#So far it's proven useless to him

[radiance1]

Ok so I've had this idea cooking up in my head for a bit with Danny's title being 'Space King' or whatever.

So y'know the Skeleton Key right? how it opens any and everywhere into the Ghost Zone and the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.

Somehow it manages to find it's way into the hands of a very unwilling Constantine. He doesn't know how exactly he got it, and he doesn't quite know why it ended up with him.

But what he does know however. Is that he wants nothing to do with it. Even if it might very well be a very powerful magical artifact that can do who knows what.

The aura of death around it, the large amount of energy within it and with how it looks.

He suspects that it belongs to a highly powerful being that he doesn't feel like dealing with.

So he tries to get rid of it in a multitude of ways, even going as far as to offer it to beings of higher power.

No matter what he does and how hard he tries.

It always finds its way back to him

So he just says fuck it and keeps the damn thing.

He basically goes everywhere with it. Cause if it won't leave him alone, he sure as well ain't letting it end up in anyone else's hands without a good fight.

Although it doesn't help with how much it reeks of death. Which he keeps the aura contained under multiple spells that Zatanna kindly(read: was annoyed) taught him.

So now he just walks around with this key that won't leave him alone and that he protects(rather unwillingly but details details).

So far the only people in the JL that knows of it is Zatanna and Boston(seeing as y'know, can't really hide the aura of death from him).

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- i might have severe baby fever, idk.

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

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Contrary to his name literally meaning “blessing”, Megumi was nothing short of a curse during bath time. He absolutely hated it, and he made it his tiny life’s mission to make sure his parents dreaded it as well.

“Megs, please just.. work with me here,” Toji pleaded, exhaustion brewing inside of him, his hands desperately trying to keep the squirming child before him tame.

You’d gone to run some errands, leaving Toji to attempt bath time alone, his previous confidence shriveling into nothingness the second he heard little Megumi cry as soon as he was dunked into the warm water. At three months old, he was the perfect child, quiet and happy, tame in every aspect of life, a fact that seemed to be nothing but false when Toji was the one left in charge of watching him.

Toji didn’t even think it possible for something to cry as much as Megumi did without passing out, but he had been proven wrong before, the wriggling thing in his hands wailing his heart out to try and convince his dad to let him out. “I’m sorry baby, but you did this to yourself,” he huffed, gently rubbing bubbles along his son’s belly, tiny feet kicking water up at him, Megumi clearly trying to escape the horror of his nightly bath.

You see, Toji would feel bad for his baby had he not been the cause for the bath in the first place, the mashed carrots he had for dinner ending up smeared down his face and front, far from the target of his mouth. Said carrots began to fade away from the whimpering Megumi’s skin, turning the water into a soapy orange. His little body fit perfectly in Toji’s large hands, the newborn scrunch still apparent as baby Megs’ legs squished up to his belly in a useless attempt at kicking his dad’s fingers away.

The crying problem only escalated as soon as Toji introduced a washcloth into the picture, Megumi squealing, kicking and writhing with so much force, he might as well have been a full-grown adult.

Without your seemingly ‘all-knowing’ insight when it came to parenting, Toji rushed to find his own solution, grabbing a used bottle of soap that appeared to be extremely bubbly, hurriedly pumping out the liquid into the water filled basin, praying that the mysterious substance would somehow, someway, quell the curse possessing his son.

It was almost as if Megumi was hypnotized or something, because the instant the familiar smell of his mother hit his nose, his screaming cries died down to nothing but little babbles, coos leaving him in a low, comfortable purr. You see, it wasn’t just any old soap bottle. No, it was the soap you had used to bathe Megs the night after you’d come home from the hospital after giving birth. Toji remembered just how surreal and peaceful the night was, so he could understand why the familiar scent would coax his baby into a severe bout of relaxation.

Finally quitting his incessant wriggling, Megumi relaxed in Toji’s hold, the smell of the soap slowly coaxing him into a sleepy state, his little nose wrinkling and eyelids occasionally fluttering open and closed. Toji hadn't noticed before but his tiny fingers began to wrap around his pinky finger, holding onto it in a playful manner.

“hm-” Toji hummed, finally understanding the cause of his son’s untamable mood. “You just miss mama, huh?” he murmured, gentle as he picked up a sponge, running the soft material along the cooing baby’s chest and belly, sudsing up his little body, taking advantage of the sleepy mood that seemed to come over the boy.

“Yeah.. me too,” was all Toji could think to say, honestly relating to the fit his son had thrown over missing his mother, Toji feeling the same way but without the screaming and crying to show it. Finishing his gentle cleansing, Toji leaned down to press a kiss on the sleepy Megumi’s forehead. "Let’s get you to bed," he whispered, hand cupping some water to rinse him with before he gently lifted him to his chest, head resting against his shoulder.

It was a breeze the rest of the night, Toji falling victim to sleep as well, he and Megumi alike in a sense that they both enjoyed resting more than anything. The couch was the chosen spot, Toji lying shirtless against the large piece of furniture, Megumi’s blue, fuzzy onesie warm against his chest as they dozed off, a large hand resting against the tiny baby’s back, holding him safe and sound even while unconscious.

He couldn’t explain it, but being alone with his child, his baby, kindled a feeling of comfortability, of pure contentment, in his chest, he knew that no matter how untamable or stubborn or confusing Megumi could be at times, he would always be his son, his little curse of a blessing.

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[megu-meow]

how I met your mother - Gojo Satoru

dad!Gojo x fem.reader

Summary: I recently found out that many TV series and other Manga/Anime are canon in JJK - How I Met Your Mother included - and I couldn't stop thinking about how Gojo would re-enact the thing after watching it. Moreover, all of you deserve some teeth-rotting fluff after that horrifying manga chapter. Enjoy!

"Why am I here?" Megumi asked with irritation laced through his voice as he sat down on the couch, beside the two white-haired rascals he calls his siblings.

"I'm gonna tell you guys the story of how I met your mother!" Gojo exclaims as he sits on his desk chair, in his office at Jujutsu Tech. The desk usually sits in the corner, right beside the window, but now is pushed in front of the couch, so that he can sit face to face with his children, the setup similar to the one in his recent favorite American TV show, How I Met Your Mother. The only difference is that the whole scenario is not played in his home office, but the one at his actual workplace, because you declared your home a Jujutsu-Free Zone.

"Gojo-Sensei..." Megumi sighs as he starts rubbing his forehead with annoyance "I was five when the two of you got together, I heard the story of how you two met a million times, this is not new to me." he explains as three sets of cerulean blue eyes gawk at him from all directions.

"Mama..." the two-year-old girl sitting on Megumi's left puffs with a ridiculously adorable pout on her face as soon as she hears the mention of her mother, and the five-year-old boy on the other side of the couch whiffs the air aggressively with the plush sword his father was forced to buy him on their way to the school.

"I know, Megumi, but this is a special occasion, you're gonna sit through the whole thing again so that you can experience this amazing fairytale with your beloved siblings." the tall sorcerer explains and his attention turns to his beloved daughter, Munchkin as he refers to her. The little girl slowly climbs into Megumi's lap, the boy instinctively helping her settle down as he embraces her lightly from behind, tickling her sides, and the room is filled with childish laughter. His son, or as he refers to him, Nugget, drops the toy from his tiny hands and huffs in annoyance, suddenly jealous of his sister's ability to gain the undivided attention of his favorite person, his older brother. "Now, all of you pay attention."

It was his first day at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Given his extravagant upbringing, Gojo Satoru was a self-centered douchebag with a horrible attitude. He first met Geto Suguru, the only friend he ever claimed he had, the dark-haired sorcerer with a warm smile and polite demeanor, the polar opposite of him. The two formed an unbearable duo and as soon as you walked into the classroom with the three first-year students, four months after the school year began, you knew you had to keep yourself as far away from the boys as possible. You became good friends with Shoko though, the two of you had plenty of common interests and your personalities were similar as well.

You tried avoiding Gojo at all times, you thought he was irritating based on his behavior in class and his rude comments behind your back, ones he whispered to Geto, making your dark-haired classmate laugh obnoxiously. However, Your efforts to stay as far away from him were proven to be useless when Yaga paired the two of you for a mission.

"So, why is a clan princess like you avoiding the strongest sorcerer of her time? Didn't your family tell you about the power and influence my family holds over the jujutsu society?" he asks you cockily and you chuckle dismissively at his words.

"I'm not a clan princess, Gojo! On the contrary... I come from a family of non-sorcerers and I was an outcast my whole life because I kept seeing things that others couldn't." you said as you kept hitting the curse with sharp daggers that you wielded in the air with your cursed technique "And I don't care about your power or your privilege, because I'm only here to help others." you make your point even clearer as you throw your last dagger with extra force, exorcising the curse without breaking a sweat.

"And that was the moment..." Gojo begins to explain to his overly bored children, but Megumi interrupts him.

"... when you realized you wanted to pursue the only girl that ever gave you attitude, a.k.a. Y/n. We know, it's getting boring."

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Megumi! This is an amazing story about the two people that raised you. Show some respect!" Satoru exclaims with an offended expression and Munchkin hides her face in her tiny hands, thinking that she is the one who is being scolded, trying to hide from her father's light-hearted attempt at discipline.

"Papa, can we have Splendid Sushi?" the white-haired boy asks, boredom evident from his facial expression.

"Nugget, you just ate before we came here." Satoru pouts, clearly disappointed in his kids.

"I know, I'm still hungry."

"I'm gonna wrap this story up quickly and we can go eat after." he gives in, a sad expression on his face.

After that moment you shared on your mission, Gojo changed. He was still annoying and arrogant, but he tried acting like a decent human being around you. In one instance Suguru explained that the remarks they exchanged with each other were making fun of Yaga-Sensei, not you. He felt the need to clarify that after Satoru complained to him about how much you seemed to hate his guts.

These things shed a different light on Gojo, you noticed how he was very attentive when it came to the small details you shared about yourself when the four of you first years were hanging out. He also ensured that you got home safe whenever you went out as a group and he even gave you his jacket so that you wouldn't catch a cold.

He also started complimenting you, your looks, your advancement with your technique, and he thoroughly enjoyed how you blushed every time he called you sweetheart or any other nickname he came up with on the spot. However, you were stubborn, even more challenging than some curses he fought.

"I'm gonna wife you up one day, sweet girl! Even if it's the last thing I do." he whispers into your ear as your head is resting on his shoulder while you're being driven home by an auxiliary assistant from a challenging mission. He thought you were sleeping, but you could hear his muffled words and your lips curled into a slight smile. Because Satoru was good, kind-hearted, and loving in his dorky, obnoxious way.

"Papa, where is Mama?" Munchkin asks with tears in her eyes, clearly distressed from the long period of time she had to endure without her Mama. And the only thing Satoru can do is get up from his chair, walk towards his little baby and embrace her with his strong and bulky arms, trying to comfort her, because he knows exactly how terrible it feels being away from you. He coos at her lovingly, kissing her chubby cheeks and he sits back down to continue with his story. He also puts out his hand, using blue to fetch a pink fluffy blankie he keeps in his office. Megumi rolls his eyes at this, he finds it annoying how Gojo uses his techniques so unnecessarily.

A month after Satoru's not-so-secret confession, at Nanami Kento's birthday party, it happens. Your first kiss. For the most part, the party goes terribly for both of you. He is standing in a corner, drinking seltzers orange soda furiously as he observes how a third-year is trying to hit on you with cringey pick up lines that make Gojo want to throw up. You seem uncomfortable with his advances, but Satoru doesn't intervene, because he has no right to. You two are not dating, you are just very close friends. Nothing less, certainly nothing more. However, as that idiot steps closer to you and you try to bring an end to his flirting, Satoru observes the deep discomfort in your eyes and the twirling of your hands, trying to wield some glass shards with your technique from the broken bottle spilled onto the floor. He decides to intervene, and with a single clap of his hands, he's beside you, his fingers slip into yours, stopping you from using your technique, knowing that using it without permission on school grounds could get you in trouble. The third-year leaves instantly once Gojo arrives and there you stand in front of the white-haired sorcerer with thankful eyes.

"Thank you, Satoru!" you say and from the many shots of sake cups of tea you had, you gain a newfound courage within you to get on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. Or so you think, because in the last moment, he turns his head and your lips land on his. It's a short kiss, basically a peck, but the sobering reality of the consequences of your actions hits you like a train.

"I'm sorry, that was a mistake..." you mutter and you run out of the party, leaving him there disappointed.

After that, you don't talk to each other for two weeks. Gojo tries in the beginning, but you stop all of his attempts because you are too ashamed of your actions. After a while he becomes petty himself, claiming that it's for the better and saying the two of you wouldn't have lasted in the first place. He does it in the usual Gojo fashion, making sure that you hear every word leaving his mouth. He wants you to hurt just as much as he is, but as soon as he spots the puffy, red circles under your eyes, he regrets ever being mean towards you.

"Dada, why you make Mama cry?" the toddler in his lap looks at him curiously, her lips in a pout, clearly disappointed with her father.

"Hey! That's not true, Mama made me cry first, Munchkin."

"You never cried in your life, Gojo." Megumi intervenes and if Satoru could kill with his Six Eyes, he would annihilate the Fushiguro kid right now.

"Is the story over, Papa? You said we'd go to Splendid Sushi after." Nugget whines once again and Satoru knows he has to finish up soon, otherwise, his son is going to throw a tantrum.

Satoru rushes into the medical ward upon hearing the news. You went out on a mission alone and you were brought back by Yaga himself, on a stretcher. He doesn't know any more details than that, but he's frantic. As soon as he spots you on one of the disgustingly hard hospital beds, being treated by Shoko with blood running down your beautiful face, Satoru is standing beside you, holding your hand. You are unconscious, but it doesn't matter, his six eyes tell him that your cursed energy is stable, you have been knocked out, that's all.

"Step aside for a second, loverboy, I have to heal the cut on her arm." Shoko says with a smirk and Gojo steps away hesitantly, watching carefully as your scars slowly disappear. The healer leaves the room as soon as she finishes and Satoru is quick to return to your side, his fingers laced with yours once again.

"Gojo?"

"Am I not Satoru anymore, sweet thing?" he asks disappointedly and your mouth curls up slightly. You could have died, but he's still hung up on the way you addressed him. You look down at your hands, not able to respond. You don't quite know what you two are anymore. "I was really scared, you know? I cannot lose my favorite girl this soon, otherwise I would go insane."

"It's not a big deal, Satoru..."

"But it is...Don't you get it?! I love you." he confesses, he seems furious, but his eyes glisten with the utmost adoration "It's you, it's always been you. The one who keeps me grounded, the one that makes it worthy to be the strongest, because all this power is meant to protect you, sweetheart. So please don't ever go two weeks and four days without talking to me and for the love of god, please don't go out there on reckless missions without me because I don't want to hear about you coming back on a stretcher ever again." he brings your hands up to his lips, kissing them gently and you swear you can see tears swelling in his precious eyes.

"I love you too, Satoru." you reply, your voice barely a whisper. He's shocked, for a second, the next he's leaning closer asking for permission to kiss you properly. You grant it to him and he unites your lips in a long-awaited kiss, one that seals the fate of the rest of your lives, without even knowing it.

"That day, in the hospital ward of Jujutsu Tech, I promised my classmate, the girl I fell deeply in love with, that I would protect her no matter what. That I would love and cherish her with all of my might till the end of my life. I promised her that one day I would marry her, when I went back home with you, Megumi, and told her I was planning on raising you at eighteen, while she simply agreed to help me all the way, no questions asked. Three years later I vowed to her that I would be beside her in sickness and in health. When you rascals were born, I promised I would take care of her and you guys with all the energy I have. Deep down I knew from the moment she stepped into that classroom when I was fifteen that she would be the one for me. And that kids, is how I met your mother." he finishes with a fond smile on his face, but it quickly falters as he notices that Nugget is once again preoccupied with whacking the air with the toy from earlier, Megumi is on his phone and Munchkin is sleeping soundly in his embrace.

Suddenly, he hears your footsteps from down the hall and your sing-song voice coming through the door.

"Where's my beloved family at?" you ask playfully, opening the door to his office, and peeking in. Upon spotting the sleeping toddler in his arms you keep quiet, approaching the two of them and you take your daughter into your embrace. You look around the room, observing the changes, the very bored teenager and your rascal of a son sitting on the couch and you quickly connect the pieces of the puzzle.

"You did it, didn’t you, Satoru?"

"What, sweetheart?" he asks faking innocence.

"The How I Met Your Mother Thing? The idea you were talking to me about the other night."

"Maybe."

"Oh, my poor babies, you had to sit through that cliche story. How long did your dad keep you bored, Megumi?" you ask, your tone teasing.

"Actually it wasn't that long after Nugget started whining." the raven-haired boy explained, looking fondly at his only mother figure.

"I'm so sorry, guys, let's go to Splendid Suchi, okay? That would make you all feel better." you add, leaving a loving kiss on all the kids' heads. Your son lifts his head with incredible speed upon hearing you mention his favourite restaurant, up until now he didn't even notice your presence, too preoccupied with his new toy. Suddenly everyone is up on their feet, ready to have a scrumptious meal.

You and Satoru stay behind a bit as the two boys run out of the school and Megumi summons his demon dogs so that the two of them can play with the fluffy shikigami.

"When are you gonna tell ME that fairytale of yours, angel boy? I'm really curious how you scored a clan princess like me." you ask your husband jokingly and he chuckles, raising his sunglasses up his nose. His hands quickly snake around your waist, pulling you into a loving kiss. Your daughter finally awakens lifting her head from your shoulder, interrupting the beautiful moment between the two of you.

"Mama!" she exclaims, embracing you tightly, her tired eyes fluttering as you bring her closer to your chest.

"Not only did you steal your Mama from me you get her titties as well?! This world is truly cruel."

[mistiell]

When you're lost in the Darkness

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion suspects that you're afraid of the dark. What he doesn't know, is that not only will he soon be proven right, but he severely underestimated just how severe your fear is.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, nyctophobia, brief description of panic attack, possibly ooc Astarion, literally one use of y/n

A/N: Hey hi hello, I am back from the void for now. I would like to make a disclamier: I have not yet played BG3!! So, if anyone is out of character, I apologize!

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Astarion has a theory.

A small and rather unimportant one, but a theory nonetheless.

It started when he noticed the way you set up your bed roll when the group makes camp for the night. You’re always as close to the fire as you can be without lighting yourself aflame, and when it dims to a certain point, he’s watched you rouse out of a dead sleep to stoke the coals and add more fuel. At first, he thought perhaps you were just prone to chills – he knows some people run cold when they sleep – but after lingering after one of your shared nights together, he came to realise that you’re actually more like a mostly-human furnace.

Then he noticed the way you linger around any sort of light source like a moth to a flame after the sun has set, and the way you fidget and glance over you shoulder every few minutes on the off chance your back is to the darkness.

He finds it strange. Granted, he thinks you’re strange for a variety of other reasons, but this pattern of behaviour is particularly puzzling to him. Which has lead him to his theory;

“You’re afraid of the dark.” He jests after watching you glance into the woods for the umpteenth time, aiming for teasing and realising he’s missed when your face falls into something akin to shame and discomfort.

You try to cover it with a scoff, rolling your eyes in a way he knows is meant to feign indifference, “I have far worse things to fear than the dark.” You spit those last two words, as if they taste bitter on your tongue. Firelight dances in your eyes as you keep your gaze trained firmly on him, even despite how much you look like you want too search for whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself is out there, intent on disproving him.

“True,” He smirks with a practiced ease, suddenly – strangely – desperate to ease the tension he’s just created, “But should you ever find yourself too afraid to sleep alone,” He leans in just a smidgen closer, grinning coquettishly, “My arms are always open.”

You snort, the tension in your shoulders ebbing just so as you chuckle, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“By all means, keep me in your thoughts as long as you wish, darling.” He hums, smile just a little softer than he intends when you genuinely laugh at that, the sound sweet and airy as it bubbles up from your throat.

“And with that, I’m off to bed.” He nearly mistakes incredulousness for fondness, but catches himself as you stand. Turning back for just a moment, you give him a smile so soft, it makes is gut twist with a feeling he’s a little unsure of, “Goodnight, Astarion.”

If he’d fed more recently, he’s sure his cheeks would be flushed. He blinks, clears his throat, “Sleep well, my sweet.”

Only days later, his theory is proven correct when you stumble upon some sort of abandoned cottage – House? Astarion’s not entirely sure – and, upon Gale’s insistence that it could be useful, decide to search it for wares.

“You do know there’s likely nothing of use in here, don’t you?” Shadowheart sighs impassively as she thumbs through a tattered book, slotting it back into place where she found it once she’s deemed it useless.

Gale huffs and rolls his eyes, “Well, we won’t know until we look, will we?”

“We won’t be finding much of anything if you two don’t quit your squabbling.” You quip before turning your attention back to the chest you were searching. You just barely lean into Astarion’s space, grinning impishly. He leans in just a little closer – only to hear you better, of course – as you whisper, “They’re like children, I tell you.”

Something shatters. You both turn just as Shadowheart fixes Gale with a stern look, “Hells, Gale, pay attention to where you’re going!”

“Wh- It’s not my fault!” Astarion raises a brow at their bickering, tutting amusedly, “Children, indeed.”

Huffing a laugh, your attention slides to a door on the far side of the room and move to investigate. After trying the handle and finding it jammed, it takes a good shove to get it open. The only thing that illuminates the small pantry is the light filtering in from the door you’ve just opened.

You seem content to simply skim over the contents of the room from where you’re standing until you spot something of interest, eyes lighting up with a little gasp.

Astarion takes your place in the doorway as you rush into the room after propping the door open with a nearby pail, curious, “What have you found?”

Snatching a little tin box off a shelf, you open it and beam, “Oh, I haven’t had this in ages!”

“What?” He asks again, a little impatient.

You hold it out to him, and when he comes closer to look over the lip of the tin, he finds a fair amount of shredded, aubergine coloured leaves inside.

He looks back to you, confused, “Tea?” “Tea.” You grin, holding it up to your nose and closing your eyes to revel in the fruity scent, “I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s delicious.”

With how delighted you are over finding it, he doesn’t doubt it.

“Well, at least we can tell the others our searching wasn’t in vain.” He turns, “Settle that dispute between Gale and Shadowhear-.” The toe of his boot bumps the pail, sending it rolling as the door swings shut and swathes the room in darkness.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but eventually, the door comes back into view, only now the faded sage green paint is a dull grey.

Just as he moves for the door, he’s startled by the clattering of metal and a loud bump. He whips around to ask what in the hells just happened, but the words die in his throat when he finds you pressed flat against the shelves on the far wall – which really isn’t that far considering there’s only about six feet between the two of you. He can hear your heart racing from where he’s standing, your breaths quick and shallow.

That theory he had just got a lot more important.

He calls your name and you flinch, gaze flitting in his general direction but never settling on him. You look well and truly petrified. “Darling, are you alright?”

It’s a terrible question considering you are very visibly not alright, but he can’t seem to come up with anything else fast enough.

“I can’t–.” Your voice cracks and you swallow, looking dreadfully close to tears as you squeeze your eyes shut and cover your face with your hands, “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”

“Hang on,” After trying the handle, he finds the door is jammed no matter how hard he yanks. He considers calling for Karlach or Wyll, but thinks better of it, not wanting to frighten you further. They’ll notice the two of you are missing and come looking eventually.

“Astarion.” His name from your lips pulls him from his thoughts. He usually loves hearing you say his name, even when your cross with him. But when it comes out like a pitiful mix between whisper and whimper, he finds his heart twists uncomfortably in his chest.

He turns back to you and stalls. Unsure, helpless. He wants desperately to comfort you, but he has no idea how. He goes over the many different ways he could try, and the many different ways you could react, before finally, “Tell me what you need.”

After a moment of hesitation, you hold out a trembling hand and he steps forward to take it without a second thought. You tense when his skin first meets yours, palms wet with tears as your breath hitches. You tug him closer to wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline, shaking terribly as you bury your face into his neck. He secures you to him with an arm around your back and a hand cupped over the nape of your neck. He can feel your heartbeat stuttering under his fingertips when they settle over your pulse.

You’re still gasping.

“You need to breathe, lovely.” He says it gently, voice void of his usual coquettish flare. The nickname is softer than what he’s used with you so far, and it feels and sounds more earnest than it should. He tries not to dwell on it as he soothes his palm up and down the length of your spine, “Try to mimic me. I’ll guide you, alright?” You nod, and when starts coaching you through each inhale and exhale, you do your best to follow.

It takes several breaths, but eventually, they grow deeper and stop catching in your chest. Your heart slows. Not by a lot, but enough that Astarion can stop worrying that you’ll work yourself into a panic induced fainting spell.

He guides you through a few more before asking, “Better?”

You nod. With your throat dried out from crying, your voice is rather croak-y when you reply, “A little.”

“You sound like a frog.” It startles a laugh from you, the sound letting Astarion breathe a little easier.

“I do!” You sniffle, still laughing. It makes him laugh too.

“What the hells is so funny in there?” Lae’zel shouts from the other side with all her usual charm.

“Frogs!” Astarion shouts back, and you giggle a little more.

There’s a few loud bangs as one of your friends attempts to open the door. He can feel you flinch with each one until finally, it bursts open, blessed light washing over the two of you despite Karlach towering in the doorway. Your body sags with relief, and a little, involuntary sound escapes you as a new wave of tears threatens to spill, this time for an entirely different reason.

“What happened in here?” Gale asks, looking wildly confused as you slip out of Astarion’s arms and wipe at your cheeks hastily. “Oh, erm,” You clear your throat awkwardly, gaze bouncing between the items the fell when you backed into the shelf before settling on the tea leaves. You look genuinely disappointed as you gesture vaguely towards the small pile on the floor, “I found a tea I really like and got upset when I dropped it.”

“Ah. I see.” Gale nods, still obviously perplexed. If any of them find the explanation odd, they don’t say anything.

Shadowheart leans around Karlach, “We should get a move on. There are only so many hours before sundown.”

“Right. Yes, that’s a good idea.” You nod, clearly thankful for an excuse to get the hell out of there as you squeeze past them and lead them outside.

Much to Astarion’s chagrin, Karlach turns when she notices he’s hung back, “Oi, Astarion. What are you doing?”

He glances between her and the pantry before huffing, “Just... Tell them to wait a moment.”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously but agrees, leaving him to tell you and the others. He makes his way back into the pantry for a moment before jogging outside to join you.

It’s a good few hours until you make camp, and another few before he finally plucks up the courage to approach you near your tent.

You notice him striding over and smile at the sight of him, “Astarion! To what to I owe the pleasure?”

“I come bearing gifts.” He announces dramatically, hoping his puckish grin will be enough to mask how incredibly fucking nervous he truly is.

“For me?” You ask, cocking your head slightly to one side.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, would I?”

“Well obviously, I just meant–,” You huff and shake your head, chuckling incredulously, “Never mind. What have you got for me?”

He holds out the tin and watches surprise and confusion flash over your face in quick succession before something unbearably soft settles over your features.

Taking it from him, you’re quick to pop the lid off. You gasp when you lay eyes on the contents, eyes wide when you look back at him with such wonder, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, “How did you–?”

“I salvaged what I could off the top of the pile. I– erm,” He clears his throat, “I thought it would be wasteful to leave perfectly good tea behind when at least one of us could enjoy what’s left of it. Irresponsible, even.”

You huff a laugh. There’s no mistaking the fondness this time.

“You’re absolutely right. That would be irresponsible of us.” Your smile shifts into something heart achingly earnest as you step closer and lean up to peck his cheek, “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.” He’s aiming for coquettish but it comes out too sincere to be convincing. That feeling twists at his chest again and it’s only now that he realises what it is.

He actually, genuinely cares for you.

Rattled, he feigns a yawn and smirks, “Well, as much as I adore your company, I really must be off to bed. Beauty sleep, and all that.”

“Right!” You seem to startle yourself with your own volume and clear your throat, chuckling awkwardly, “Right, of course. Goodnight, Astarion.”

He takes a mere second to mull it over before he throws caution to the wind and cradles the side of your neck in his palm, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw as he presses his lips to the apple of your opposite cheek. Before he takes time to actually think over his new found feelings and potentially freak himself out, he’s going to let himself indulge in you just a little while longer.

Pulling back, he brushes the back of his knuckles over the skin he just kissed, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

He can hear your heart thump, thump, thumping as he walks towards his own tent. The feelings he has for you are a new and rather inconvenient development. But if later he finds that he doesn’t particularly mind?

No one has to know just yet.

[pinkaditty]

Perv!Asmodeus Thoughts (Obey Me: SWD)

hihiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii this was totally 100% self indulgent it's just me thinking about Asmodeus if he was just a little more unhinged

summary: you're so innocent. he's quite the opposite.

a/n: can't really 100% say that this was inspired by anything ive just been thinking about Asmodeus and wanted to give him a little appreciation. admittedly perverted characters just... do it for me. my guilty pleasure lol <3 anyways anyways!!! answering more asks by the weekend or tmrw it depends on how much free time I have!!!! and am almost done with pervert pt 3!!!!! woo!!

cw: perverted behavior, creepy behavior, no penetration/sex but sexual acts mentioned, masturbation, non-con (no r*pe or anything just really weird scenarios in which one party is oblivious), cum eating, and other weird things that i don't really know how to tag, not proofread.

MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL!!!! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY!

You're so innocent. And god, it drives him crazy. Your eyes make the most perfect alluring expressions, your lips curve into the most perfect smiles, and your body shaped so wonderfully… he can't help it if he feels a little wanting.

At first, he attempts to stifle it… keep it under wraps as much as he can. Sure, his eyes wander, but as soon as he starts imagining what you may look like under those clothes, he quickly tears his eyes away and censors his thoughts as much as he possibly can. Unusual for the Avatar of Lust, but he knows once he starts, he will not stop.

Saliva collects in his mouth so much he has to gulp it down as he watches you eat, teeth tearing and tongue licking and lips slurping. It makes him wonder, would you treat his flesh the same? Biting, licking, and slurping, leaving marks in your wake, swallowing down whatever juices spring forth from him before he is wrung dry? He often finds himself palming himself at the dinner table, completely enamored by your idle consumption of food, leaving his plate to grow cold from neglect. Even watching you walk is pure torture. He watches as the fabric hugs and rubs against your thighs, your ass, your torso, and your waist especially… He imagines how easy it would be to tear it apart, to simply lose control and throw the useless fabrics to the side, caring much more about the skin underneath. Sitting behind you in class proves to be a challenge, much more so when you're wearing that perfume he recommended. He bites his thumbnail until it bleeds, gripping his uniform pants, trying his hardest to resist the alluring scent of your perfume. The perfume is fine on its own, but mixed with your natural scent, it tears him apart.

As far as you are concerned, Asmodeus is a close friend, one you can come to in any scenario. He's proven himself worthy of your trust in your eyes, so you find it fit to spend time with him. Little do you know that while you suspect Mammon is going through your trash to sell things, it's actually Asmodeus, stealing this morning’s finished coffee to lick off the remnants of your saliva on the rim of the cup. While you suspect Belphegor of stealing your pillows, it's actually Asmodeus, humping into them at night, creaming to the thought of you sleeping on the same pillows he's used for personal pleasures. While you suspect Satan of nicking away your magazines, it's actually Asmodeus, taking note of which pages you licked your fingers to turn, carefully licking those edges. While you suspect Beelzebub of stealing some of your open snacks, it's actually Asmodeus, jerking off pointed directly at them, leaving his essence there for you to enjoy but be oblivious to. While you suspect Lucifer of taking your pens on occasion, it's actually Asmodeus, writing on his body how much he craves you, and then using that pen to pleasure himself, leaving his scent all over it. While you suspect Leviathan of stealing your underwear, it's actually Asmodeus, burying his face in them at night, wearing them, jerking off inside of them, all until he sees fit to return them to the wash. He just can't stop. He especially loves it when you visit his room with your guard down, having no idea how much of him you've consumed, touched, and felt just from doing your daily activities.

He's on cloud nine with how deeply you trust him, enough to feed you various snacks during your weekly spa session. He watches as you lick the icing off a pastry, oblivious to how most of it is his cum, simply enjoying the sweet-salty contrast. He is impressed with how much you'll let his hands wander as he gets a general feel of your body while you're in a robe. He's choosing the cutest outfit he can think of, but first, he needs to get a feel for your body to know what looks good on you, which is a total lie. He's letting his fingers drift awful close to your chest, dragging his fingers as they gently graze over your waistband, and pausing for an unusually long time when his fingers reach your ass. He's hard as a rock, but who can tell?

When you leave, having used his body products - to the point where you smell like him - and having consumed various amounts of his bodily fluids, he dreams of you laying on a pillow that he used to masturbate, eating snacks that he's creamed all over, using pens to doodle that are covered in his essence, reading magazines that he's licked every corner of, and having no idea about it at all.

You're just so innocent. And god, it drives him crazy.

a/n: this is short but regardless I enjoyed writing it. if I have any more insane thoughts about perverted characters ill post more.

reminder that i love likes, comments, reblogs, and asks!! tell me how much you liked it or ask for more! I'd love to hear your thoughts! <3

[drewharrisonwriter]

Donor Part 2

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N, Warnings: 18+, follow up to Donor. English is not my first language. There's drinking, breakups, failed IUIs and more. Just an overall adult-themed content. But no smut...YET! (BWAHAHA) As usual, not beta'ed, and plot points are perhaps shaky and a bit far from reality, but hey! It's called fiction for a reason. LOL Excuse my deluluness, you're welcome to join.

I’m AO3, too as MoonDjarin ^_^

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You said, a tear escaped from the corner of your eye, slipping down your cheeks which you immediately wiped with the back of your hand.

Henry pulled you in on a side hug, letting out a slow sigh, closing his eyes as he planted a kiss on your temple.

Five negative pregnancy tests sit on your bathroom counter. 

Five more to add to the stash of tests that you somehow decided you wanted to keep in a box under the counter. Just in case…of what? You're not even sure yourself.

This was your third try over the past year. Three rounds of IUI and a box full to the brim of negative pregnancy tests lay heavy on your heart and mind.

For all the things you've accomplished all your life, this is becoming the most challenging. You already feel like a failure.

"There's always a next time, darling." Henry comforted you, gently rubbing the small of your back. You just sobbed, soaking his shirt with your tears.

"I don't know. I'm so sorry for dragging you into this, Hank." He hushed you gently and led you out to your living room.

You both settled on the couch, where you snuggled to Henry, feet tucked under you, as you continued to sob and he just held you against his broad chest.

"I just don't get it, why is it so hard? I'm literally biologically made for this."

"Well, just because it didn't happen now doesn't mean it won't. It's only been three tries." He cooed.

"Three tries over the span of 8 months, Hank. I took a really long break, I gave up touring for this. You…took time for this, too."

“You do realize that you can’t go on tour when you’re pregnant, right?” He replied and you just let out a loud sigh. 

“But I’m not. I could be touring instead, you could be out on a date with someone you like.” He snorted. 

“Well, first of all. I love you, you know that. And darling, you can’t be in two places at once. These things take time. Why so hard on yourself?”

You honestly feel like your brain is so fried and your body so tired, and bloated. 

You feel like shit. 

The tests may tell you there’s no baby in there, but boy do you look pregnant from the bloatedness, thanks to the fertility medications that have proven themselves useless so far and it’s becoming a tabloid talk recently. 

You can’t read another pregnancy speculation about yourself.

Not when you know it’s not happening at all. Plus, there’s a huge chance of dragging Henry’s name into it, which you’re doing your best to prevent from happening. Not going out in public with him where you know you could be snapped. You haven’t told anyone about your little secret, not even his family. 

“I’m taking a break from this then.” You said softly, after a long pause. Henry looked at you, surprised to hear the words come out of you. He just nodded in response, and pulled you in closer. 

—-

Henry pulled up your driveway and turned down the radio, opening the passenger side of the door to let you in. You pulled the door open and got in, giving Henry light air kisses on each cheek. 

“Look at you!” You leaned back to take him in, and whistled. He cocked his head in laughter with a hand across his chest, like it was about to burst. 

It’s been six months since the last time you saw each other; you stopped trying and went back to touring for a bit, and he went on to start filming a movie and doing press junkets here and there. 

It had been a busy couple of months and it made Henry think of the what ifs. Glad that you both don’t have to think of a child in the middle of all the things going on in your lives recently, but sad that you don’t get to hold your dream in your arms. 

You both have talked about it, co-parenting. You were surprisingly alright with it, “Better have both parents if you can, right?” You had said, but were clear that you won’t be asking him for anything, still offering to not have him on the birth certificate or forcing a set schedule on him to have the child over, which honestly broke his heart. 

You’re always giving him an out, always thinking of him, his career, his family. 

He wanted to give the child his last name, he wanted to take care of them on his times off or even bring them to set on his days with them, but he didn’t tell you that. In fact, there are so many things that Henry held back as he didn’t want to take this away from you, he knows how important this is to you. 

He’d convinced himself that he’d be content with whatever you give him. He just wants you to have your dream and be happy. He can be happy with that, too. 

“So, how’s life on the road?” He asked as you snapped your seatbelt on and he began to drive. 

“Good, the usual.” You replied casually. “And how are you, Superman? A little birdie told me you’re seeing someone.” You wiggled your eyebrows playfully at him, and he just side-eyed you with a cocked brow. 

“Let me guess, Charlie told you?” He breathed. You shook your head, opening your purse to take out a packet of Reese’s pieces. 

“No, your mom, actually.” You replied, shoving marbled chocolates into your mouth. Remembering the phone call you had with Marianne a few weeks ago, and your brain immediately goes into overdrive. Wondering if Henry would still want to donate sperm or if this budding relationship of his had changed his mind. You remember feeling hurt that you won’t be co-parenting with him… But as always, you understood. He has his life, you have yours. He’s already given you so much all those months ago when you tried. 

Your brain went into a hundred different scenarios all at once during that phone call, you wondered how you ever got through it. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed when he heard you ripping the packet and started chewing. “No eating in the car!” 

“Jesus, so strict! It’s just Reese’s pieces, it’s not gonna stink up the damned car. Calm down! Here, have some...” You held your hand out next to his mouth and he reluctantly ate the chocolates. 

“Damn, that’s good.” He muttered. 

“So, who’s the girl?” You pressed on, still chewing, and he just chuckled, shaking his head. 

“No one.” He said, holding his palm out and you poured more Reese’s in them. “It didn’t work out.” He added before shoving the chocolate into his mouth. 

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You replied dryly. 

“Enough about me.” He said, mouth still full with chocolates. “Excited for tonight?” 

“Oh absolutely. Haven’t seen you and the gang in a long time.” He chuckled at the way you referred to his brothers and some of your group of friends’ as ‘the gang’. 

—

It was Charlie’s birthday and drinks were overflowing, the music was loud, reverberating throughout the exclusive club one of your common friends owns. You were lost on the dance floor, a drink in hand swaying–hoping your legs won’t give out from both exhaustion, fun and alcohol all mixed together like the cocktail in your hand. 

Your friend, Emilia, stood on her toes lightly to whisper something in your ear. You could not hear exactly what she was saying, but she was gesturing with her thumb to the guy behind her holding her other hand, with a huge smile plastered on his face. You just nodded and they left. 

You saw Charlie and Simon going back to the dancefloor with a bottle of champagne on each hand, showering people with the bubbly treat. You laughed as both men refilled the now empty glass in your hand until it overflowed and your shoes were soaking wet. 

Charlie chugged down a bottle and raised it with a loud “Whoo!” when he finished it in one go. You laughed harder and downed your own drink in one go, too. Simon refills it soon as you’re done. 

You’re definitely drunk now. 

The two men went deeper into the dance floor and shared the bubbly drinks with more of the guests dancing. Left alone now with a half-empty glass, you started or more like swayed your way back to the bar, almost stumbling over a bar stool when you suddenly felt a hand slip on your waist, pulling you up to your seat, you turned halfway to see who it was and surprised to see Henry beaming down on you, hand still splayed across your stomach. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He whispered next to your ear, lightly nuzzling his nose at your earlobe. You felt a shiver run down your spine. 

He seemed to be drunk, too. You thought. Except he wasn’t; Henry tried his best to stick to just a pint, knowing that he’d have to drive later that night. But there was something about you, about the situation, about the dress you’re wearing that made him a little bolder than usual. He took his hands off you, afraid of ruining the moment. 

You smiled and nodded in reply, “Yeah. I’m not drinking anymore. I’m too old for this.” You laughed as he settled in the seat next to you. You flagged the bartender and ordered yourself a bottle of water.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You said after downing half of the bottle. “I’m too old for this.” You repeated.

“Would rather stay home with the kids, honey?” He joked and you laughed. 

“Yeah, better call the sitter cause I’m going home now to tuck them in myself.” You joked back with a wide smile as you got off your seat. He threw his head back laughing. 

“No, seriously, Hank. I’m going home.” You told him and he nodded. 

“Let me take you home.” You shook your head ‘no’. 

“It’s fine, Hank. I’m calling an Uber.” 

“There are paps outside, I’m driving you myself.” You snickered at his argument. 

“What difference would it make? Paps seeing us together would only make it worse.” He knew you were right, but he can’t let you go home alone like this. 

But Henry was persistent. He took your hand and led you to a back exit that leads straight to the parking lot, not long after you were seated at the passenger seat of his car as you watched London go by in blur through the window. 

“You okay?” He asked, you’ve be been quiet for far too long.

“Mmhmm…” 

“What’s going on in there?” He asked, tapping a finger on your temple and you snickered, shaking your head. 

“Nothing…I think I’m just tired.” Lie. You wanted to ask him if he’s dating again after the last one Marianne told you about. You wanted to ask him if he’d still want to donate, and co-parent, and draw dreams together in the air like you did a few months ago. But you’ve thought of this over and over the past few weeks, it wouldn’t be right anymore. 

You wondered why you never thought of possible scenarios before you even started with your IUI’s.

Henry let out a slow breath, he knew exactly what’s in your head. He knew that you weren’t over the disappointment and the heartbreak from the last time your IUI failed. He knows so well, and this is exactly what he was waiting for, an opportunity to open it up.

“When’s your next time off?” He asked and you looked up at him slightly surprised.

“I have one last string of shows in London next weekend and after that I’m a free man.” You replied. “Why? Do I need to babysit Kal again?” You joked. 

He laughed, shaking his head, his curls bouncing on the side of his head. His dimples were so deep and the light that shone through the windshield from the car in front of you casted a beautiful shadow against his sharp features. 

Wow, you are definitely drunk. 

“What are you looking at?” He asked when he felt your eyes on him; He cocked an eyebrow at your direction, but you only shook your head in response. Willing yourself to stop ogling him.

Nearly 20 years of friendship, you asked yourself, why are you only realizing exactly just how handsome he is? 

You always knew he was good looking, great physique, killer smile, incredible sense of humor. But you’ve never seen him in this light nor have you ever felt a warmth pooling in your center at the mere sight of him.

What was in the drinks at Charlie’s party?

He looked at you and let out another laugh and muttered, “Jesus.” Your brows are furrowed, lips slightly parted and you look at him not with confusion, no. It’s as if you’re coming to a sudden realization about something, if only he knows what. 

He called out your name, looking at you quickly and turning his eyes back on the road, his grip on the wheels tightened a bit. Knuckles almost turning white. 

“Hmm?” You sounded like you were being taken out of a daze. He chuckled and shook his head. “You are so drunk, are you?” 

“I guess.” You murmured, blinking a few times before looking down at your hands, playing with the hem of your skirt. 

“May I ask you something?” 

“Go on.” 

“Would you…” He started but he paused. “Would you want to try again?” 

That startled you. After the last time you tried and failed, and then him dating again, you didn’t think he’d still want to donate. And if you’re being a hundred percent honest with yourself, you wouldn’t want to ask him anymore, not wanting to complicate his future relationships by being tied to you with a child. Despite the fact that you think he’s the perfect donor, in all aspects, including co-parenting. 

“I don’t know, Hank. I mean, of course I wanted to try again but…” You swallowed, man, this is hard but it’s for the best, you thought. “But you don’t have to donate anymore.” 

Read Part 3

Tag list:

@jyessaminereads @summersong69 @itsrubberbisquit

[inlovewithfictionalmen7]

I'm Sorry Mommy

this is my first attempt at writing smut so im sorry if its bad haha

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader 

summery: a day out golfing dosent end well when y/n over hears something the boys are talking about.

warnings: oral,sub!Rafe, Rafe crying, kinda mean reader, fem!reader, dom!reader.

word count: 1,807

————————————-<3————————————

y/n and rafe were at the country club golfing with topper and kelce. y/n isn't supper into golfing but she loves spending time with rafe so she's down for anything even if that meant standing in the hot sun while her boyfriend played his sport with his friends so be it.  

“Hey babe can you go get us some more drinks please?” Rafe asks her nicely while lining up for his swing. “Yeah of course.”she says, smiling at him and walking away. Before she can get to far though she hears topper and kelce laughing so she stops for a sec to hear what they say 

“Man rafe she's like your little bitch huh” kelce says slapping Rafes back then topper jumps in “oh bro i bet she's just worships you in bed and lets you use her” y/n narrows her eyes hoping rafe would change the topic because they both know whos in charge behind closed doors, but her hopes are proven useless as she hears “oh yeah man she's like the biggest slut in bed. I love it” leave her boyfriend's mouth. The boys let out some whoops. 

y/n finally goes up and gets their drinks, heading back to the boys, smiling as she hands topper and kelce's theirs, but when she turned her back to face rafe her smile dropped bringing his drink to her lips she takes a sip looking him straight in the eyes before spitting in his cup, smiling and handing it to him. The look on his face tell her, he knows that she heard him and that he was fucked.

The drive home was silent for the most part. Rafe looked over at y/n every once and awhile while she was looking out the window. He knew he was in trouble but he didnt know how he was gonna be punished and that scared him.

After Rafe pulled into his driveway and turned off the truck they sat there in silence for a couple minutes before he tried to speak “baby-” but he's cut off by y/n  “go upstairs to your room and strip.”  she turns to him, grabbing his face making him look at her. Oh god she does not look happy. Rafe thought to himself  “and dont you fucking dare touch yourself” she stated before shoving his face away and getting out of the truck. Rafe doesn't say anything as he gets out and follows her inside not wanting to make his punishment worse. 

As he heads to the stairs he notices y/n heading for the kitchen. “y/n? Where are you going?” he asks cautiously. She stops and looks at him over her shoulder “do as you're told and go up stairs rafe.” she says coldly walking away. Rafe gulps and walks up stairs. In his room he strips and sits on his bed looking at his hard cock, fighting the urge to touch it. Downstairs y/n takes her sweet time getting a cup of water and looking out the window some more just to mess with rafe some more. Taking the last sip of water she turns and heads upstairs 

Rafes head flies up when he hears his door close, he sees his beautiful girlfriend standing there with a very unhappy look on her face. “Now rafe do you wanna tell me why you're being punished?” she says slowly walking towards him. “I-i dont k-know” he stutters looking down at the ground knowing damn well what he did to deserve this, just not wanting to admit it. y/n grabs his chin forcing him to look at her, he whimpers slightly at the sudden movement. “Oh i think you do rafey” y/n says a smirk playing on her lips. Rafe shakes his head, tears coming to his eyes, and his cock twitching. “Something about me being uh, what'd you say the biggest slut in bed, and letting your friends say that about me?” she hums at the end looking at him. His eyes go wide knowing he has no way out of this.

“Im sorry” rafe whimpers before his hairs being pulled back. “I'm sorry what” she says getting so close to his face he could almost feel her lips on his. “I-im s-sorry m-mommy” he says as a blush rises on his cheeks. She smiles at him and pulls away. “What are you sorry for baby” she asks the man in front of her. “For saying stuff that wasn't true about us, a-and l-letting them talk ab-about you like that” rafe cries, “im so sorry mommy!” he says struggling to look and hold eye contact with the woman. 

y/n smiles at him and places a quick kiss on his lips. Pulling away and letting go of his face much more gently than before and instead gripping his rock hard cock, watching as he jumps at the sudden relief. “You've been a very bad boy Rafey” she says slowly stroking his cock making his hips jut up. “Please mommy, I'm sorry” he says before biting his lip. She starts stroking him faster, making him moan and cry. “Mommy can i cum please let me cum. I-ill do anything” he begs the woman as he reaches his climax. 

Right as y/n feels him twitch she pulls her hand away making he cry out in frustration. “Oh did you really think I'd let you off that easily?” She laughs at the poor boy “god you're pathetic” she adds, making him turn his face away from her. “Here's what's gonna happen baby.” she starts as she takes off her shirt and shorts, leaving her in her bra and underwear, while he looks at her with hopeful eyes. 

“I'm going to touch myself, you're going to watch me” she says, taking off her underwear so slowly just to tease the man. “And if you touch yourself i'll leave you like this, do you understand me baby boy”  she unclips her bra letting it slide down her arms exposing her breasts to the needy man. 

“Y-yes i understand” he says hypnotized by her breasts to notice he forgot an important word “yes. What” she says standing in front of him. “Yes mommy” he says looking up at her face with pleading eyes. “Good boy,” she says lightly tapping his cheek before getting on the bed, spreading her legs right in front of Rafe so he has a good view. Rafe lets out a loud whimper when he sees how wet she is. Not thinking he reaches out to touch her however his hand gets slapped away as she tsks at him. 

Bringing her hand to her core she collects some of her wetness before bringing her hand to his mouth. Rafe wasted no time in taking her fingers into his mouth, sucking the juices off them, while moaning. y/n pulls her fingers out of his warm mouth and brings it back to her core. She moans as she rubs her clit. Rafes cock twitches and he watches his girlfriend finger herself. 

When she comes she throws her head back and lets out a loud moan of his name. Causing him to whimper again. “Please mommy it hurts” he begs her as she catches her breath. y/n looks at the pathetic man in front of her. “Hmmm i'm not sure you've earned it yet rafey” she looks at him waiting to see what he says “please let me taste you again mommy please” he begs her just wanting to please her. “Come here sweet boy” she spread her legs again. Putting her leg on his shoulder when he's close enough to her “go ahead please mommy” she encourages after seeing his hesitation. 

He wasted no time in leaning down and licking up her slit gathering all her juices,hearing the beautiful girl moan when he reached her clit. Sucking it into his mouth just the way he knows she likes it. y/n runs her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to her and she grinds her hips into his face. Rafe groans looking up at her face. He loves pleasing y/n, he'd do anything to make up for what he did today. He could tell she was close to coming so he shoved two fingers into her wet core to push her over the edge. Hearing her loud moans he caused. He keeps licking and sucking at her until he feels his hair being pulled back. 

Rafes a panting mess when he comes up, looking at her like she's the most beautiful girl in the world, because in his eyes she was. y/n looks down at her boyfriend before chuckling which confuses rafe “you really are impatient huh rafe” when all she gets in return is a more confused look she continues “you like eating my pussy so much you came from humping your bed and making a huge mess” at that he looks down and sees the mess he made before turning bright red and burying  his face in y/n´s stomach “i'm sorry mommy i-i didn't mean too i swear” he cries scared shes gonna be even more mad and punish him more. Though y/n can tell that he's actually scared and upset so she's not going to keep going…. Tonight anyway. 

She shushes  Rafe while rubbing his head “it's okay, you're okay sweetheart.” when she tries to get up he holds onto her tighter “I'm not going anywhere my love, i'm just getting stuff to clean you up okay?” She asks him to which he nods and reluctantly lets go of her. 

y/n goes to the bathroom getting a washcloth wet after using the bathroom. When she leaves the bathroom she sees rafe hugging his pillow like how he was just holding her and smiles. “Okay love can you roll over for me” she asks rubbing his back, once he does she says “i'm just gonna wipe you down okay? That's it, we're all done for tonight” he nods at her with a small smile on his lips. 

Once he's all clean y/n changes the blankets on the bed and gets a pair of boxers for Rafe to put on, and herself one of his shirts and her underwear. 

Crawling into bed with rafe he grabs onto her and puts his head on her chest “thank you mommy” y/n rubs the back of his neck “not mommy right now my love. Were all done for right now” she kisses his head. y/n does bother telling him they'll continue this later. 

“I love you y/n” Rafe mumbles quietly 

“I love you too Rafey” she says, kissing his head again before they both drift off to sleep. 

[justmediocrewriting]

Reader who is against eating a devil fruit soon finds herself eating one to save the life of Luffy and the crew! They are all shocked she would do something like that and sacrifice everything she believed in for their lives and fluffy ending

I’d Make A Deal With The Devil (For You) [m.d.l]

Summary: during a losing battle with the Marines, reader makes a drastic choice to consume the Phase Phase fruit in order to save her crew.

Genre: angst(?), fluff

Pairing: Luffy x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Requested: ✅

Warnings: violence, depictions of blood and injury, panic, language, I think that’s it

A/n: I really enjoyed this one, so thank you so much for requesting it! I really hope this is satisfying for you! ❤️❤️

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All you could see was blood.

Granted, your vision was blurry in your right eye, and your left was swollen shut, so the only thing you could really make out was the vibrant red and some malformed shapes; one of which you recognized as Zoro by the shock of green against red, and panic gripped your heart when you realized he was the only one still standing on deck, surrounded by the fallen bodies of Marines and your crew mates alike. With your poor vision, you couldn’t tell if they were breathing or not, but the amount of blood soaking into the planked deck of the Merry was extremely concerning, and you drew in a deep breath as your heart lurched into your throat.

The blurry, unmoving figure that concerned you the most was the one only mere feet away from yourself; the red vest was darkened with blood, and the signature straw hat was crumpled and laying flat on the deck a few inches away from Luffy’s body. Your heart cinched painfully as you remembered the way Luffy had taken the full force of a swinging blade for you, leading to his chest being horribly slashed and ultimately contributing to his defenseless state. The others weren’t too far away from him — Nami was slumped against the left stairs, and Usopp was at her flank, lying face down, and Sanji was crumpled and clutching at his side a few feet away from the two. The only one still fighting was Zoro, but you weren’t sure how long he’d last against the onslaught.

I need to do something! You thought desperately, guiltily, wracking your brain and tired body for some sort of solution, but you didn’t really know what you could do in your current state. Your right leg was bent at an odd angle and pain resonated up the entire length, telling you that it was clearly broken, and your ribs hurt with every breath you pulled in — your body was in excruciating pain and you could hardly breathe, let alone move — but your crew mates were hurt, they could be dying, and they needed you. Luffy needed you.

Your entire body seized up with fear when Zoro let out a pained yell and you watched helplessly as his blurry shape fell to the deck, a Marine standing over him with the tip of his sword dangerously close to the man’s throat. With Zoro down, there was no one left to oppose the Marines, and everyone was now in major risk of truly losing their lives.

“Zoro,” you rasped out, desperate for him to rise again, but your voice was quiet to even your own ears, and you knew there was no way that it could have reached Zoro — and even if it had, what good would it really do? You were useless anyway; you knew your own crew mates felt this way, too. It was the whole reason they had tasked you with guarding the Devil Fruit when the Marines attacked. You were poor at fighting, with little to no experience in it, and you’d only be a liability on the battlefield — a point that was blatantly proven the minute you exited the protection of the galley. But you knew the crew was being overrun; even with the impressive fighting abilities they bolstered, it would be nearly impossible for anyone to take on a hoard of Marines at the same time, and you only wanted to help. You wanted to be useful to them, to save them, because you loved them. They were your family.

Helplessness washed over you with an alternating wave of anger, and when you clenched your fist against the deck, your fingers dug in to something wet and crumbly. With momentous effort you turned to the side to look at your hand, where your fingers where digging into the soft flesh of that damn fruit, and a fleeting fire of hope sparked inside your chest.

These things grant power, don’t they? You thought to yourself, gazing at the bright lavender skin of the misshapen fruit. Trepidation fluttered in your chest and your stomach rolled at the mere thought of consuming the fruit — none of you had any idea what abilities it would grant, and there was a chance you would be stuck with one that wasn’t even useful for the current situation, — but it was the only hope you had, and you weren’t about to abandon it and your crew’s only chance.

From your periphery you saw Zoro harshly kick the Marine’s ankle, and relief pooled in your gut when the man yelped and fell to the deck, his sword no longer near Zoro’s neck. Zoro raised to wobbly feet, and your relief was quickly swallowed by foreboding as three Marines immediately descended upon him. There was no time for hesitation or regret. Without giving it much thought, you brought the fruit to your mouth and sunk your teeth in, cringing at the utterly rotten, dry taste against your tongue. It was like sandpaper sliding down your throat, but you forced yourself to consume the entire thing; it was thankfully fairly small, and you were able to finish it in roughly ten bites.

At first, nothing happened; you felt no different, and panic gripped your heart as multiple thoughts flooded your mind. What if it hadn’t worked? What if the power was completely useless? What if your crew mates died before you could fully use the power?

Then, a single thought echoed into your head and made you heart ache fiercely.

What if Luffy died before you could save him?

Suddenly, as if your blood had turned to lava within your veins, your body heated from the inside out, and suddenly, you were no longer on the deck of the Merry; you were floating above it.

You also noticed that your leg no longer hurt, and the odd angle it had been put in was cured; your body felt as if it weighed nothing, and when you looked down, you realized with a start that your body truly did weigh nothing — because your physical body was still on the ground, slumped and lifeless-looking, and panic gripped your heart with a ferocity much stronger than before.

Were you dead? Had the Devil Fruit killed you, and now your spirit had vacated your body? Horror filled your veins with ice as you thought of the implication — your only chance at saving your crew mates failed, and now you’d be able to do nothing but watch as they were slaughtered and their remains dragged to the nearest Marine headquarters.

“(Y/N)? What the hell is going on?”

Zoro’s voice broke through your haze of muddy fear, and your heart lightened as you snapped your eyes to his and noticed he was staring right at you — not your physical body, but the one currently floating in the sky. Zoro wasn’t the only one staring at you; the Marines had ceased their attack, and were now staring at you with wide eyes.

They can see me! That’s a good thing, right? You thought, but then another reality crashed into you and nearly knocked you off balance — if you were separated from your body, but not dead, that could only mean one thing: the fruit had worked, as you’d hoped, but the power you were granted was completely useless. Not that you truly understood what your new power was, but separating your soul from your physical body surely wasn’t useful for fighting, was it?

“(Y/N)! Answer me!” Zoro barked, and for the first time you noticed the true fear swirling within his eyes, mixing fluidly with pure confusion, and you realized that maybe Zoro himself thought you were dead, and that he was seeing your spirit.

“I don’t think I’m dead,” you croaked out. “I’m just… separated.”

That didn’t exactly help curb the confusion or fear in Zoro’s eyes, and one Marine used his moment of hesitation to lunge forward. Panic gripped your body (was it still a body?) as the tip of the Marine’s sword dead-eyed for Zoro’s chest — he was going to kill him, you had to do something —

That hot, molten lava once more burned your veins, and in the literal blink of an eye, you were no longer floating above the deck, and instead you were directly in front of the Marine, staring into his wide, terrified eyes. There was a strange feeling in your chest, as if there were some sort of rod of pure electricity stabbing through it, and when you looked down, you choked out a scream as you registered the view of the Marine’s sword piercing straight through your chest.

Despite the clear evidence of being stabbed, there was no pain or blood — and though your body was semi-translucent, the sword held fast in your chest when the Marine yelped and released the hilt, as if your body still held the physical consistency of a normal body.

What the fuck?

“What the hell are you!?” The Marine yelled out, hand flying to his hip to yank a revolver from the holster and point it at you. Despite the fact that you were just as confused and frightened by your strange composition as the Marine, you flashed him a cocky, condescending smile.

“Honey, you just tried to stab me, and that clearly didn’t work. What makes you think a bullet will?”

You were thankful that your voice came out much more confident and snarky than you felt, and the faux disposition you displayed made the Marine take a few more steps back. Hope once again flickered in your chest as you looked around and noticed the other remaining Marines had also backed away from you, hesitant and cautious and confused.

Maybe if I can convince them I actually know how to use this power, it’ll be enough to scare them off.

“You guys look a bit confused,” you said loudly, watching cautiously your surroundings. “I guess they didn’t inform you that there are two Devil Fruit users on this crew?”

The Marine, the one who had stabbed you, sputtered indignantly, “That’s not possible! Headquarters has the record of every single member of the Strawhats, and the only one listed to be a Devil Fruit user is Monkey D. Luffy!”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you began to feel anxious, but you rolled your eyes and popped out a translucent hip with much more confidence and sass than you thought could be possible for yourself in your current state of panic. “Does it look like he’s the only one?”

The Marine faltered and his hand shook against the holster on his hip. He seemed to be contemplating something, his body completely rigid, but you had the strange feeling that the man wanted to lunge at you and prove your internal bluff — fear gripped you tightly, but it eased when the Marine took another step back and addressed his men loudly.

“Retreat, men! We are not equipped to handle an unknown Devil Fruit power! I repeat, retreat!”

There was a flurry of feet beating against planks, and relief washed over you as the dark blue uniformed men quickly ran back to their own ship. Your shoulders slumped, and you felt exhausted. Soon enough, the only bodies left on the bloodied deck were your fallen crew mates, some of who were now groaning in pain, and the only thought you could fully latch onto before everything faded to black was thank god they’re alive.

You could hear voices, but they were faint and the words within indecipherable, but you were pretty confident that they belonged to Nami and Luffy. Your heart skipped a beat at the latter’s adorable lilt, but it then sunk at the clear worry etched within when your brain could finally decipher the words.

“When will she wake up?”

“I don’t know, Luffy, I’m not a doctor. She was pretty badly hurt even before she ate the Devil Fruit. There’s no telling what kind of toll it could have taken on her body given her condition when she ate it.”

You hated it when they worried about you. It made you feel even more useless to them, like salt to a wound, and the reminder of the choice you’d desperately made just cut a little deeper — it was something you never fathomed doing. The exchange was too steep, and the powers granted by Devil Fruits were just too inhuman, it wasn’t natural. In your mind, no one should ever wield powers like that, and the only person you’d ever accepted to wield them was Luffy, but that was for another reason entirely that you didn’t really want to think about given the state of the situation.

“‘M fine…” you grumbled, and you wanted to wince at how scratchy and weak your voice sounded.

“(Y/N)!” Luffy nearly shouted, and you barely had time to prepare yourself for the onslaught of pain in your body as the bed rocked and Luffy crushed you under his own weight. You wheezed before breaking off into coughs, and the weight was lifted from your body with a rather shrill yell from Nami.

“You idiot! She has a broken leg, are you stupid?”

Nami wasn’t entirely wrong, and her verbal observation brought the aches and pains to the forefront of your mind; your leg was now aching something fierce, but that wasn’t really what you were focused on. What you were focused on, however, was the pleasant tingle currently zinging beneath your skin from the brief physical contact you’d had with Luffy. Your face heated as your coughs eased, and when you finally cracked open your eyes you were greeted with the sight of Luffy’s dazzling grin, not even the least bit dimmed by the rather irritated looking Nami at his side; Luffy’s eyes were bright, crinkled at the sides in the way they always were when he smiled, and your heart stuttered briefly in your chest at the sight.

Feeling slightly awkward but still buzzing from the warm embrace he’d pulled you in, you sent the rubbery boy the most convincing smile you could given your current state.

“Heya, captain.” You murmured, and Luffy’s smile just widened even further, and, fuck, that looked too good on him.

“How are you feeling?” Nami cut in, and your eyes snapped to her face. Her brows were furrowed, and truly you hated the way her worried frown shadowed her beautiful features. Wanting desperately to wipe it away, you smiled at her, and croaked, “I’m doing okay, I think. A bit thirsty, though.”

Nami didn’t look fully convinced, but her shoulders slipped down ever so slightly, and her lips uncurled from a frown to a straight line. She gave you a hesitant nod, and with the assertion that she was going to let the others know you were awake and fetch you a glass of water, she flitted from the room, leaving you alone with a still-smiling Luffy. Without the distraction of Nami in the room, your attention was forced to be held only by Luffy, and jittery nerves erupted under your skin. The nerves intensified when Luffy reached forward and plucked your hand up, encasing it within his own.

“Are you truly okay, (Y/N)?” Luffy asked, and despite the eye crinkling smile still on his face, his words dripped with nothing but seriousness — there was concern etched in there, too, but you could tell that it wasn’t just pertaining to your physical state. Luffy was asking about your mental and emotional state, as well; and given the circumstances, you could understand why.

From the moment you’d agreed to join his ragtag group of outcasts, you’d made your stance on Devil Fruits and their users quite clear; you’d never treated Luffy with anything less than respect, and though you had never considered Luffy to be a menace as you did most Devil Fruit users, your opinion on them had hardly swayed. There was no doubt in your mind that Luffy, as well as the rest of the crew, were more than likely incredibly confused and shocked by your decision to consume the fruit that Luffy had suspiciously secured days prior.

You tossed Luffy’s question around in your head, and thought heavily about it. Were you okay? All in all, aside from suddenly being able to literally exit your own body, you hadn’t felt any different; you felt human, normal, and you hadn’t grown any strange appendages — that was a plus. So, aside from the cramps and aches and general fatigue, physically you were okay. But mentally…

You were still pretty okay.

Of course, you still had some reservations about your choice to consume the fruit; the powers you’d been granted with definitely were not natural, and the act of going against every single fiber of your own personal code rubbed you in a way that wasn’t pleasant; but seeing Luffy before you, a little bruised and cut up, but alive, and armed with the knowledge that the rest of the crew was still alive, you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold any ill-feelings or regret towards your decision. You were okay. Giving Luffy a true, genuine smile, you asserted as much to him.

“I’m okay Luffy, truly.”

The smile that Luffy sent you was face crinkling and nothing short of absolutely dazzling, and for a mere second you felt as though you were looking into the literal sun.

“I’m glad. Because I’m okay, too.”

A silence suddenly fell over the two of you, the only sounds decipherable being that of the gulls crying outside and the slap of waves against the hull of the Merry. Luffy still had your hand clasped in his, and the realization of it had your body honing in completely on the sensation. Luffy’s hands were warm, insanely so, his palms calloused and slightly rough but also with a touch of soft, and his fingers were long, so long, and your body heated from the inside out.

You didn’t have long to build up jittery nerves over the intimacy before the door slammed open, startling you so badly that you jerked your hand out of Luffy’s as if it had been burned. Guilt gnawed at your insides at the way the rubber man’s face fell, but you didn’t have much time to mull over it before Usopp was springing across the room to shove his face into yours.

“(Y/N)! You’re awake! I’m so happy — you did amazing out there!” Usopp ushered out, words slightly melding together in the fast pace he was spewing them out. You couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed at the compliment — you hadn’t really done much, close to nothing at all. All you’d done was bullshit the Marines away. That hardly counted as ‘amazing’ in your book.

Your flush deepened as you caught sight of Zoro, Nami, and Sanji entering the room as well, and honestly, this room was much too small for six people, and was it just you, or was it extremely hot at the moment?

Usopp was still spewing praises and, weirdly, declarations of love in your direction, and the other three were simply looking at you with warm smiles, and as you met the eyes of every one of your crewmates, your heart began to resonate with a familial warmth.

But then your eyes connected with Luffy’s, and there was such raw emotion and pure love swirling within those chocolate orbs, and when he sent you his lopsided smile, breathing and alive, there was only one thing you could think;

If I was to do it all over again, time and time again, I would still make a deal with the devil for you.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hiya, I love your yandere archons and a someone else request got an idea brewing in my head. You said the reader can’t be powerful or more because it would make them like the traveler… But what if the reader isn’t even a human? Like a primordial deity/being or something like lovecraft? An eldritch being? Basically a darling who can’t be physically chained or overpowered? How can they charm/persuade the darling? Like trying to seduce Azothoth!like darling, like those scheming yandere they are? Like you know those court drama where the consorts fight for the emperor? Ya know poison, blackmail, etc? That’s the archons for the darling. Is this too complicated? Anyway keep up the good work.

ah this was such an interesting ask! it definitely let me bring out some more obscure head canons of mine so thank you so much! :3c

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behavior, mentions of animal slaughter, uh not much this is actually a pretty tame post, archons are actually kinda nice for once, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti would hound you constantly, showing up wherever you seem to be staying to constantly chat you up. At first he starts just straight up begging but slowly it devolves into just chatting, slowly making you fall in love with him as he learns more about you and you him.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you saw the familiar green bard bounding over to you, a bottle of wine in his hands and a basket of some human food you had mentioned enjoying. He made sure to always bring something to share with you while you talked, just a little something to keep the conversation going for longer. The bottle of wine was usually for Venti but if you showed interest he wouldn’t mind sharing. Slowly, as he visits you day after day, you find yourself enjoying the presence of the boisterous male. He may have fallen first, but you fell harder.

Yandere!Zhongli would use his history of Liyue to woo you, thrilling I know. This somehow seems to work in his favor though as he can invite you on walks with him and then spend the whole time telling you about the history of the area and all the fun little details. It may seem boring, but somehow the century old dragon seems to make it fun, his passion for history rubbing off on you just a little bit.

You listened intently as Zhongli told you random, generally useless facts about the spot you currently stood at. While you will admit that he had bored you at first, you had come to love his strange little information tidbits. The passion he had for history was admirable and the joyful effect it seemed to have on him rubbed off on you the more he told you. It had started with a simple proposition: join him for a walk and if he told you something you didn’t know, that he could prove was true, then you’d join him for another. If you did know it already, then he would leave you alone. What he didn’t tell you though was that he had no plans of leaving you alone, setting up something that was entirely untrue just to win the little deal. It’s the only time he’s ever lied to you.

Yandere!Raiden would act similarly to male birds, where she flaunts what she’s capable of to entice you to choose her. Though she doesn’t do a silly dance with pretty feathers, instead she showcases her power. She flaunts her capabilities as a partner and uses that to entice you.

While your power as an eldritch being was scaled differently from Raiden, it didn’t mean she couldn’t still showcase her strength to you. Showing you the skeleton of the giant serpent she had slain was only so impressive so instead she challenges you. Bring her anything and she’ll kill it. From wild boar to giant whales, everything you had brought to Raiden she made quick work of. She even offered to dive into the waters and hunt down something herself but you insisted it wasn’t necessary. She had proven herself plenty, you were simply giving her a hard time to see how far she’d go. It almost made you feel bad, killing the insignificant wildlife simply for a bit of a show, but Raiden always made sure the animal went to good use. That was something you liked about her, even if she was busy showing off and flaunting to you, she still made sure that nothing was wasted. 

Yandere!Furina would have nothing to offer but herself. She isn’t incredibly funny, she’s not super strong, she can’t tell you cool facts about her nation or even spend all day talking to you. All she can give you is late nights under the stars, laying there as she points out all the constellations to you. In her early years as the Hydro Archon she would often spend her time stargazing, finding the action perfect to unwind when she was stressed.

Every night, after finishing up with court proceedings for the day, Furina would meet you at the same spot. She’d lay out a blanket, whether you lay on it with her or not, and stare up at the sky. Sometimes she’s silent, just enjoying your presence as a calming figure in her life, and sometimes she’ll point out the constellations to you. Furina thinks you’re absolutely darling but you’re way above her league and she doesn’t have anything that she can use to attract you to her. So she settles for these quiet nights with you, gazing at the stars as she used to in her youth. On nights where she does tell you about the constellations, she tells you how to find it, where the name comes from, and if it applies, the story behind each one. Her favorites are Cassiopeia and Cetus.

[artemis32]

Myriad • Aizawa

I kind of hate this, but also, it was fun to write - that being said, which character should i do next (after shiggy)

also, these will all be drabbles because I can't commit to fics. It just never works out

myriad masterlist

****

You were an enigma.

Aizawa, in all his years as both a Pro-Hero and a teacher, had never come across someone like you.

What was your quirk?

He'd been your teacher for nearly a whole semester, and he wasn't any closer to guessing the nature of your quirk.

The Quirk Registration Database had, shockingly, been little help. You were barely mentioned in the directory - your name was only accompanied by the vague mention of the number of quirks you possessed.

Two.

Was it a quirk passed down by one of your parents? A combination of both?

The longer he observed you though, the more certain he became that you were one of the few anomalies within society, someone who'd mutated a quirk, rather than had one passed down.

If pressed for an answer, he, quite frankly, wouldn't be able to tell what your quirk was. Of course, he had his suspicions (many of which were proven wrong), just like the other teachers and students (also wrong), but no one ever really knew for sure. And they wouldn't know until you told them yourself.

That same uncertainty that surrounded your quirk was a large part of the reason why you were paired against him in the semester's final practical exam.

With such an unpredictable quirk, the only way to truly gauge your proficiency as a hero was to take that quirk away.

It was more than obvious to everyone, teachers, and students alike, that your quirk was always active. It seemed instinctual, active without so much as a thought from you.

This time, Aizawa would test you, find out just how reliant you were on this mysterious quirk of yours.

****

Aizawa didn't curse, especially not in front of his students or fellow faculty, but he felt that, in this particular situation, it was warranted.

He'd been wrong. So laughably, terribly wrong.

Your quirk wasn't a crutch. Far from it.

He'd caught up to you quickly, neutralising your quirk almost immediately, and had gone in for the kill, capture weapon slicing through the air with a swift swoosh, and-

You'd evaded it.

Fast.

Too fast.

As far as he was aware, your quirk didn't include speed enhancements. Even if it did, your quirk was neutralised, made useless.

So why then were you so fast? How did you manage to evade his capture weapon in an instant?

He didn't have time to linger on it at that moment.

You were fast, yes, but he was faster.

Talent would only get you so far. In life, experience tended to trump talent.

As much as he hated it, he'd have to get in close.

He jumped down to street level, intent on ending things quickly.

****

He'd underestimated you. They all had.

Honestly, it was foolish of him to believe you relied on your quirk that heavily. It was clear to him now that while your quirk, whatever it was, might have been strong, your endurance and physical capabilities far exceeded even your fellow classmates.

It made him wander why you held back so much. Because you did.

The entrance exam, the USJ incident, even the sports festival - you seemed to hold back during all of it.

Aizawa didn't understand.

If your goal was to be a hero, to do well, why would you hold back?

You'd defeated him with little to no effort, barely breaking a sweat the entire time. He'd managed to wrap you in his capture weapon, with a lot more of a struggle than he'd anticipated, and it'd be pointless. The moment he blinked, your quirk had reactivated, and he'd been back to square one.

It was embarrassing - the fact that it seemed so easy for you to beat him and complete the exam without a quirk. Even your classmates had been shocked.

The only person who hadn't broken out into a cold sweat was principal Nezu, the small animal-like mutant cackling like a maniac, as if he knew something they didn't. He probably did.

****

"What exactly is your quirk?"

He'd finally reached his limit. He had to know.

Not only to satiate his curiosity, but also to determine exactly how they'd test you during the training camp. He'd held off for as long as he could, but enough was enough.

"Sensei?"

"Your quirk. What is it? Tell me."

You tilt your head, looking an awful lot like a small cat, even with that ridiculous blindfold he was certain you couldn't see through. How could someone so formidable in combat look so innocent?

"You don't know?" you ask, mouth pulling upward into a small grin.

Irritation creeps into his expression, making his brow twitch. You seemed shocked, amused, as if you'd given him any sort of indication regarding your quirk. To be frank, certain aspects of your personality grated his nerves.

You were, to put it bluntly, annoying. Childish beyond words, playful, and you often tended to tease others to the point of furor.

"No. I don't."

"Oh. Well, I have two quirks."

You speak slowly, as if using big words would confuse him.

He feels his jaw tick.

“Yes, yes,” he says impatiently. “I know. But what are they?”

“I can’t just tell you sensei. That’s no fun.”

You’re still grinning, but your tone has taken on a whinier quality, one that makes him rethink his choice to become a teacher. He feels a headache developing in his temples, fingers uselessly massaging the throbbing area as he groans.

“Just tell me.”

“Nope. I’ll give you three hints, and you can guess!”

Aizawa grinds his teeth together.

She’s a child. You don’t hit children.

Patience. Have patience, he reminds himself, sighing heavily.

You were like a more annoying version of Mic, except Mic didn’t make everything a game. You were like a toddler stuck in a demons body.

“Fine,” he sighs again, gesturing for you to continue.

You hold out your hand, holding up one finger.

“Hint number one!” you say, in a tone similar to a game show host.

“I’m like Buzz Lightyear!”

That’s… extremely unhelpful.

“Buzz… Lightyear?”

You pout slightly, flopping down into a chair opposite his desk with a groan.

“Aw, maaaan, you’re no fun sensei. How old are you anyway?”

A noise of disbelief rumbles through his chest.

“That’s not- Obviously I know who Buzz Lightyear is! I just don’t see how that’s relevant!”

That infuriating smirk finds it’s way back onto your face, and you kick your feet up on his desk while you lean back in your chair, the absolute picture of nonchalance. From somewhere inside your blazer pocket, you pull out a lollipop, mindlessly gnawing the red candy.

“Fine. Next hint then.”

You show him two fingers, head lolling back as you speak around the lollipop in your mouth.

“I’m like a dragonfly.”

Aizawa closes his eyes, a disgruntled sigh of disbelief escaping him despite his best efforts.

“What do dragonflies and Buzz Lightyear have to do with one another?”

You shrug, biting down on the hard candy, crushing it between your molars.

“Nothing.”

A toddler. An infuriating, know-it-all toddler. That’s what you are.

“Just… give me the last hint.”

You hold out three fingers.

“I’m like a combination of pi and… Hm…”

You pause for a moment, sitting up straight.

“And a sonar scan!”

“I give up.” Aizawa responds plainly.

“What?! But you didn’t even try to guess!”

He shrugs, arms crossed over his chest. “I give up.”

Your mouth pinches into a scowl, and he was sure that if you weren’t wearing that blindfold, you’d be frowning.

“Tell me, or don’t. I have no guesses.”

“Not even one?”

“Nope.”

You groan and slump in your seat, grumbling about how boring he is, and he has to fight to hide a small smile.

Okay. Maybe you were endearing. Slightly.

“Fine! You’re no fun.”

****

To say he was overwhelmed was a gross understatement.

Your quirks were terrifying. There was no other way to put it. They were powerful, and overwhelming, and just plain terrifying. You really had been holding back all semester.

When he asked why you hadn’t told anyone about your quirks, your response was simultaneously simple and off-putting.

“No one asked.”

As if you’d expected them to.

But… you had a point. In the entire four months you’d been in class 1a, no one had openly approached you and asked what your quirk was.

Come to think of it, you weren’t exactly friends with any of your classmates either. Was it because they were thrown off by your mysterious quirks or your personality? Maybe.

Now that he knew though, he felt strangely… protective of you.

It wasn’t as if you needed his protection or concern.

Regardless, he decided that during the summer training camp, he’d pay you some extra attention. Not to help you improve your already flawless quirk, rather, he wanted to… observe you. You’d piqued his interest.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

There is so much strength, in character and in narrative, when Cerrit walks away. He realizes so early that Laerryn will not choose different (that she can't choose different), realizes that their fates are sealed. And he leaves. He realizes this and leaves because there is nothing left for him to do here. There is no point to staying and continuing to plead with them, with her, to make a different choice. It's futile. There is no role for him to play anymore in that thread.

So, he walks away. He goes to put his efforts to where they might actually matter. They are doomed because it's not possible for her to do anything other than what she will do. He realizes this, accepts that his time to influence the course of events is over, and goes to do what he still has influence over: tending to his children's needs in these final hours, minutes.

Honestly, there is a humility in looking at all this and accepting that, even with his best efforts, he sincerely has no power, no ability to change this. That this is beyond his ability to dictate how this goes. This specifically is beyond him. But other threads are not. He puts his responsibility to tend to and comfort those who need him ahead of believing that he is capable of solving this, of solving anything.

Specifically because he walks, the Narrative Hand Of God—in defiance of the bleakness and futility of his struggling in vain this entire story so far—delivers him the means to save his children. Walking away is the right choice for Cerrit to make for himself because by doing so, he receives the chance to save someone, anyone, the only people he can possibly save enough to see at least one more morning.

And leaving is an incredibly difficult choice. Walking away from the party is not done lightly. He chooses to do what one NEVER does in this genre and in this game: look the end of the world in the eye and say, "I cannot do anything more." But, it is proven to be the right choice for Cerrit because the narrative literally rewards him.

He understands with great, sharp clarity that it is futile and useless to remain here trying to change the choices the others cannot ever make differently. He sees the path of inevitability, and he accepts that he can no longer change fate.

He does not doom anyone by walking away; he walks away because he recognizes they're already doomed. If he stayed, his children would've lost their chance for the dawn. By walking away, he gains the ability to save them, to save anyone at all. That is something he can still change. He walks away, and in response, the world gifts him the opportunity to change a small fate. And that means everything.

[gabessquishytum]

I started thinking of that Alpha!Dream and Alpha!Calliope bitching Hob prompt from a while ago. This one: https://gabessquishytum.tumblr.com/post/735255882065199104/more-immortal-throuple-omegaverse-3-hob-during

It had been a year since Dream and Calliope had claimed Hob and made him an omega. Much had changed in that time, it took months more for his body to make the full change from alpha to omega, for him to learn and adapt to new instincts, to reassure his friends and allies he was safe, and, most annoyingly, to learn the rules and etiquette surrounding his new station. He had made his tutors despair once he’d learned everything he needed. It was more fun for him when when a noble knew he was deliberately snubbing them.

His body had changed so much. He had put on more weight and now had a healthy layer of fat over his muscles. He looked softer in the face, shoulders, and thighs. His tummy gently sloped over his belt and his chest was more padded. He could still break a man with his hands, but he had learned people seemed to underestimate him now that he was an omega.

He had yet to return either of his mating marks. He wanted to make Dream and Calliope work for it. He didn't mind having been claimed, nor becoming an omega, but he wanted to be romanced. Instinct had proven they fit together, now they had to win his heart. He had expectations of a proper courtship.

Dream and Calliope were determined to woo him by the time Hob's heats stabilized and it was safe to have children. There were a few missteps, in the beginning: pretty and useless trinkets, soft and delicate clothes, though Hob did take an especially gauzy outfit or two for future sexy times. They figured things out eventually. Hob had great fun flirting with his alphas and scandalizing the nobility during the process. They had better get used to it, and him. He was only willing to bend so far. Truly, it didn't take long for Hob to fall in love, not with the way his alphas tried so hard to win his heart and respected his agency, not when they would take turns outside his chamber door to comfort and ease him through his heats.

When he finally accepted their suit, Dream and Calliope were overcome with emotion. They didn't…they thought they have to work harder and longer, maybe up to or even beyond his first stable heat cycle. Hob had every right to be angry with them. It was hard to fight off one alpha in rut, much less two. He had had very little choice in the matter. Hob immediately put their fears to rest.

In the week leading up to his heat Hob spent very little time with his chosen alphas. Instead, he wandered the castle and palace grounds, trailing the sweet, heady scent of pre-heat. It clung, thick and pungent, to those Hob called friend. It was driving Dream and Calliope crazy. They were getting very little work done, following that delicious scent whenever it crossed their path. If they were lucky it would lead to Hob, wherein they would be showered with kisses and coaxed into a cuddle, more often than not they would find a soldier, servant, or, on occasion, the odd noble Hob had befriended.

The last two days before his heat Hob rarely left his rooms. He had to make sure his nest was perfect for his alphas. He had taken their favorite and most comfortable clothes to weave into the nest. The bottom was padded with the covers of their shared bed. Pillows were tucked and stashed, building out the edges. He fiddled and fluffed until satisfied.

On the day his heat finally hit, Hob had just enough presence of mind to garb himself in his favorite silk lingerie and drape himself in the best of his courting jewelry. Before he left his room he grabbed a diaphanous robe that complemented his outfit.

Dream was pacing the parlor of their private suite, while Calliope sat white-knuckled on the sofa. The castle had been emptied, outside the few servants needed to keep them fed and watered. The thought of others, competition, near Hob was enough to send them into a near frenzy, only the faint sounds emerging from his room kept them from scouring the grounds for intruders. As Dream passed behind Calliope the door to Hob's room opened. When he stepped out Calliope’s breath caught in her throat and Dream had to anchor himself lest he lose control. This was it, they were finally going to be claimed by their omega.

His scent billowed out from the room, a teasing delight for the senses. Hob was beautiful, incandescent. A robe teased the edges of his body, belted at the waist. His lingerie, where visible, concealed as much as it revealed. Along his arms glinted golden bangles and bracelets. Delicate strands of jewels encircled his neck. Dream's ruby in pride of place. Gilded chains sparkled in the light where they were braided into his dark hair. He was a summer afternoon, sharp vanilla and juicy oranges, heat heavy on the tongue.

He padded into the room on bare feet, headed for his alphas. He pulled Calliope to her feet, pulled her hands to his faced and dropped a kiss on the backs of both before scenting along her dainty wrists. “My queen, will you join me?”

She growled, low and wanting, and dug her fingers into his hair, pulling him down for a searing kiss. “Yes, of course, sweeting,” she breathed against his lips.

Hob laughed. “Only for the two of you.”

He moved her hands to his waist so he could reach for Dream and draw him close. His arms went around Dream's shoulders as he dragged his nose along the other man's scent gland. Dream whined, high in his throat. His hands landing on Hob's hips to pull him closer still. “And you, my king? Will you let me make you mine?”

“Yes, my treasure,” he rasped. “We will be yours as you are ours.”

Hob sighed, pleased, and led them to his, their, nest. He crawled in first, positioned himself in the middle as artfully as he could manage. “I expect to be with child by heats end, and will be most disappointed if you fail.”

His alpha’s moaned and scrambled after him.

It got much longer that anticipated, but I had fun with it.

—🏵

Super duper very much incredibly obsessed with this!!!! Especially how youve written it and all the lush descriptions!!! Am also absolutely love this whole au concept in general tbh. The role reversal of Hob being bitched and then Dream and Calliope submitting to him utterly... the power dynamics make me drool.

And I'm soooo into the process of the body shifting from alpha to omega. Can you imagine Calliope and Dream watching and trying to hold themselves back as they watch their omega coming into himself? The changing distribution of his weight, the way he slowly outgrows clothes designed for alpha body types, the way they catch him admiring his naked body in the mirror almost every day. Calliope has bitten her fingernails down so badly because she needs to do something to stop herself from going right over and burying her face in Hob’s soft belly. The belly that might soon carry their child.....

Hob slowly begins to realise that despite the unfortunate circumstances of his changing from alpha to omega... he would have chosen this. This is who he was meant to be. And Dream and Calliope are meant to be his alphas. He is proud to be theirs, proud to build a nest for them, proud to present his dripping heat-slick hole for the very first time. He is so excited to get pregnant by his alphas, he can barely manage to keep up the dominance in his voice as he commands them to fuck him full of heirs.

They didn't find their omega in the easy way, but they did absolutely find the right one. Dream and Calliope look forward to long lives filled with love. And the snarkiest omega in the land. He was quite literally made for them.

[celtic-crossbow]

So I Live a Lie in the Light

Setting: Forest (6 year gap) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Tabby O’Sullivan (OC) Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; mentions of child abuse; mentions of pregnancy Summary: Daryl has a secret. He’s always known it could affect all of those he loved. Just not like this. A/N: Tumblr is being an uber twat right now and won’t let me edit so hopefully there are no mistakes.

It had been getting more difficult to hide. Emotions always made it worse. For most of his life, he had tried to hide from them; push them down and bury them. And that was before he was bitten. He had been so young and careless, out in the woods after a particularly heavy beating from his father. Nature had always been his safe place. That night, it was anything but safe. 

He had thought it was a dog at first, a low growl the first indication he hadn’t been alone. He had stumbled through the bushes and landed directly in the middle of the dinner table. The creature was kneeling over the deer carcass, its clawed hands holding open a gaping hole so its canine-like maw could delve inside. 

It had heard him, probably smelled him now that he thought back on it. Running had proven useless, its long legs catching up to him with ease. He remembered thinking he would die right there that night. Even now, he could feel the pain flare to life around the scar its teeth had left on his shoulder. 

Then it had let him go. 

His daddy had been passed out drunk when he got home, allowing him to care for the wound without explanation. He would find out on the first full moon since the attack that the creature had been Merle and what exactly that bite meant for the rest of his life. 

So Daryl, a lycan, had kept his secret. It made slaughtering the undead while alone a piece of cake. Even when he was with his chosen family, he had strength he would never be able to explain if he didn’t hide it well. Had he not been so consumed by fear, he could have saved them. He could have saved so many of them. 

After Rick’s supposed death, he had skulked off into the woods to find his brother’s body, dead or alive. He had left everyone behind. He had left her behind. If there had been anyone he would have told, it would have been her. He wanted to tell her; wanted to show her how much he trusted her. How much he loved her. 

But he was afraid. The walkers had done nothing more than die and had become the enemy. What would that mean for him? A lycan. A werewolf. 

Rather than live with her rejection, he chose to live with her absence. It was better for both of them this way. 

Daryl had made her promise to never visit aside from after each full moon. He had been adamant and, so far, Tabby had held to the promise. She’d set the world on fire for that man, so even when her heart ached for his presence, she held fast to the agreement. 

Until now. 

Circumstances called for an earlier visit. She brought supplies with her but secretly hoped this would be when he’d return. It had been six years. Two day visits every 30 days or so just wasn’t cutting it. He’d always allow her to stay in his camp, sharing touches and sweet kisses and whispered words. Sharing his bed and his body. She yearned for those moments. 

Maybe today was the day. 

“Daryl, are you here?” Tabby peeked into the tent, surprised to find Dog stretched out on the bedroll but no archer. “Daryl?” With careful, quiet steps—just like he’d taught her—she crept across the forest floor. It wasn’t long before she heard the familiar snarls of a herd. Oh god, no! 

She didn’t call for him. It would only alert them to her presence when he could be perfectly fine and hiding to wait it out. But why would he leave Dog? There was a new, unfamiliar sound as she closed in, an animal of some sort. Probably, being mauled and eaten, the poor thing. When she could see a few of the uncoordinated, shuffling bodies, she pressed herself against the nearest tree, carefully leaning around to the other side. 

What she saw defied everything logical she had ever been taught up until the dead began to walk. 

A large, black creature was slaughtering walkers left and right; taking heads and limbs and tossing them carelessly. It was covered in fur and stood on two legs at about seven feet, with decipherable knees but canine hocks below them. The fingers and toes were tipped with large, razor-sharp claws that were slicing through flesh like butter. The torso was comparable to that of a human but larger, broader with pronounced skeletal and muscular features. But its head—Its head was large with canine features: elongated snout, pointed ears, and a mouth full of dangerously sharp, dripping teeth. 

Tabby was frozen to the spot with wide eyes, tears on her lashes, and only one coherent thought: Daryl. 

Had it killed him? 

The creature paused with a walker’s head in its grasp, raising its snout to sniff the air—and turned its black gaze right to where she was hiding. 

“Oh fuck.” She whispered, stumbling backwards before she turned around and began to run back to the camp. There was a roar unlike any she had ever heard from somewhere behind her but then the sound of more walkers being dispatched. “Dog!” Tabby screamed, relieved when the canine poked his head out of the tent. “Dog, come! We have to find Daryl!” She saw the archer’s pack on the ground, choking on a sob. Why would he go anywhere without supplies? “Come, Dog! We have to—”

When she turned, she was face to face with an open maw of pointed fangs, rivulets of thick saliva stretching and falling to the leaves. She lifted her foot to take a step back, watching its eyes lower and then rise before it growled. She couldn’t die. Not now. She hadn’t survived years of slow moving corpses to be taken out like this when she was so close to everything she could have ever wanted, apocalypse or not. 

“Dog.” She whispered, oddly concerned that the canine hadn’t made a single sound. She started to risk a glance but didn’t have to look far. Dog was sitting calmly at her side, looking up at the creature with his tongue hanging out the side of his open mouth. 

Movement in front of her brought Tabby’s eyes forward. A huge, clawed hand was reaching for her, slowly. She whimpered, raising her shoulders and screwing her eyes shut. The touch on her face was shockingly gentle. When it pulled away, she released the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes. It was backing away. 

It made a noise before things began to shift. Bones and colors and size, shrinking and morphing until—

“Daryl?!”

He was naked as the day he was born, a hand out against a tree to balance himself as if the change had sapped his energy. The look he was giving her was unreadable, so many emotions flitting across his face that she couldn’t pinpoint just one. 

“Ya weren’t s’posed to come here.” He whispered. 

“Yeah, I get that now.” She snapped. “What the fuck is going on?” He stepped toward and when she stepped back, his expression crumbled. 

“You’re afraid of me now.” He choked on a sob, his chin quivering. Daryl walked briskly past her and grabbed his pack, jerking out clothing and proceeded to begin dressing himself. “Ya can go if ya want.” The tremble in his voice made it clear that wasn’t what he truly wanted. Besides, she came to tell him something and now, more than ever, it seemed more imperative. 

“Daryl, I—” The redhead braved a step toward him, visibly trembling. Yes, she was afraid. Even so, something in her gut told her that he would never hurt her. She was afraid because she didn’t understand. She needed to know what this meant for her. How it changed things. “I need an explanation. I need to know—”

Tabby paused, standing straighter when he went still with his shirt halfway pulled over his shoulders. Daryl sniffed the air—once, then twice—and turned to her, his brow creased. “Ya smell diff’rent.”

“You can smell me? Like—a dog?”

“Lycan.” He corrected, pulling his shirt the rest of the way down. The archer began to step toward her, but she consciously made her feet stay planted. 

“Lycan?” Tabby queried, blinking.

“Werewolf.” Daryl stated calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He was nearly in front of her now, taking a moment to lean in and inhale through his nose once again. “Why do ya smell diff’rent?”

“New body wash?” She giggled nervously, a fine shaking to her person but still not moving away. 

He actually dared to look insulted. “Ain’t like that, Tabby-cat. S’ya scent. Your smell. Ain’t your clothes or soap or perfume. S’you.” The jig was up. She had to tell him and then he’d need to her what it meant; if it was dangerous. What she needed to do. 

“So,” The redhead dropped her gaze, toeing at the rocks. “What happens when—lycans?” He nodded. “When lycans and humans have sex and that results in the creation of a little being?” 

Daryl stood up straight, looming over her in a way that had never intimidated her before that moment. “You’re—pregnant?” Tabby nodded, her chin quivering. Daryl barked out a laugh and doubled over, hands on his knees.

She stared with wide blue eyes, incredulous. “You’re seriously laughing right now?”

The hunter shook his head and stood up with an expression of pure relief. “Thought ya’d got bit. Didn’t have the—dead stench but I didn’t know how else to take it. Ya weren’t s’posed to be able.” He sobered quickly, reaching cautiously for her shoulders. When she didn’t back away, he pulled her in against him. “Anyway, aint been through it ‘fore n’ haven’t ran into many others like me, but s’far s’I know, ain’t no diff’rent than a human. Just—” he trailed off, easing his hold on her so that she could move back a little. 

Tabby looked up at him, fear present in her trembling orbs. “Just what?”

Daryl bit his lip nervously. “Kid’ll have the curse. Ain’t no two ways ‘bout it. Don’t know how much or how lil’ it’ll show up. Could be born like a pup, could be human. Could change immediately, could take months, years. S’a lot I don’t know.” He let her go and turned away. “M’sorry. Didn’t think ya’d ever—”

Tabby stood in stunned silence, completely overwhelmed and more than a little frightened. One thing hadn’t changed, though. She didn’t think it ever would. She stepped up after a deep breath, wondering if he already knew she was closer because of super hearing or smell. Regardless, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her head between his shoulder blades, pushing back the mental image of them snapping and shifting only a few minutes before. 

She still loved him. He was still somehow her Daryl, even if she had a lot to learn. 

“I’m scared. You can’t blame me for that.” She felt more than heard him sigh. “But I’m not scared of you.” Now a sharp intake of breath, blue eyes searching for her over his shoulder. Tabby leaned back, only enough for him to turn within her embrace, pressing herself right back into his chest. His arms encircled her immediately, warm and familiar. “I’m scared for our baby, what it means for them. What sort of life they’ll have to lead. What precautions we’ll have to take.”

Daryl nodded but didn’t interrupt. 

“I do know that I want this and I want it with you.” She smiled against his shirt, squeezing him tighter. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Together.” He repeated softly, a hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. 

Pulling back, she gave him an all too familiar smirk, a mischievous twinkle in her wet eyes. “So, if I scratched behind your ear, would your leg shake?”

“Stop.”

[harryforvogue]

a blurb about harry and lucía vacationing in ecuador, but everytime someone mentions a wedding or marriage, the reader has to take a shot hehe. 4.2k words of fluff. happy reading!

***

It comes as no surprise that half way through the movie that Lucía’s selected, she’s fast asleep on Harry’s shoulder. It’s kind of interesting how she sleeps though she has earbuds in and the movie, which is an action movie with lots of fighting and loud noises, doesn't even affect her. She snuggles up against him and sleeps as if it’s the most normal thing. She even sleeps through the turbulence that has Harry gripping his seat, muttering swears under his breath.

She wakes up halfway through the flight all glassy-eyed, and looks up at him. He’s thrown a blanket over them and turned her movie off.

“You slept for several hours,” he whispers. “Your neck is going to hurt so bad.”

She’s blinking the sleep out of her eyes. “Should have bought one of those neck pillows.”

“Says you can buy them on the flight for a mere 30 dollars if you were interested.”

She frowns. “I’ll take your shoulder instead.”

“It’s quite comfortable isn’t it?”

“Quite. Can you come closer?” Despite her asking nicely, her hands are literally grabbing his shirt and trying to pull him to her. He moves in and wraps his arm around her shoulder, leaning in to kiss her head.

“You missed all the turbulence by the way.”

“I don’t actually mind turbulence, you know.”

“I do know, considering the last time we went to Ecuador together, you loved the turbulence and said it reminded you of a massage.”

She has a dreamy look in her eye. “I hope there’s more turbulence soon.”

“I was literally sweating, by the way. It’s weird though because I would think that you’d be scared out of your wits about a plane shaking in midair.”

Lucía’s eyes refocus. “Wait, don’t say it like that.”

He smiles and leans down, pressing his forehead against hers, pulling her closer. “You wanna sleep some more?”

“Mhmm.” She throws an arm over his torso and sighs softly. “The air conditioning is making it too cold.”

He tucks the blanket under her chin. “That better?”

“Yes.” She tilts her head up. “Gonna sleep too?”

“I’ll try, yeah.”

“Are you excited to be in Ecuador?”

She’s asked him this more times that he’s been able to count over the past week, looking up at him so cute, it breaks his heart. “I am so so excited,” he answers truthfully, leaning down again to kiss her softly. “Especially since I’ll be with you.”

“Don’t do that. You know I love you even more when I’m falling asleep.” She closes her eyes and lets Harry kiss her once more. “Goodnight.”

Harry leans over her and pulls down the window shade. The sun is beginning to rise and if Lucía’s going to sleep for some more time, the light will soon bother her. Harry slides his arm away from her shoulder to avoid pins and needles, and lets her nuzzle his neck instead, grasping his arm to her chest closely.

This vacation is exactly what Lucía needs. Every year, she goes to visit her mother, and this is the first time since their breakup that Harry’s tagging along.

And despite Lucía’s insistence that her mother really really does not hate him, he can’t help but be a little nervous to visit her. But her mother knows he’s coming too, so at least the element of shock isn’t all there.

When they land, one of Lucía’s cousins is there to pick them up. Harry’s met her before, and falls into conversation easily with her. He’s holding Lucía’s hand, enjoying the way her eyes light up as she gazes out the street. The airport isn’t far from her mother’s house, and this he knows because whenever he’s visiting, the sound of planes wake him up at night.

Turns out, all his worrying about her mother not liking him is proven useless when she brings him in for a tight hug and exclaims, “Oh, Harry, look at you! Divorce has made you even more handsome than before!”

Lucía gasps, horrified. “Mama! Don’t say that!”

“It’s okay,” Harry laughs, hugging her back. “My father makes those jokes all the time. And none of them ever call me handsome.”

Her mother pulls away and holds his face firmly, giving him a shake. “Look at him, Lucía. A real man now. You were just a boy before.”

“A boy in my mid 20's, yes.”

“And time has brought the two of you together again.”

“Something like that.”

“This time, don’t worry. I won’t set you up in separate rooms.”

Her mother always did, though it didn’t really do much when Lucía would sleepily open the door to his room in the middle of the night and tuck herself into his bed. “Oh really?” Lucía says, taking her suitcase with her upstairs. She drags it on the stairs until Harry takes it from her and easily lifts it up. “Why’s that?”

“Well, it’s clear to me that this thing between you guys is serious. As serious as marriage I’d say.” Her mother does in fact say it so casually, Harry nearly misses a step he trails after them.

“Marriage,” Lucía says, laughing nervously, glancing at Harry. “Not sure that’s the next step.”

Lucía’s mother is smiling when they reach their room. “I’m only kidding. Wanted to see that look on Harry's face, that’s all.”

Harry looks around, confused. “What look?” 

“Oh, you are so cute, Harry. Maybe still like a boy. But no, don’t worry. It's because I knew you guys had to sneak around last time so I thought I’d make it easier for you.”

“Please stop,” Lucía says with her face in her hands. 

As she’s walking out, Lucía’s mother pinches Harry’s cheek. “You can’t hide anything from me. I’ll let you unpack and rest, but dinner is soon, okay? Good.” And then she shuts the door, leaving Harry and Lucía reeling.

When they meet eyes, Lucía is the first to break into laughter, clasping a hand over her mouth. He strides across the distance and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her down with him as he crashes onto the bed.

“How embarrassing,” he groans.

“It’s so embarrassing!” she giggles. “You know, I never would bring my boyfriends to see my parents even when I lived in Ecuador. I always thought it was weird because they would be interacting with a person that I kissed!”

“I know exactly what you mean. It’s like how embarrassing it is to kiss your wife when you’re getting married.”

Lucía turns and kisses him. “I cannot relate to that.”

“Let's get married and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Her stomach erupts in butterflies. “Don’t joke about that, mi amor,” she whispers.

“You did!”

“It’s different when I do it.”

“But I admit,” he says, not arguing with her logic, “that kissing her even around people when we were married was weird. Now, I don’t seem to mind it with you.” Harry twirls a curl of her hair around his finger and tugs gently. “You’re special, Lucie.”

“You don’t mind PDA anymore, I’ve noticed.”

“I will kiss you whenever I want to.” He pulls her in swiftly and kisses her again. “Let’s just hope there’s a lock on this door now.”

“A lock?” she snickers, moving back. She looks at his tired face and bright eyes. “There are no locks in this house, I hope you know. Aside from the bathrooms. My mother is very much a barge-in type of person.”

“And I, as you know, am very much a sleep-nearly-naked type of person.”

“Oh I do very much know that.”

“See, now that you mentioned the no lock thing, I’m a bit worried about your mother popping up out of nowhere. She’s the type to do that.”

“She’s in an exceptionally good mood, isn’t she?”’

Harry hesitates. “I wouldn't exactly know what type of mood she is usually in given I haven’t known her for the past two years.”

“Well, I will say that she has been very sad and moody, which, given the situation, has been very understandable.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I mean, her daughter calls her crying nearly every day–”

Harry groans, dropping his head to her shoulder, hugging her to his chest tight. “You love doing that to me! So unfair!”

Lucía laughs. “I’m kidding! But now that we’re talking about her mood, I have long suspected that the next door neighbor that moved in a few months ago has definitely raised her spirits.”

Harry lifts his head. “Yeah? She’s made a new friend?”

“Oh yes,” Lucía says, squishing Harry’s face. “A gentleman friend.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Yup.”

“And…. how does she feel about that?”

“Well, we should make it a mission to get her to talk about it.” Lucía’s eyes are alight with mischief which makes Harry lean in and kiss her hard again.

When he’s done, he murmurs, “Did you not talk to her about it over the phone?”

“That’s where my suspicions came from,” she says, licking her bottom lip. “She avoided the topic every time.”

“Suspicious.”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe we can go on a double date.”

“I don't think my mom would go on a date with him, but I definitely think she finds him charming. Plus, he’s divorced, which is basically the jackpot.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because,” she says in a voice that makes him think it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If he were single at that age just because that would be really weird, and if he had a dead spouse, that would be a lot of baggage. Which, I know my mother had, but I think she’s handling it fine.”

“Mm.” Harry kisses her cheek a final time before shuffling off of her and fixing his hair. “The jackpot indeed.”

“Precisely.”

“Well, for the next two weeks, all we have to do is get your mom and him in the same room as much as possible.”

“And then we can lock them in.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t be a very good wingman, Luce.”

“Okay, fine. When they're all caught up in each other, we can sneak away.”

Harry laughs. “Sneak away,” he repeats. “We’re nearly 30, you know.”

“I know that. But nothing is conventional about us anyways so we may as well be treated like teenagers, I mean, some of us can't even be trusted to manage a marriage for more than 6 months–”

“It was 8 months before I suspected anything, thank you very much,” Harry says, eyes narrowed with amusement. “And I’m so relieved that my girlfriend can make jokes about it too now.”

“It’s either that or I call my mother crying.”

“Are these the only options I have?”

“Yes.”

“My goodness, Luce.” He kisses her head. “I’m so lucky.”

She giggles and then sits up, reaching for her suitcase to begin unpacking. They manage to get a fourth of the way done before Harry falls onto the bed, too tired to move a single muscle. He feels Lucía tuck him in and then close the door behind her as she leaves.

To Harry’s surprise, Lucía is actually unable to rest between now and dinner since she’s slept so much on the plane. He, however, falls asleep almost instantly, and sleeps for several hours, completely missing dinner.

He wakes some time in the middle of the night with Lucía curled up next to him, wide awake.

“The time difference,” she murmurs, snuggling into his chest. “You slept for so long.”

“Yeah.” His voice is rough with sleep. He draws her closer and moves down, laying his head on her stomach. “I was so tired.”

She smiles and gently smoothes his long hair down. “We’ll have to get an early start for our day.” She lifts her head up and looks at the digital clock on the side table. “In 4 hours.”

“Got it.” He’s feeling refreshed, not needing extra time to wake up properly. The sight of the clock makes him realize that he’s yet to see a clock on the wall. He imagines Lucía taking them all down. Or perhaps they were never up. He decides to ask.

“Have the clocks never been on the walls?”

“Hm? Oh. My dad took them all down when I was 9. I couldn’t stand them.”

“I see.”

“And they never put them back up even after I left.” She sighs softly. “I want my mom to come live in Boston. I don’t like that she’s all alone here. Before, she wasn’t because of my dad, but after he got sick, I started thinking about it. I mean, dad was really sick, and I think both of us kind of knew that we were reaching the end. But Mama insisted on staying until then.”

“What of her gentleman neighbor then?”

“I’ll bring him too.” She’s smiling. “And besides, it’s not like it’s an overnight thing. Visas take years.”

“True.”

“And I want her to be closer to me, just in case.”

Harry knows what he means even without her explicitly saying it.

“Of course.”

“And honestly coming to Ecuador every year is really expensive.”

Harry laughs, lifting himself off of her. He lays back on his own pillow. The early morning birds outside are very loud, as if some are perched right outside their windows. “It really is, especially during the summer.”

“And you know I can’t control myself when it comes to shopping here.”

“Oh trust me, I know that. We were barely making the weight requirements last time.”

“Yup.”

“But tomorrow we’re going to the beach right?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing to buy there.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Lucía.”

“Don’t full name me.”

Harry laughs. “But hey, you’ll be my tour guide, right?”

“You’ve been here enough times to not need a tour guide.”

“I’ve been here three times, and I very much need someone holding my hand.”

Lucía kisses his neck softly. “I will happily hold your hand and not only because everyone stares at you when you’re here because you’re super hot.”

“You are so romantic this morning,” Harry murmurs, humor in his voice. “Too bad you’re not like this when you’re getting ready for work. I’m almost scared to approach you when you get all zombie-like.”

Lucía closes her eyes. “The first time I stayed over at your apartment was such a disaster, you know? Almost thought about breaking up with you over the spicy avocado toast you made me.”

Harry laughs. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“You were just way too happy for eight in the morning.”

“I’ve gotta ask now. How many times have you seriously considered ending things with me?”

She smiles, tucking her face into his neck. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Wow. More than ten times?”

“Shhh. Does it really matter since I only actually broke up with you once?”

Harry gently runs his fingers through her hair, shoulders shaking with laughter. “A divorce joke and a break up joke? Within 24 hours? I’m worried.”

“I’m a healed woman, don’t you know?”

He kisses her face. “My mistake.”

“You must be so hungry.”

“Absolutely starving and in desperate need of a shower.”

She pushes herself up, leaning back on her elbows. “I’ll make you something.”

He rubs his eyes. “Are you sure? Want some help?”

When he opens his eyes, she’s shaking her head, already heading to the door. “No. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty awake, I can totally–”

“Hey, you’re the guest.”

Harry laughs. “Aren’t you a guest too, kinda?”

“Shush. Stay here.”

He nods and stays back, letting her disappear from his sight. It takes some time, but Lucía returns with food, snuggling into bed, and then watches him eat as if it’s the most normal thing. 

And in that moment, it absolutely feels normal.

***

Harry has absolutely no idea what Luce turns into when they head down to the beach, but if he were to describe her as something close, it would be a possessive gremlin. And he loves his sweet girl very much, but it’s like he doesn’t even recognize her.

Currently, Harry can see her staring at him from the corner of his eye. She’s right next to him, and they both are very aware of the waitress flirting with him. She’d been in such a good mood, dragging him over to the outdoor bar, but now…

The waitress has brought Harry a larger size drink than asked, and told him that it’s on the house. She’s also been hanging around for a moment too long asking about what it's like to live in Boston and work his job (and though those are very boring topics, Harry’s way of vague and short answers are not getting through to the waitress).

Lucía takes the matters into her own hands when the waitress turns the conversation to how long he’s staying there. “We,” she interjects, ignoring the way Harry’s trying to hide his knowing smile, “are staying at my mother’s house actually. We’re looking at wedding venues for us.”

The waitress blinks, “Oh, a wedding. How wonderful.”

“Yes,” Luce says, leaning into Harry’s shoulder. “We’re very excited.”

The waitress looks at Harry and then Luce. “Oh, right. Well, I’ll leave you both to your drinks then. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

She leaves after that, and Harry glances down at his girlfriend. “Absolute gremlin.”

“She wasn’t getting the hint!”

“Was the marriage part supposed to freak me out?”

Luce rolls her eyes, picking her head off of him. “I was making a statement.”

“And a statement it was. It could have been anything, you know? A baby shower for a relative, an anniversary, a birthday, a–”

Luce crosses her arms. “What are you trying to say?”

Harry holds her chin. “That you’re dying to marry me.”

She shrugs him off. “Whatever.”

“If you want a ring, baby, you just have to say the word.”

“Go away.”

“I can’t. I think if I get up, a flock of people will come to me and steal me away from you.” When Lucía looks murderous, Harry says, “But of course I’d reject every single one of them.”

“Not funny,” she says, reaching for his drink. “I want half of this.”

“Sure. Want me to get another glass?”

“Yes.”

Harry grins and raises his hand to flag the waitress down again, but Luce gasps and grabs his wrist. “No. It’s okay. I can just share with you.”

He looks at her innocently. “You’re so cute.”

She doesn’t answer, drinking silently.

But this isn’t the only time Harry’s caught by someone. When they’re laying on the sand, their umbrella over them as shade, Harry suddenly complains about the sand being too hot despite their towel, so Lucía tells him to go buy a towel from one of the shops. He leaves, but she realizes that he’s taking too much time to come back after 15 minutes have passed, and she peeks over to find Harry in another conversation with the counter person.

Harry’s halfway out the shop when he makes eye contact with Lucía, and he throws his head back and laughs. She gets it: he looks really good with his shirt off and his tattoos and his black sunglasses and his super hot British accent that’s kind of melting away into American territory, but still! 

He fixes another towel over theirs and lays down. “It’s really not my fault.”

“I know,” she says. She shuffles closer and puts her head on his butterfly tattoo. “You’re just too hot.”

“I think it’s the accent.” He puts a hand on her jaw, caressing her warm skin.

“You should start every conversation with ‘Sorry, I have a girlfriend’.”

“Luce, you’re never this possessive when we’re back home.”

She turns her head, looking up at him. “I don’t know what happens to me when we come here. It’s like I want everyone to know that you’re only mine.”

Harry’s eyes darken a little. “I understand. I don’t particularly like it when people get all flirty with you. I think the thing that eases it a bit for me is that I know you can’t flirt to save your life, and I’m pretty sure you don’t even realize it when you’re getting hit on.”

She gasps. “I know how to flirt!”

“You do, but only with me.”

“That’s not true! I’m such a good flirt! And I do have flirt radars!”

“Luce, the customs officer asked if you were single.”

“He wanted to know if I was traveling alone or not!”

“I was literally right behind you.”

She blinks. “Oh, right.”

“See?” He caresses her cheek again, lovingly. “Sometimes I wonder how you dated before you met me on an app.”

She thinks back to it. “Well, my college boyfriend was the result of a game of Spin The Bottle. We kissed and then we were like huh okay cool we’ll keep doing that.”

“Of course he was. And before that?”

“Um, before that, my high school boyfriend asked me out over text.”

“Right.”

She frowns. “But I know how to flirt with you!”

“You do. And it’s adorable every time.”

She sits up, looming over him. “Adorable? It’s supposed to be hot.”

He looks up at her innocently. “It’s hot at times. It’s just that…” He tucks her hair behind her ear. “You’re so sweet. And your eyes are so pretty. And your smile is so perfect. It’s all so cute. But, I will say that it’s really sexy when you come on to me first.”

“I totally come on to you a lot.”

He hums. “I wouldn’t say a lot…”

“I think that I have the intention of coming on to you, but you see it as something else. Like when you said you were going to shower this morning and I offered to come with you.”

Harry blinks. “You were coming on to me? I thought you just wanted to show me how the new faucets worked.”

Lucía scowls. “I had sexy intentions!”

“Well, I didn’t know that!”

“How about the way I literally followed you into the bathroom?”

“I thought you were just being clingy! You are always a little extra needy in the mornings.”

“Being clingy can be sexy!”

Harry suddenly laughs, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry. I really just thought you were helping me out.”

“It was both!”

“So you were going to help me with the faucets!”

“And shower with you too!” She takes his wrist and pushes it off his face. “It’s sexy and helpful.”

Harry half sits up and kisses her softly. “I believe you.” He’s smiling against her mouth when she throws her arms around him and kisses him harder. “I’m sorry. I will try my best to be aware next time you’re coming onto me.”

“Good,” she answers, laying back down. She still has her arms around him, clinging to him. He holds her tightly, letting her press kisses to his face. She’s insatiable for some reason, spending a lot of time kissing his cheek and clean shaved jaw. Perhaps it’s all the pent up jealousy getting to her. She seems really into it right now so he decides to make fun of her for it later.

A while later, she says, “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too, green-eyed monster girlfriend of mine.” He gently knocks his head against hers. “Or should I say fiancée?”

She hugs him tighter. “So much wedding talk.”

“Let a man recover from his first.”

He hears the smile in her voice. “You recovered in my apartment, if you recall.”

Harry sighs playfully. “I did go running back to you didn’t I?”

“A few years too late, but yes.” She slowly loosens her arm and slides down his torso again, laying back on his butterfly tattoo. “But everything worked out.”

His hand returns to her cheek. “It worked out perfectly, Lucie.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a moment, before she says, “I love when you call me that.”

 “Good thing I love calling you that,” he answers softly. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, smiling to himself.

Harry is ready to make this vacation the best ever, even if that means letting Lucía drag him away from women who want to flirt with him, and locking her mother in a room with her neighbor. Because after everything, it’s what she deserves. If he could give her the world, he would.

And maybe when they’re back home, they can have a more serious talk about that whole wedding thing. It may be too early to call it, but Harry knows that he’s either marrying this woman or nobody at all. Despite them not having talked about it, Harry knows that she feels the same way.

In the meantime, this is enough: this tiny happiness, away from their worries in a beautiful place, with nothing but love on their minds.

[attorneys-against-court-violence]

Spoilers under the cutoff because there is no way I'm jumpscaring ya'll with the biggest gut-punch in the game. Also I'm pretty sure it'd be taller than me if printed out so bare with me!

I'm going to be talking about a very important section in Case 5-5: Turnabout for Tomorrow...

...because good god almighty, can we talk about how GOOD Simon's Mood Matrix segment is?!

Pretense: Facing Your Fears

Let's set the stage for Simon and Athena before we build to what I want to talk about. Context is important and in this case it helps make the following revelations that much more effective.

Both characters at this point have gone through hell and high water to save the other from a dreadful fate; Simon enduring 7 years on death-row to protect Athena from punishment for Metis' death, Athena studying law in spite of her intense fear and trauma to undo the damage done by his false confession. By the time we get here we've seen how deeply Athena is affected by her trauma. We've seen how far Simon is willing to go in the name of protecting Athena, going so far as to disregard his own sister's concern for his safety.

By the time of Turnabout for Tomorrow's trial, they have practically been pushed to their breaking points; Athena is indicted for Clay's murder and is confronted with the idea that she herself is responsible for the death of her mother - her memories of UR-1 resurfacing and being pushed back at the same time as the worst-case scenario becomes apparent. Simon's efforts to save Athena from this punishment have been rendered practically useless with her incarceration, the phantom slipping from his grasp, the guilt Athena would bear being the only thing he stands to protect her from.

At the end of Phoenix and Edgeworth's initial skirmish and seeming Guilty verdict, Simon steps in with one last effort to protect Athena's innocence in this matter. Even though she's set to be convicted for Clay's murder, this carries a lot more weight if ever she realised what he saw that day would prove her guilty of killing Metis Cykes.

Athena - despite a practical mental breakdown earlier that day - pushes herself to stand at the Defense's bench to achieve what she has been working towards from the day Phoenix inspired her to persue this career. She's very much still afraid, still rattled by the accusation Aura had made, stating that she wants to run out of the courtroom as she speaks. Despite this she pushes herself to stand there and ask Simon for the chance to face her worst fears - that of the UR-1 trial and the horrible idea that she could be guilty herself - by letting her reveal his true emotions.

Simon accepts, confident that his prowess in psychology can deflect her efforts, though nevertheless wary of the emotions he has kept under wraps for 7 years. Athena (& Phoenix I guess...) slowly dismantle his testimony in full-knowledge that he is lying for a reason - one that could potentially destroy her if proven true. Both of them are staring down the worst-case scenario for each other and trying desperately to keep the other away from that event.

Let's go over that testimony then, shall we? I'll go through it section by section.

Part 1: The False Confession

Simon's lie relies on people seeing him as a heartless killer. We see him build and reinforce that image in his trials, acting as beligerently and violently as he can muster without causing any real damage. By this point he's already slashed at & sicked his bird on just about everyone who's ever stood in court, save for Bobby Fulbright. He's had to be shocked by him just to stop.

Suffice to say it was pretty effective since it took a hostage situation to convince officials to give UR-1 a re-trial (even after the HAT-2 bombing implied that the crimes that day were purpetrated by another party).

To this end, he brought out every trick in the book to keep his true memories on the event at bay from prying eyes; his closed-off nature, his mastery of psychology, his training with blade and hawk alike, his time in prison exposed to the worst humanity had to offer. All of these were ample tools in ensuring that his image is not broken.

His anger and joy regarding his false murder are almost complete lies. At best, he's enraged that such a thing happened at all and glad that his scheme had worked to protect Athena. The phantom later on demonstrates that people can indeed fake their emotions, though some genuine feeling will slip through the cracks if you try.

Enter Athena. Not only does she have a keen ear for one's tone, she has studied psychology and put her mind towards applying her talent to the coutroom. Her Mood Matrix program makes what she hears apparent to even the least informed person and she's already cracked a good number of testimonies with this power (well, two in 5-3 since Apollo and Phoenix did all the others, though they couldn't have without her explaining things).

For most people, Simon's anger would overshadow the relief he felt when he found Athena in the laboratory. Just enough to keep his lie sound for the untrained ear. That same relief for Athena's safety is weaponised in the next two lines as he talks about how cathartic the act was, cementing his intentions to others.

His relief at Athena's safety did need some explaination - leaning on people's poor perceptions of Metis to help his story along - though aside from that? This testimony is practically impenetrable with only one easily explained oddity that only Athena could have ever picked up on.

As I said however, one's true emotions can't help but leak out. Even the best liars like Simon and the phantom can't help that.

Part 2: A Ronin's Remorse

Only two statements change at this point so those are the only ones I'll show here.

One, he's dropped the anger in the second line to focus on his relief. Before he only mentioned that he found her instead of Metis, using his anger to mask his thoughts as frustration that he had to wait for his plans to go through.

Two, his joy is replaced with intense sadness towards the act of plunging the katana into Metis. There's no mention of catharsis here; only describing what had happened to her. To that, he would feel a great sadness.

Naturally he would grieve Metis, though that would not track with his prior satisfaction with the act. So he leaned on Athena again to explain his emotions, and that does explain things rather cleanly.

Note that this is the only time his Noise Level drops, too. It goes from 100% to 40% here - it's the closest he's willing to get to how he truly felt about the event without giving the game away. Any closer and he would start revealing emotions that do not match his words in the slightest.

Part 3: Brief Shock

His noise level rises to 60% here, so the emotions displayed are less accurate to how he truly felt. Although his tale of grand homicide has shifted somewhat...

Now, his concern at the beginning wasn't killing Dr Cykes to rescue Athena; he entered the room because he heard that Athena was upset in the other room while looking for her in the Psychology Lab.

How true it is that Athena was crying at that moment is debatable given future revelations, though nothing's contradictary about this section. Perhaps at this point she hadn't thought to put Metis on the repair table having only just woken up, reacting much like any child would at the sight of her mother's body before the idea crossed her mind. We do have an hour's gap between Metis' death and Simon leaving the lab, after all.

In any case, Simon's relief has turned to shock in the moment he finds Athena in the Robotics Lab. Any mention of Athena at this stage is long gone - he only talks about his hurry to the Robotics Lab. It isn't clear what he would be so shocked by at this stage. Most anyone would know, not much was out of the ordinary when he walked into the room.

Look at how he hesitates before arriving at this explaination. His words are a lot shakier than they were for prior testimony, the excuse he gives a blatant lie to cover his tracks. The noise level goes up again with this as well, from 60% to a full 100%; Simon has completely obscured the events he witnessed once again.

This was the closest Athena and Phoenix got to poking at what he really saw in the lab and it clearly rattled him. Before, his reasoning was sound. Now, we're left wondering what he actually saw in there to result in that much shock...

Part 4: The Blade of Evidence

Unfortunately, this is where the Mood Matrix becomes useless. Simon has explained his contradictory emotions deftly up to this point; his relief at Athena's wellbeing, his grief at the loss of Metis Cykes, his surprise upon entering the lab. In stark contrast to a good few people subjected to Athena's therapy, Simon is the only one in the game that completely evades her attack. He knows how she operates & is well-versed in analytical psychology himself which shows in just how reasonable his explainations are up to this point.

But stacking lies upon lies only gets you so far until it begins to contradict the one thing he can't re-interpret; evidence.

This is the only time he takes damage during his entire time on the stand. When his words no longer match what is physically verifiable, there is no recourse - his psychological prowess cannot disprove cold, hard facts. Just as Athena's abilities cannot be used as hard proof, rather requiring proof in and of itself (usually in the form of a confession from the witness).

Simon can no longer lie about what it is he saw in the lab that day. There are no avenues through which he can explain his shock and by now Athena & Phoenix have dug through his thoughts quite extensively. With that decisive cut they've managed to open Simon to one last attack...

...saldy, by opening one of his deepest, most painful wounds.

Part 5: That Terrible Scene

By this point it's clear everyone is getting much more than they bargained for. Simon's shock was only the tip of the iceberg; a raging storm of emotions had been hidden from earshot for 7 long years, far away from even Athena's keen ears.

The fact she's surprised that Simon has been carrying this for so long shows just how early he's managed to keep this under a lid, that he's had to hide it from young Athena as well (who's hearing was much more sensitive than now).

Athena herself has managed to endure the sound of people's hearts this entire time, in stark contrast to when being around people too long made her dizzy to the point of needing headphones. We've only seen two emotions at most go overboard at once with Marlon Rimes and she managed just fine with that noise - the grief and anger associated with the loss of his lover Azura Summers (at that point her empathy is the only thing that really shows). Simon is different. He feels everything all at once with such intensity that it pains Athena to hear for the first time since her debut. It changes the Mood Matrix screen we see here to purple for the first time that wasn't her demonstrating something to her co-workers (see Yuri Cosmos' MM sequence). Beyond volume and intensity of emotion, the fact that the person she cared so much for as to practice law to save from death row is experiencing so much mental anguish himself is distressing. Something terrible happened that day. It shook the ever-stoic Simon into a state not seen in even the most wild witness so far. He's hidden it for Athena's sake this entire time, but... why?

He's intentionally vague about it this time, compared to his more detailed accounts of the events. "That terrible scene!" leaves a lot to the imagination and nothing that comes to mind is comforting.

We all know why Athena's the defendant in this trial; Aura thinks she killed Metis Cykes that day. Edgeworth supports her theory through evidence that even Phoenix can't counter up to this point. Simon intervened in order to stop their efforts to indict her by lying about what happened that day.

Lying about... what, exactly, is the most concerning question. At this point the only two plausible explainations are that either Simon or Athena had done it. Savvier players might remember that Clonco stops by for a recharge at 2PM, same time as the crime, though Simon and Athena left the room at 3PM. There's a SMALL chance that what he saw could contradict what's been posited so far, though chances aren't looking great.

Also note that his line "I had no choice but to kill my mentor!" has gotten shorter. No mention of not wanting to hand Athena over. Just declaring in sheer hysteria that he did it and had no choice but to do it.

Simon is in a panic. Athena is reeling from her old friend's inner turmoil. No one is quite sure if what's about to be revealed will be in their favour.

He's very obviously concerned with Athena first and foremost; this entire act goes against even his own sister's wants, after all. That's where the centre of his most complex emotions lie.

And what do we find at the eye of the storm?

Part 6: Fixing Her Mother

Dr Cykes was already dead. Athena stood before her body on the repair table, bloody katana not too far away from her. She's covered in blood and no doubt in shock, but otherwise safe and sound.

Then Simon drops the bombshell; Athena looked at him with this look on her face and told him the following:

So.

Allow me to impart how gut-wrenching this entire sequence is.

On its own, it's already dark as dark can be. A smiling, dead-eyed little girl covered in blood is a sight to shake the hardiest to their core (the suspension of disbelief not withstanding - this is a cartoon depiction). I'm not the biggest fan of how Dual Destinies tends to jump between 3D and 2D anime but it can work. And boy does this work.

In context, this is Athena looking at Simon when he finds her mother Metis dead on the repair table. There's a bloody katana right by her and a stab wound on Metis. Athena has her mothers blood on her. She's smiling. Completely detatched from what is going on around her while looking Simon dead in the eye, telling him that she's about to take her mother apart to "fix" her.

Simon is in a whirlwind of emotions over this; grief at his mentor's death and for Athena's loss, relief that she's alive and well, furious that Metis had been murdered, and shocked that not only that this happened, not only that it seemingly happened because of her daughter... but that she's smiling as she's telling him the most horrific thing he could hear after seeing all of this.

Although. Simon isn't the only one Athena is looking at in this image.

She's also looking at herself. Her older self, the one that's just been told she killed her mother and how she intended to "fix" the situation.

Athena has not processed what happened that day by this point - her memories are still tucked away behind 5 Black Psyche Locks as a truth even she isn't aware of. Some parts of that memory come back to her here; the memory of stabbing someone with a blade, telling Simon she's going to "fix" Metis... but nothing more. The phantom is still hidden away from view. So the only logical conclusion she can come to at this point is that she did kill her mother that day.

She processes all of that while looking at herself, dead in the eye, covered in her mother's blood and smiling as if nothing's wrong.

She's looking back at the most innocent form of herself during the single worst event in her life. And she's smiling back at her.

Even better, she's looking at YOU. The player. Taking all of these dreadful things in while you and Athena are forced to witness something that shook SIMON SODDING BLACKQUILL to his core, before Athena finally breaks and screams in a combination of denial and anguish that her worst fear had come to light.

It's only worse when Simon explains that Metis Cykes truly did love Athena. Everything that she had done - especially the headphones Athena hated oh so much - was done to help her lead a normal life in spite of her condition. Simon, being well attuned to the needs and motivations of others, picked up on this and saw the Cykes for more than what they appeared. He did not want to believe that Athena would so callously kill her mother and rip her apart on her own machine. Without any evidence to prove the contrary, he took the fall to save her from guilt he saw as unjust. It had to be some kind of mistake... right?

Athena, on top of reliving UR-1 under the worst possible context, is practically frozen in her shivering pose the entire time. Without any evidence to the contrary, she has no reason to believe it wasn't her. Her faith in herself has completely shattered at this point. She was brave in wanting to confront the truth Simon had hidden all these years - especially after what Aura said while she was in the Detention Centre. Unfortunately it only revealed the worst for both characters; Simon's drive to protect Metis' daughter had been for naught, and Athena now has to live with the knowledge that in the abscence of decisive evidence, she had set every terrible thing that happened to the her, Simon, and Aura in motion 7 years ago.

I could nark about Phoenix's involvement here. How he steals much of Athena's thunder and how she would have been more fitting to point out the flaws in Simon's testimony, perhaps even showing some growth as a standard evidence-presenting lawyer through disproving the Ponco explaination. I do wish he was written and utilised better, though I completely understand why Athena specifically is out of commission for this part of the re-trial, especially immediately after Aura and Simon's revelations about her part in UR-1.

The trauma Athena experienced has a significant affect on her throughout DD and she's shown that enough pressure being built on her is enough to shut her down completely. UR-1 itself is horrific enough to warrent such a total shutdown in the times it occurs - specifically in regards to not being able to save a friend from a false conviction. The game does a good job in building up to and justifying her reactions. Having her truck on in spite of this is very much in the Athena spirit but there's a clear breaking point; going past that would reduce the impact significantly.

I do still think it would have been more effective for her to pick apart Simon's testimony though. You can't have your faux-protagonist make a big hoo-ha about being given a chance and then hand the steering-wheel to the guy who only learned of Simon's situation THAT SAME DAY-

Ahem. Sorry about that.

My gripes aside, this is a very effective and powerful sequence that makes the triumph later on all the more impactful. This struggle between two people trying to save the other, briefly falling into the darkest moment of both their lives, then somehow coming back from it is the main reason I cried over Simon thanking Athena while she finally let loose those tears of joy.

Dual Destinies can be amazing when it isn't being stupid, you know?

[levmada]

//afab!reader, subby!Levi, edging, praise, mommy kink, crying, dumbification, bondage (blindfold, spreader, cuffs), ass play

It���s gotten to this point.

Only the sound of the headboard above Levi’s head creaking makes him realize he’s straining the ropes binding his wrists. But he can’t remember to stop for long, can’t stop his head from tossing side to side—he can’t contain the tension any longer. And that’s what he thought an hour ago.

The blindfold blankets his vision in constant darkness. Clueless as to when or where you’re going to touch his body, as wound up as a live wire, leaves his insides light with anticipation.

That’s more intense by itself, but this pales in comparison. With each release you edge him to the brink of, he prays that there must be a limit, only to be proven wrong again and again.

No matter that you gently push his pecs together and spread them apart or draw a teasing finger up his inner thigh, he arches into your warm hands and leans his thigh—not getting far, however, with the leather hugging his ankles bracing the metal bar in place, forcing his legs wide open at all times.

He makes a small whine of frustration when the metal bar doesn’t give, hooking his teeth into his raw bottom lip. Your fist, closed around his sticky tip, remains firm but motionless. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple.

“Ah fuck—”

He hisses through his teeth as the three fingers stuffed inside him shift in a movement so slight it shouldn’t even be noticeable. Just like your fist, all you do is inflict firm pressure. If you just rubbed his prostate once, he’s sure he’ll come. His insides uncontrollably quivering around them in a plead for movement is almost too much.

“Please… mommy…” escapes him between shaky panting.

A kiss is pressed to his tip. He gasps, his shaking thighs immediately jerking in attempts to escapes the overwhelming stimulation—for nothing.

“You’ve finally reached your limit, huh, baby.”

Warm breath fans over the crease of his inner thigh and pelvis, plush lips dragging up and down. He mumbles incoherently, weeping just faintly as his cock gives a thick twitch that aches through his whole body.

Those fingers rock properly this time, once.

“ah-hah—fu—plea-please ngh…”

“if you want to come, use your words,” you croon. “Do you remember how to talk?”

He chokes on a sob, his head flopping to one side again. “Mommy. Please, m-mommy—h-h—mommy…”

“Mhm?”

The nonchalance in your voice makes more tears bleed through his white blindfold.

“Lemme c-come, mommy, I need to—”

A cry fills his throat as your thumb rubs his slit, back and forth, and his walls pulse.

Just when that sweet release emerges, you take your hand off entirely, leaving him to slump in defeat. It’s no use. His heaving chest wracks as he starts to break down.

And it actually hurts this time. His toes curl, teeth grit as his cock twitches in quick succession. His tip leaks again, and drips down his shaft. He doesn’t hear himself mumbling or that it’s not even coherent besides mommy.

But he knows you must be watching.

“Shh…”

Your soothing tone is a lie; you work your fingers out of him next. His hips raise slightly, which is as much as he can, but it’s useless, and he’s left with nothing. He’s crying properly now, fracturing his whined mumbling.

“Shh, I’d never leave you like this. You’ve been such a good boy. Letting me hear that pretty voice of yours so much…”

Your sweaty palm grazes his cheek, touch his whole head falls into. Please has fallen from his lips so many times that it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.

“Don’t move.”

He stiffens as much as possible, but his thighs can't stop trembling.

The bed lightly creaks, then your knees fall to rest outside his hips. Enticing heat off your inner thighs ghosts his navel, but you aren't even sitting down.

But he doesn't arch his back; he remains still, like a good boy.

“Stay like this until mommy says.” Your palms slide up his slim waist, flicking his sore nipples.

He inhales sharply through his teeth, his fists painfully clenching, crying, “Please please please please…”

“Oh, you’re so cute...”

You grasp the base of his cock.

Tight, slick heat slides onto his sensitive cock, your tight delicious fucking pussy, and quivers around it, clinging to it, so wet that there's a squelch when your pussylips collide with his balls.

A shameless moan he didn’t even think his voice was capable of seizes his chest, head falling back. It strains deep inside you, being massaged by the maddening heat of your body like your cunt wants him to come in it just as much as he needs to. You groan, gently.

“I’m gonna come I can’t”—he cries out in utter misery—“I’m—can’t, mommy, mm—”

“Fuck me, baby—”

You don't finish before he cries out so gutturally that his voice breaks. Even his shaking stutters to a brief halt when his balls throb—pleasure impossible to contain inside his body, vision flashing. His orgasm burns through his veins like lit kerosine. His hips raise off the bed as he deliriously ruts, sweaty skin roughly slapping. A groan explodes out of his chest. You're forced to seize support from his shoulders that he doesn't notice as he fucks thick cum deep inside the heat of your cunt, between eager twitches of his cock.