#and I can’t fucking do anything bc I’m afraid to sit

[doctormage]

ok genuine question I am having an Actual Fucking Panic Attack bc of a fucked up spider encounter and I can’t stop obsessively patting down my body & shaking out my hair & walking around checking all the ceilings & im afraid to sit anywhere in my house bc I’m convinced it’s gonna happen again but worse so like does anyone??? with a phobia like this have any tips???? to be normal????? I have to lead a meeting in less than an hour and I am fully hyperventilating and sobbing LMAO

[comradekatara]

okay, so I did just spend the entire day watching NATLA. I had no choice but to watch this all in one sitting with my friends because I knew that if I attempted to watch it alone, or in increments, I would simply never get past episode 1. and I was right. it, of course, sucked so bad. I intend to write an actual, articulate review of the show as a whole when I have time, but for now, here is a list of the notes I jotted down on my phone (including some quotes from my friends as we watched), cinema sins style (pluses indicate details I actually liked, however minuses are far more frequent; points I considered especially significant are bolded).

– NO COLON to signify the central tension of the entire show!!!

Episode 1:

+ Love Aang’s eyebrows, just a very cute kid in general

+ opening fight scene kind of serves

– Sozin does NOT

– This clunky exposition is so strange considering they clearly already assume we are familiar with the entire show

– What’s going on with Kyoshi (ie, where is Roku)

– Where is Katara narrating????

– Hideous fonts

+ AANG SO CUTE <3 (he’s giving Dewey!)

– He can just fucking fly without his glider I guess?

– Airbenders saying wow at airbending (ding!)

– Aang’s uggs

– Sky bison…… L (update: I lowkey came around on Appa, but only bc Momo was so fucking busted he looked incredible by contrast)

– Gyatso’s mustache L (update: many such cases going forward)

– What’s going on with the accents???

– Aang cannot fucking act for shit I’m so sorry to this adorable baby boy

– Depicting a literal genocide as an action scene. Fucking awful

– Aang actually trying to head back during the storm defeats the whole point of the whole inciting incident of his entire arc????

+ Waterbending Avatar State sequence in the storm actually looks cool

– I hate White Sokka

– I hate shein Katara

– They do NOT act like siblings

– I hate White Sokka

– Where is Katara I miss you baby girl

– ZUKO’S SCAR IS AWFUL

– Katara has no agency or passion or rage or emotion whatsoever?!!?!?

– Acting is SO BAD

+ Clunky exposition works for Zuko because he does have a propensity for monologuing all his intentions

– Sokka, however, does NOT

– How can Sokka be “the last man” of the Southern Water Tribe if there are like. Dozens of other guys only ever so slightly younger than him just standing around.

– Kanna just saying Katara’s monologue because Katara is a nothing

– WHY DO FIREBENDERS KEEP ATTACKING AT NIGHT

– Clunky ass exposition “he had to grow up fast” give me a fucking break

– Who the fuck is this white guy

– Katara has no motivations at all?? She’s just chopped liver I guess

– The cadence of every actor is so bad

– They can’t decide whether they want to be the cartoon or their own thing and instead they’re just nothing

Episode 2:

– KANNA JUST GIVES HER THE SCROLL?!?!? KATARA DOESNT GET TO SHOPLIFT. OR DO ANYTHING

– MILF ALERT!!!!

– I hate you straight nepobaby suki

– She’s so fucking weird

– White Sokka has a bad face and a good body. He should have a strikingly beautiful face and a scrawny, malnourished body. L

– Aang being afraid to airbend makes no sense

– Where is Sokka’s fucking Kyoshi Warrior feminization!!!!

– Sexist ass show

– STOP IT KYOSHI STOOOOPPPPP #NotMyKyoshi

Episode 3:

– This one rebel leader guy is giving Katara more than Katara

– Why are the colors so bland

– Sokka being scientifically minded makes no sense bc that trait (which, um, is actually quite crucial to his character) hasn’t actually been established at all up until this point (or retained beyond this one episode)

– This guy is giving jock who happens to be good at engineering, when Sokka should be a NERD who HAPPENS to be good at FIGHTING

– Azula and Mai are NOT GIVING

– Azula should present as sure of herself and incredibly poised. It’s actual crucial to reflecting how she has been shaped by abuse

– And Mai should be razor sharp (both physically and figuratively) and not give a fuck about any of this!!!

+ Katara hitting herself in the face was funny

– Redemption for beautiful Jet (my friend: “I love seeing a beautiful man die”)

– Freedom Fighters are GIVINGGG

– How can Kya “watch the sun rise every day” if they literally live in the South Pole

– They don’t understand Sokka’s daddy issues AT ALL. The simple fact that he’s actually communicating them is egregious

– The first time Katara actually gets angry is for Jet. But not even for the right reasons.

– The first exchange that Katara and Sokka have that makes any sense is in ep THREE (of 8)

– “Sokka was right. You are the bad guy.” WHO WROTE THIS 😭😭

– Jet is only going after the corrupt and collaborators…. So, um… he’s literally right???

+ The fight between Aang and Zuko is actually SO GOOD and understands their dynamic (sidenote: they’re the only kids who are actually giving their original characters at all)

+ Aang reading Zuko’s diary is so fucking funny

+ I love you Danny Pudi <3

Episode 4:

+ I love the interior of Bumi’s palace. Statues of Flopsy

– Omashu is in India now I guess and also everyone in the world lives here

– Bumi’s hat!?!?

+ The nomads sound like Fleet Foxes

– Katara and Sokka are literally switching roles in this tunnel

+ This one Earth Kingdom soldier is really serving.

– The fact that he’s ostensibly framed as in the wrong here though is INSANE

– Zuko is supposed to be ten here 😭 that’s a grown ass man with a BA in Econ

– Sokka’s necklace is plastic

– Katara and Sokka being like “we never used to fight at home” ……. WTF!?!?

– KATARA WOULD NEVER SAY THAT TO SOKKA SHE WOULD BEAT HIS ASS INTO THE GROUND EVEN IF HE WAS RIGHT

– Adults keep being so mean to Aang :((

+ Zuko’s hair is great

+ I like that Bumi gave Aang his bison whistle(?)

– Bumi’s anger is….interesting

Episode 5:

– Canonically 13 year old Zuko is also a grown ass man

– “How was I supposed to know she was a Fire Nation soldier” ummmmmm maybe due to your INSTINCTS and CONSTANT PARANOIA

– They keep alluding to escapades offscreen without actually depicting any of their grounded bonding moments so we have no reason to care about any of these characters whatsoever or their relationships with one another

– Sokka good with kids and names??? Preposterous

– Zuko kinda gay asf

– Zuko calling someone an idiot and Sokka never once does . Sounds fake

– Oppressed peoples are just a mouthpiece for oppression instead of real human beings

– Instragram ass makeup

– Aang isn’t having any fun

– Aang feels like he has no agency whatsoever because he only ever does what the adults around him tell him to do and never does anything of his own accord. Let him have a sillygoofy time!!!

– Constant clunky exposition and no understanding of its own narrative… it’s truly like if ATLA … was LOK.

+ JUUUUNE

– Hitting on Iroh for #feminism

– “I always thought I was spiritually attuned. I don’t know how he got in here though” is actually so Katara. Finally an actual Katara moment

– Wan Shi Tong goofy asf Guardians of Ga’Hoole ass CGI monstrosity

– What is with Sokka’s fucking white people references (all you need is love, bye bye birdie, etc). White devil I need him dead

– Sexy Kitsune for the furries

– Fox accuses him of making jokes to deflect “What? I don’t do that” WELL. HE DOESNT IN THIS VERSION!!! (Alluding to a character trait that they don’t actually depict is crazy. He literally says everything he’s feeling at all times in this and barely ever says anything witty. It’s like they’re TAUNTING us.)

– Kya sounds like she’s from the Upper East Side

– Why won’t they let Katara DO anything!!!

– Too economical with their storytelling leads to no real depth whatsoever

– Putting Katara’s flashback in Book 1 undermines the whole point of TSR

– I HATE YOU WHITE HAKODA

– If Sokka is so bad at ice dodging in this then why did they give him the mark of the wise ??????? None of this scene makes sense

– Why is Sokka CRYING (he doesn’t DO that)

– Koh looks so bad

– Aang doesn’t actually know how to fight Koh he’s just such a wooden actor that he happens to get away with it

– First Roku mention????? Lmfao

– Gyatso talking to Aang is so wack but at least he’s being nice to him

Episode 6 (aka the best episode by far):

+ Zuko just drawing an eye on the page is so real actually

– Azula’s flames aren’t even blue

– And she’s not mysterious or imposing at all!

– I HATE the makeup in the show

– The pacing is AWFUL and STUPID, no consideration as to WHY information is revealed when it is narratively/thematically

+ Okay he’s really giving Zuko lmfao

+ Ken Leung has made Zhao feel like a real person (but no one else is doing that ???)

– Low-budget fantasy C-dramas have costumes one million times better than this.

– What is with Iroh’s obsession with boats

– Quirked up old man Roku

– Zuko flashbacks don’t read as significant because his scar is nothing and he’s the same age

+ Aang and Zhao scene is great

+ I’d follow Zhao into battle

– Other friend: “This is the best episode so far and it’s because Katara and Sokka aren’t in it”

+ Blue Spirit mask actually looks like a theater mask

+ Using the original Blue Spirit theme!!

+ This episode actually slays

– Their commentary on narrativization is solely relegated to Zhao and no one else gets to participate in this thematic conversation, not even KATARA

+ I love the sassy gay scribe

+ LADDERS SCENEEEEE

+ Zuko canonically having good handwriting is so real

+ Aang and Zuko conversation is great

– Why does Aang keep assuming Zuko is compassionate and wounded when he hasn’t displayed any compassion, remorse, or pain

– Iroh stepping into the Agni Kai goes against his whole character

+ Ozai kind of rules tho

– WHY IS ZUKO ACTIVELY FIGHTING OZAI!!!!!!!!

– Zuko’s backstory makes no sense

+ Zuko’s thotty little collarbone

– Ozai’s scene here undermines the whole point of Zuko’s banishment

– Such bad dialogue it’s crazy

– How do the 41st division not know why they’ve been on this boat for the past 3 years when every piece of dialogue in this show is otherwise expository as fuck

– What’s the point of Gyatso leaving. They don’t explain it at all

Episode 7:

– The NWT is so grey and underwhelming. My favorite location in the whole show. Can’t have shit in Netflixworld.

– BECAUSE AANG JUST HAS VISIONS OF THE FUTURE NOW I GUESS

– PAKKU AND YUE LOOK SOOOOO BAD

– Yue looks like a Euphoria character in a party city wig

– This isn’t how Azula fights!!!

– I hate what they’re doing with Azula so bad

– Mai sucks too

– Their journey doesn’t feel earned at all because they didn’t hang out or learn anything or do shit

– Why is Yue in the kitchens if she’s a princess

– And why is she WATERBENDING

– Why isn’t she repressed!!!!! She shouldn’t BE “ordinary”

– Why is Sokka explaining his duties!!!! He doesn’t SAY SHIT!

– Why isn’t the guy playing Hahn playing Sokka and vice versa (I’m so fucking serious)

– YUE’S A FOX????? WHAT

– All the offscreen battles where we’re supposed to assume character development actually happened. Sure.

– Hahn being nice and respectful to Sokka makes no sense

– MILF Yugoda! (How would she know Kanna. Update: I guess that doesn’t even matter here )

– THEY DONT UNDERSTAND YUE OR HAHN OR WHAT PATRIARCHY IS. AT ALL

– Kuruk is too serious and Roku is too playful. It should be the reverse. Playing into racist tropes :/

– His eyes are way too blue I’m sorry to this man

– They all look like they know what iPhones are.

– Yue is so annoying . L

– This whole Yue Sokka scene is the most annoying thing I’ve ever fucking seen in my life. And entirely antithetical to their whole deal

– “My friends” this “my friends” that, except they never actually hang out. They just keep calling each other friends but they never actually show it in a believable way.

– They want to be edgy but they actually never fucking shut up about the power of friendship like we are all five years old. I think when they said they were “appealing to a Game of Thrones audience” what they really meant was just that they are also bad, incredibly misogynistic writers who depict sensitive topics without any care or nuance.

– I actually like the Fire Nation boats

– Zhao is working with Azula??? She wouldn’t KILL THE MOON

– Azula would never ask Ozai to do things she would wait for his command at all times!!!

– Since when is Sokka wise and emotionally mature enough to hold this conversation with Katara, and why isn’t Katara being impulsive. This fight is so planned out; all the excitement is lost.

– Her completely blank expression as Pakku humiliates her. I hate you SHEIN KATARA!!!!!!

– This fight is so dull and lame whereas in the original that fight scene literally changed my life as a kid????? #NotMyKatara

– “The Legend of Aang” EW

– Why isn’t Aang waterbending at all. Book 1: “talking about water in completely abstract, hypothetical terms”

Episode 8:

– Iroh telling Zuko how to break into the North Pole is undermining the one moment where he actually demonstrates his intelligence as an independent person

– Stupid ass liberal feminism I hate you

– So they are sexist but also not. Makes sense

– What the fuck is with this moon backstory shit. Who needed that

– Zhao going to the Fire Temple instead of Wan Shi Tong’s Library for info on the moon completely undermines the point about the role of knowledge in imperialist conquest

– Kuruk looks like a Star Wars force ghost

+ THEY KILLED MOMO (kind of made me laugh a lot, so… points for that I guess)

– But they could only feature him for all of five seconds bc they don’t have the budget to constantly animate his mangy rat ass

– Why is Yue helping MOMO instead of ACTUAL HUMAN BEINGS

– They want me to believe that White Sokka has compassion for that little rat when I simply do not believe that this man cares for anyone or anything or even has a soul.

+ Zuko and Aang’s situationship/chemistry is crazy. They’re both kind of slaying actually

– That said, the kid who plays Aang is not a very good actor, he’s just adorable and has big ears and a Dewey voice. And the kid who plays Zuko has the easiest acting job in the show because Zuko is actually so over the top and dramatic that overacting feels authentic to this one character in particular (and no one else).

– Bending fights look stupid and feel thematically insignificant

– This red filter looks so bad

– Why do they keep dragging out fast paced scenes to explain everything so that they’re now boring af

– Hahn is just……. Okay go off woke feminist king. Sure. Why not

– All the exposition is so clunky and slow and undermining the actual point of the scene

– Not only is this not visually interesting, it also doesn’t translate tonally, and the primary actors can’t pull it off

– So NOW Iroh kills Zhao. Okay

– Zhao wouldn’t respect a teenage girl this much, even if she is the princess

– Koizilla looks bad :(

– RIP Ken Leung the Cunt Slayer. 5ever in our hearts </3

+ It’s actually so funny that Ken Leung apparently didn’t even know what he was auditioning for because he was by far the best actor in this show and nearly singlehandedly redeemed it. I love this guy so much.

– Me: “This isn’t a show. This is a farcical simulacrum of real art.” Friend, far more concisely: “This is a fucking joke.”

– Katara and Sokka barely even seem like they care about each other. Look at how they massacred by boy (and girl)

– Yue and Sokka alluding to fucking offscreen WOULD be a slay if they weren’t both annoying as fuck…

– Oh so NOW Katara talks Aang down from the Avatar State. Yeah. I buy that.

– “You’re not just the Avatar you’re my family” really? Because you’ve barely even talked

– The sequencing and pacing of the Siege of the Noth was nonsensical.

– “My daughter always made her own choices” NO SHE FUCKING DIDNT!!!!! THE WHOLE POINT OF HER CHARACTER. WAS THAT SHE COULDN’T!!! Shallow fucking libfem bullshit they MASSACRED my girl!!!!!!

– Why is Arnook comforting Sokka when Sokka should be comforting HIM

– Also Sokka would never express his insecurities to Arnook in the first place. NOT MY REPRESSED KING????

– Why is Sokka giving emotional support and Katara giving tactical support -_-

– They really think that “Gotta let go of the past to have a future” is such a fucking smart line they used it twice

– Conquering Omashu wasn’t a STRATEGY it just happened CONCURRENTLY because their imperialist regime is incredibly powerful … This show doesn’t understand its own politics at all.

– Azula has no poise or swag smh

– Aang doesn’t even know about Sozin’s comet because Roku didn’t tell him…

– It’s crazy that a show written in the 2020s is actually SO MUCH more sexist than a show written in the 2000s.

– TDLR; I hate you capitalism, I hate you Netflix, I hate you White Sokka, I hate you SHEIN Katara, I hate you heterosexual nepobaby Suki, I hate you girlboss Yue, I hate you visibly insecure Azula, I hate you whatever is going on with Mai, I hate you CGI Momo, I hate you wack ass pacing, I hate you clunky, idiotic dialogue, I hate you complete and utter lack of consideration into what made this show great in the first place, I love you Danny Pudi, I love you Ken Leung.

Which, in fairness, is all pretty much exactly what I expected this show would be. But at least actually watching it did indeed verify all my assumptions (although what they did to Katara specifically was even worse than what I had assumed, dear god), so I will be writing up a more in-depth review soon so that I can actually try to unpack why this show is such a dumpster fire, and how that reflects larger trends in media. But for now, all I can say is, I can’t believe I sat through 8 hours of this fucking garbage knowing it would be bad and it was. I’ve been saying this show would suck ass since the second it was announced, and yet it somehow managed to still prove worse than even my incredibly pessimistic expectations. A soulless, shallow, offensive work of profit that cannot even attempt to justify its own existence. I need to kill White Sokka with hammers.

[k-hotchoisan]

🔮 Divination with the Demon 🔮

Behemoth demon!San x fem witch! Reader

Synopsis: outcasted by your previous coven due to your overly sharp and dangerously specific divination readings of the fall of your coven, you were exiled to being alone for the next 562 years. Sick being in solitude and missing your deck, you summon a behemoth demon to make a new one.

Word count: 6K

Genre warnings: general Smut, San is an eldritch being so he has like a demon sized dick, ritualistic things (magic talk and lingo), demonic contract with San through unprotected sex, riding, multiple orgasms, creaming & cream pies, oral sex (f receiving) cum drinking (not a lot), bulge kink, finger pricks (only once), dry humping(?), biting and bleeding, San is a really sweet behemoth—just like the one in the game!❤️

A/n: loosely based off this wonderful game—The Cosmic Wheel, Sisterhood🔮 (please go ahead and support indie creators! ❤️). I was so inspired bc the behemoth in game is such a flirt hehehehe no please I’m down bad for enough people already. 😐

Enjoy!

“So you were exiled here due to treason within the coven, and concern of spreading panic via divination readings by the supreme”, the witch arbitrator announces as she reads out from the book. “You’ve been here for 289 years already?”

“Concerned is an overstatement”, you reply through gritted teeth. “She cursed me, banished me here for the next 562 years, and burned my deck. That’s pretty fucked up.”

The arbitrator raises an eyebrow as her gaze returns to the book. “Well I suppose I could grant you visitation at least because by the records here so far, you’ve been pretty-behaved.” Your temper cools off a little—just a little. It was a step forward, albeit a fucking tiny one. “Yes. I think that would be fine, Arbitrator. Thank you.”

She nods at you. “Behave well and I’m sure she can’t implicate anything else on you. Please take care”, she says before leaving the window on her flying stick. You stare as her figure quickly disappears into the starless night sky.

You sigh in annoyance. It was ridiculous how the supreme deemed your divination readings a threat, then subsequently accused you of treason and causing unrest within the coven, just because the other sisters had started leaning onto you for your accurate readings. Was she afraid of your prophesized dissolving of the coven, or was she simply scared of being overthrown? Whatever it was, being stuck here in solitude for 562 years, and your deck burned at the stake was not on your bingo list.

You nibble on your thumb nail, thinking of what to do. 289 years had passed since then, and all you had been doing was meditate and reflect on your actions. You had an itching to get your deck back—or least have a temporary deck or something. Your eyes flicker to your grimore lying at the bottom of your bookshelf and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

If you couldn’t get your deck back, why not make a new one? However the only issue is that a contract had to be made in order to breathe magick into the deck. You’ve never tried this ritual before but desperate times called for desperate measures—you really needed to do a reading.

You circle the wooden floor with your fingers, feeling the bumpy texture—each crease and indent. Retrieving your matchbox, you pull out the deep purple matchstick from the bundle, and began lighting the dark-coloured candles formed in a circle, and finally the incense sticks that were lodged in a miniature caldron, used for holding said sticks for your rituals.

Dabbing your your index finger with a black inky substance, you draw out a summoning rune onto the wooden surface, chants leaving your lips as you do so. It was a perfect full moon that night, just what you needed. You sit at edge of the summoning circle, with your grimore open at the side, carefully reading the spell.

Taking out a small silver needle, you prick your middle finger, letting the blood pool the size of a pinprick before letting the drop of blood splatter onto the middle of the black rune, reciting your final chant.

For a moment, the room is dead silent. Then the wind picks up, howling into the dead of the night, the flames on the candles dancing to keep burning, then being quickly extinguished one by one. Your curtains flutter violently, as you notice the full moon turning into a crimson colour. You stay seated as the wind whirls around you and the grimore’s pages flipping non stop. The rune activates, along with your blood which sinks into the black ink, and something slithers up to your window.

“Come in,” you invite, your gaze never breaking from the entity. It hisses at first before turning into a more human-sized creature as it enters your room, its feet gingerly touching the wooden floor.

The candles’ flames flicker back on, you look up at the entity standing before you. He barely looked like a behemoth demon—not like the one described in the book at all. Instead, he looked pretty fucking young—he has an appearance of a younger male actually. His eyes were silts as black and red markings smudged at the ends of his eyes. Speaking of his eyes—they were a glowing red, almost enchanting. Incantation runes were littered all over his arms and limbs, all visible since he was wearing a black vest. A third eye was present right smack in the middle of where his cleavage dived into, it’s iris a deep red as well. His hair is jet black with cream streaks and slicked back, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and facial features. His lips are stretched slightly wider than a human’s, and seemingly torn black wings extended out from his back.

He tilts his head at you in curiosity. “A witch summoned me?” he asks as he inches closer to you.

You nod, still seated. “I’ve summoned you to make a blood bind with you. I need a new deck.”

“Well, you’ve definitely summoned the right behemoth, that’s for sure. What happened to the deck you’ve been using?” he prods, his jet black fingers tapping on his chin.

“It was burned by my coven’s supreme. She banished me here because she was scared that the coven would dissolve because of my divinations”, you reply.

“Quite a bitch isn’t she?” the behemoth replies. You nod. At least someone fucking agrees.

He cracks his knuckles. “Well, you’ve definitely came to the right behemoth. They call me San”, he introduces as a smile spreads over his pretty face.

You smile. “You don’t look how what I expected you to look actually.”

And that cracks San up, his sharp fangs all visible. “I get that a lot. It’s just my secondary form I prefer to take on since the first usually can’t fit through windows.”

You surprise your laughter, amused at how casual this behemoth is being. “You’re pretty casual for a behemoth actually,” you point out.

San nods. “Well, I am an eldritch nonetheless, and I’ve been here since these universes were born—I’ve watched them be born and destroyed countless of times. I don’t really feel the need to be intimidating since I’ve been around for too long. You’re the first to have summoned me since the past 3 centuries.”

You nod in interest. “Must have been pretty fucking boring out there, huh?” San only smiles, and that slightly gets you. You look away and shut the grimore before turning back to him.

“So walk me through the process, San” you request. San moves forward and he sits across you, his boney wings tapping against the window panes at how wide they were.

“Well, you know the basics, but we’ll go through it together—the elements—fire, air, earth and water are always the building foundations of any deck. You get that, right?”

You nod.

He continues, “then we go onto the elements of each card—the Arcana—which will determine how you read and interpret the cards.”

Pretty basic deck stuff, but it was great that he was taking the time to refresh your memory since it had been way too long.

“I will go through each element with you per day—you’re basically going back to magick school again. Then once the final element is sealed, that’s when I’ll bind myself to you, through another ritual”, he concludes. “Any questions?”

“What’s the other ritual? Do I need to prepare anything?” You ask. San shakes his head. “The only thing you need to prepare is your consent.”

“Yeah, sure of course.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest y/n.”

Day one: Air

Sure enough, at the same timing as the previous night, San slithers into your open window, his serpent-like tail splitting into two, long legs as he climbs into your room.

“Good evening to the lovely behemoth”, you greet. San exposes his fanged grin. “I see you’re already prepared for the first lesson.” He glances at the empty deck of cards piled up on the small wooden table. Scattered around are more candles, another stick of incense, crystals and a bowl of ink for rune casting, and finally, a small crystal sword right by the plate.

He begins. “The element air represents the ability to reflect, communicate, to be aware and to perceive. Let that flow through your veins as you charge the card.”

You gingerly placed an empty card onto the selenite plate, and San sits across you, as usual as his fingertips touch yours, where he ends up linking his fingers with yours.

“It’s time to seal the card. Tell me,” San asks, “what do you crave for the most? Power? Love? Knowledge of the universe?”

You pause to think about your answer. And you tell him once you’re ready. He nods in agreement. “You seem like the type.” You roll your eyes.

“We literally just met yesterday, San” you joke. He shrugs, “feels like I’ve known you for an eternity.”

“Lying ass,” you poke. “But you did mention that the last time you did this was, what, three centuries ago?”

San nods. “It definitely has been awhile. To be fairly honest, I had an inkling we would meet soon, just not this soon.”

“And the universe brought you to me”, you hum. “Okay. Back to the Air ritual.”

He gestures you to shut your eyes and you do, so he follows shortly after.

It doesn’t take long for the magick to activate. You feel your energy getting sucked off by San and it feels though as if your body was about to be ripped into a million pieces. San throws his head back in pleasure as a low, manic cackle rumbles through his vocal chords.

“Yes, that’s lovely. Pour in all that energy into me, master”, he sings. He soon lets go of you, and you gasp for air, beads of perspiration clinging onto your forehead and temples. Your hands had slipped out his and you clutch your chest, taking slow breaths.

“Fuck, San, is it supposed to hurt so much?” You heave, eyebrows furrowed. How in Astaroth’s name will you be able to pull through the next three elements if Air is already leaving you clutching for your fucking life? Granted, witches are immortal, they cannot die, but they can still be gravely wounded.

San turns to you and pats your back gently. “I’m sorry my master, it is part of the blood contract. If it makes you feel better, you only have to go through this once per element.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure if you should be concerned or relieved. San materialises a silk handkerchief and dabs the sweat off your skin, and your heart flutters slightly at the gesture. Also, since when did he start calling you ‘Master’?

“Your first air card is ready”, he reminds you. “Now you can create more air elemental cards. Be proud of yourself, my master.” He points to the glowing card on the selenite plate. You reach over and flip the card, and sure enough—what you had envisioned on the card was imprinted onto the once empty card. It glimmers a gorgeous white at its accents. You feel the light and airy feeling surging through your hands as you touch the card, and your heart is racing at how many air cards you can begin creating.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, to steady yourself, and you notice that the third eye on his chest was white now. Your breathing has stabled now and you lie onto your bed where San hums you to sleep, telling you to get some rest.

Day 2: Water

“Are you feeling better?” San asks as he hops into your room. You nod, feeling a strange surge of energy after a night’s rest. The sky was always the same—dark and starless.

“We can start with today’s element”, you say, prepared for the class.

San smiles and nods, as always, he takes a seat across you, and you can’t help but get lost in his crimson eyes.

“Water is all about flow, dealing with emotions, fluidity, spirituality. It is a passive element, often linked with healing and love. However, most witches tend to forget that the calmest elements can be the most deadly when used right.”

Undoubtedly, water was always of both opposite spectrums—extremely calm or extremely malevolent if it wanted to be. Today, you had a small chalice decorated in jewels on the body, filled with moon-charged water. You take another empty card, and begin sketching out the rune you want, with your first water card in your head, clear as day before settling it onto the plate. Once you were done, San’s fingers snake in between yours, and you’re starting to get used to this feeling already.

“Now, the Water seal. Tell me; who or what do you hold closest to your heart? You family? Your intelligence? The coven?

It takes you awhile to think of an answer but then you’re confident when it comes to you. San nods as he lets the answer sink in. “I was kind of hoping you’d stray and say my name, yknow,” he teases. You laugh and slap his palm lightly. “It very well could be. It’s kind of hard to pick though honestly. Maybe I just want to feel something again.”

San cocks an eyebrow, quite touched by your passion. “May this lift any heaviness you feel then”, he says, drawing circles into your palm. Your heart only flutters even more.

“Take a deep breath, master. The element will be sealed soon.”

Just like the previous time, the magick activates, and again, you feel a sharp pain, as if struggling against rough tides of water, your breath sucked out of you. San, humming as he absorbs your energy again, his eyes glowing a pale shade of blue this time. You exhale to get a hold of yourself as the feeling washes over as quickly as it came, clutching the edge of your table. You take deep breaths, your vision focusing on the blue glowing card on the selenite plate. You flip the card over, the serotonin boost seeing how gorgeous the water card was—metallic blue covering the borders of the card and the elements within the card at perfect places.

“I should give you a reading for fun”, you suggest, your fingertips tracing the edges of the card. San’s eyes light up at the idea. “We should do one when you’ve got all four elements. I’d love that.”

You slip the card above the Air element card, clearing out the table, preparing to get some rest as San accompanies you through the night.

Day three: Earth

“Now, Earth is known to be an element of grounding, practically, foundation and stability. It reminds you of who you are at the present moment and gives you a place to stand on”, San explains, flicking the coins on the table. “Just like the ground, it is reliable because it is strong enough to hold you up. The only thing is that it’s hard on you as you are hard on yourself.”

“Tell me; what do you tend to harbour the most? Grudges? The past? Emotions?” He asks again. You tap against your lips, wondering about the answer, and then you tell him once you were ready. He nods in acknowledgement. “Interesting answer, as always from you. You’d probably have a lot you held in, especially in the past hundreds years in solitude.”

“Meditation can only get you so far, when you remember that you were exiled for telling the truth”, you say quietly, staring at the moon, which had turned into a shade of ivory. “My sisters were everything to me.”

San knew that very well. Witches treated each other closer than what a conventional family did. A coven was supposed to protect and bond the sisters, not outcast them.

“But do you still have sisters that you want to see?”

You nod, your eyes twinkling at the thought of two precious sisters who had been there through everything. And you yearned to see them again, now even possible that the arbitrator had granted visitation rights. Maybe you’d send a falcon to them once you were done with your deck creation.

“Now, shall we begin? You’d best prepare yourself, master,” San says as he takes your hand in his. You feel your hands moulding into his automatically, nothing but comfort being offered.

Again, San begins extracting your energy and this time was no different from the previous—it stung, it hurt and a wave of nausea hits you this time. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear San’s laughter as the magick seems to tickle him if anything. And then, it was over.

You tilt your head backwards, trying to get some cool air, trying to let the nausea leave your system.

You feel a warm hand pat your back, then rubbing circles.

“You know, most witches would immediately throw up after this round. You’re holding up really well.”

“Guess I’m one of the best witches then?” You find the strength to joke a little. San laughs and replies, “one of my favourites too.”

The nausea soon goes away and colour starts returning to your cheeks. By then, you were already holding the Earth element card up against the moonlight, admiring the sand-coloured decals lined across the card, as well as the border.

Day four: Fire

San looks rather chirpy tonight, there was a bounce in his steps as he settles himself onto the lavender carpet. “Someone’s excited,” you smirk, putting one of your spell books away.

“Of course! Fire’s my favourite element”, he exclaims, playing around with your unfinished deck. You’ve had created a handful of elemental cards already, 12 of each element, while San was both in and out of your room. All there was left was the Fire element and the deck could almost be complete—you could already taste it. You already did a couple of readings as a warm up with San and you found out a couple of things through the divination readings.

One, his true purpose—other than aiding in the creation of divination decks—was to destroy other universes and guide the dead stars to the recreation of a new one.

Two, despite his chirpy demeanour, the cards revealed that there was some kind of loneliness he harbours, being detached and left to watch over the cosmos for millenniums.

Three, you sort of deduce that he was summoned also to seduce you in some sort of way—and he finds that amusing, and he doesn’t deny it.

Needless to say, San is greatly impressed by your divination skills and offhandedly mentions that he’s in love with the cosmos for bringing him to someone like you.

Soon enough, the both of you were back to business—sitting across each other, a wooden wand splayed across the table this time round.

He begins.

“Fire—the element of willpower, ambition and energy. Those who are able to wield this, wield it well, those who can’t—it takes them awhile. Fire is for inspiration, drive, passion. One of the most beautiful yet difficult elements to control. In the beginning, mankind was the first and the only mammals to be able to manipulate fire.”

“No wonder you like this element so much”, you point out as you scribble the rune onto the empty card.

“If you’re able to handle earth, fire might be a level up in intensity. Don’t push yourself if you can alright?” San reminds you, and you could spot the excitement glinting in his eyes. “Now for the seal; who would you sacrifice to the cosomos for your divination deck? Your immortality? Your coven? Or your family?”

That question weighs heavily in your mind and San gives you the time to answer as he plays with your fingers. You finally give him your answer, and he nods in understanding. “You’re willing to let that go?” You nod.

He smiles, “as long as you know it’s the right choice for you. Let’s begin.”

The ritual starts as usual—the swirl of flames from the candles, the howl of the winds. You prep yourself for the burn and it comes—albeit painfully. San’s eyes are fully engulfed in crimson red now, glowing as he feeds into your energy.

“Beautiful! Your essence is beautiful master! I’ve never felt such extraordinary energy from a witch!” He cries out as red fluid leaks down from his eyes. The runes and symbols on his limbs start glowing and his wings expand, filtering the moonlight. That is all you could remember before your mind buzzes, your ears ring and your head pounds as you black out.

Day ??

Your eyes flutter open, and something is different—you feel it. All the pain you’ve felt has faded, as if it never happened. In fact, energy was surging through you—so much energy. You slowly sit up as you look around the room. Everything looks the same as when you finished the fourth ritual. Perfectly at that moment, San emerges from the darkness and appears slightly different—his hair was slightly longer, his eyes had red smudges, which for some reason made him look even more attractive, and the third eye on his chest was a bright red.

“Hey, you’re awake”, he exclaims as he levitates over to you.

“Was it successful?” You ask. San furrows his eyebrows.

“My master, you were out cold for a couple of days, and the only thing you’re worried about is if the Fire ritual was successful? Care for yourself a little more would you?” San pouts as he pulls a cup of cold water into your arms with his magic.

You thank him softly as you take small sips.

“I was out for a few days from the ritual?” You ask again. San nods. Apparently you blacked out just right after San had finished feeding you, and he had caught you in time before you hit the floor.

“How are you feeling though? Any pain?” He asks, concerned as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. You shake your head and tell him you feel a little more different—more powerful or something. San pulls out the beautiful Fire card, reminding you of your craft. You break into a smile as you take the card off his hands and embrace him into a hug.

Now there was only one ritual left—whatever it was. San hasn’t told you yet and you were too engrossed with creating your cards that it slipped your mind.

“The last ritual,” you say, and you notice slight red tinting his cheeks and your curiosity peaks.

“The last ritual, is to bind us together”, he pauses, “through sex.”

Your jaw drops. “Holy fucking shit. Are you serious?”

San nods. “Yeah I am a behemoth in contract after all. That’s why I uh, said the only thing you needed to prepare for for the final ritual was your consent.”

It wasn’t about that. It was about you being fucked by a demon. You haven’t had physical contact with a human for years, let alone a whole ass demon.

“It might hurt compared to a mortal’s but I’ll try my best to be gentle”, he continues. But you see his confidence slowly dwindle the more you stay silent. “I need to consume your blood through biting as well in order for the pact to be bonded by blood.”

You never thought this would be how the contract would finish. Butterflies filled your stomach as you realise how attracted you were to this behemoth who, despite existing since the birth of the cosmos, was gentle and a soft, even a flirt. If anything, it was almost an honour to be one with him.

“Please, San. We can start the ritual. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to do it with,” you confess as you leave yourself vulnerable for him. That sealed your consent, and the markings on his limbs start glowing again. San held an expression of relief and affection. He reaches out to you and traps you on the bed, in between his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to hear that”, San confesses next, and his eyes glow a soft, dark red hue. You could see he was trying to hold back.

He leans in slowly and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He is lips are soft and there was a slight burn as you kissed him, but it only drives you to want to indulge in him even more. Only behemoth demons could taste this good. Maybe only San.

You feel his appendage hardening above you and your heart races. He wasn’t kidding—he was way bigger than any of your previous mortal partners. No way was he gonna fit in you. But at the same time, the challenge of trying to take him was exhilarating to think about.

As the kiss continues to deepen, San pulls off his vest, revealing it bare, and you realise that only his limbs were covered in symbols. He peels off your top and tosses it onto the floor as he continues to kiss down to your chin then to your neck. You exhale in pleasure as your fingers find locks of his hair. His tongue licks your neck and it drives you crazy from the slight pricks.

Your bare tits are out for him to gawk at and he dives into them, licking and squeezing them, only pooling the arousal in between your legs.

Your grip on his hair tightens as your soft moans increase in pitch.

“Does that feel good, master?” San asks as he shifts forward to give you a kiss.

You trace some of the runes on his muscled arm, recognising a few of it. “You’ll look even prettier when my rune is engraved onto you, San”, you flirt, and you feel his cock harden even more, pressing against your cunt. “Of course, only for you, master,” he hums as he rubs you against him, and your mind starts getting lost in the pleasure. He peppers kisses down from your nipples, to your abdomen, then your pelvis and finally to your pulsating pussy.

He spreads your legs, glancing up at you before licking your clitoris, the small barbed edges of his tongue causing your hips to jerk upwards. He dives in deeper, wanting to turn you into a mess.

San slowly plunges two fingers into your wet cunt, swallowing hard at how tight your pussy was, imagining how his cock would definitely fucking stretch you out perfectly. He glances up again, looking at you for a reaction before continuing to pump his fingers. Your moans fill the room as he finger fucks you in bliss, hitting the perfect spot. He adds another and your hips lift from the pleasure. It takes a while for you to adjust, and he pulls out his fingers, soaked in your essence. He gives his fingers a good suck.

“Witches tend to have good tasting essences, and yours just happens to taste the best.” Red creeps across your cheeks.

He removes his pants and underwear, revealing a girthy cock, red and angry, spilling with precum. You had to touch the sides of your lips to make sure you weren’t drooling too much. Fuck, how are you gonna take that in you?

“You’re gonna be fine”, San assures. “Tell me if it’s too much for you okay?”

You nod and San presses his tip at your entrance, and pushes in. Your eyes roll back as he pushes another inch in. Fuck, even the heavens could never compete with this feeling of pleasure. San pauses for second and your eyes flicker to his face, which is contorted in pleasure. He seemed like he was about to explode—and he wasn’t even fully in you yet.

“Y/n, you’re so tight. Gods, you’re squeezing me so good”, he pants, his grip tightening against the sheets beside you.

You decide to be a tease, and you shift your cunt deeper into your cock, and San fucking loses it. His eyes were flickering from crimson red to a lighter shade of red. “My master,” he pants in between. “If you’re gonna do it like that, the heavens won’t know what I’d do if I lost control.”

And that provokes you to tease him even more as you push yourself deeper, at the same time bringing your pleasure to almost a fever pitch. San groans as he pushes the rest of him into you.

“Fuck, San, you feel so amazing. If I knew you’d feel this good, I would have summoned you way earlier”, you cry out as he barely pulls out fully before rutting back into you.

San doesn’t forget to pamper you with kisses. It stings, definitely, but the pleasure is definitely overriding the pain. In fact, the pain was probably egging the pleasure even more.

His fingers trace the bulge at where his cock lies in you. “We fit so well, Master. Don’t you think so?”

You were starting to feel to fucked out to form any rational thought, but you nod, staring at him through hooded lids. He fucks into you a couple more times before you stop him. San’s face switches to an expression of concern immediately.

“I want to ride you. I want to feel your cock fully in me, San”, you barely say, rubbing his face gently with your thumb. He sighs in relief as he pulls out of you, causing you to cry in pleasure again, a string of precum connecting his cock to your pussy.

He takes your hand and guides you to his lap as the both of you get comfortable on his lap.

You adjust yourself to sit on his cock and you start grinding against him, the mix of his and your precum reducing the friction and enhancing the pleasure. You made sure you move forwards to reach the tip of his cock and grind backwards. San throws his head back, crying from pleasure as more precum leaks from his sensitive tip. Grinding up on his cock was making you even more soaking wet, sparking even more pleasure as your clit rubs against his wet cock. You continue to swerve your hips on his cock, loving the slight friction that tingles your core. It builds up from the previous time he ate you out, and when he fucked you in missionary.

“How does that feel, Master?” San asks, half lidded. He was starting to get lost in the pleasure every time you grind up to his tip.

“It feels amazing. I think I’m gonna cum-“ you fight to finish the sentence as you speed up, feeling your orgasm approaching sooner than you expected. You cry out in bliss, your orgasm flooding you as your pussy pulses against San’s twitching cock. San is doing everything in his power not to just lift you and fuck you like this, seeing how soaked you were in pleasure with him.

You feel his hands trail up to your ass as he lifts you up gently, angling his cock at your entrance, and slowly lets you go. Your hands press hard against his naked chest as tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes, while drool starts pooling at the corners of your lips as you sink onto his cock.

“You can take me, Master. I know you can”, he whispers into your ears. You sink in deeper to his length and your fingers dig into San’s broad shoulders. His hands snake to your thighs and he cheekily pushes you down and you scream from the fullness of his cock.

“There you go. There’s my good Master. I love how your pussy feels around my cock”, San encourages. He lifts your ass and drops you back into his cock. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You nod. “So good it’s almost sinful”, you mange out. San snickers. “Nothing too sinful if a behemoth is fucking you so well.”

You lean in for a kiss, and this surprises San but he immediately reciprocates, deepening the kiss quickly.

Soon enough, you are just mindlessly bouncing in his cock, every thrust sending you closer to the edge. San struggles to keep it together as well, as you feel him rutting his hips up.

“Master, I’m gonna cum”, San says, with an expression of desperation and desire.

“Go ahead. You’ve been doing so well”, you reply as you comb his hair back. He leans in, lips attached to your neck as he continues to fuck into you desperately. He bares his fangs and bites into you as his cock spurts into your cunt, filling you up to the brim. Blood pools at the base of your neck, and you cry from the simultaneous pain and pleasure, your second orgasm hitting you right at that point as you cream all over San’s cock.

San licks up the blood on your neck, and the skin heals almost as quickly as it broke just mere seconds ago, and he’s still fucking cumming in your pussy, his lower abdomen twitching.

He removes his lips from your neck and blood stains pool at the corner of his lips. You lift yourself off his cock, his cum just dripping out of your pussy. San holds you gently as he uses his free hand to collect the mixture of fluids on his fingers. He pushes his cum-covered fingers to you and you take it eagerly, savouring the taste albeit it being salty. He takes his turn to lick his hands.

“The contract has been sealed, master”, San confirms, and his eyes glow a bright red.

“That’s lovely. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, San”, you smile as you plant a kiss on his lips, which takes him by surprise, but he seems nothing less of satisfied.

As the planet begins to shift from the blood pact being created, it shakes the universe. You don’t know what’s about to happen, nor do you care. A burst of energy enters you as you levitate into the air, feeling the energy of the cosmos, as well as elements of the deck. Your cards shuffle, and float around you, and you see all of your creations in its glory. Your own divination deck, bonded to you by blood.

You take a deep breath in, as you settle back onto the bed, your cards shuffling back into its deck, onto the selenite plate. Something catches your attention, and you walk over to the full length mirror leaning against the wall. Something is glowing. You gasp, looking at the behemoth’s rune engraved into your skin, a beautiful crimson red as the glow fades. San, right behind you, tracing over your rune fondly. You look up to him and you notice he has the same rune engraved into this skin—and the only rune around his chest.

“Now we’re official bonded. You did so well, my master,” he compliments, stroking your hair gently, understanding how taxing the rituals must have been, still admiring the shared runes you both had on your bodies. “I will make you happy, I promise.” Your heart skips at beat at his words.

“San”, you call out, even though he’s standing right by you. He hums in attention, his eyes now on you.

“Do you think we could do this more often? Like the fucking?”

San is stunned for a moment as he processes the question. No one had asked him that before. Usually the binding rituals were solely to bind the energies of the witch and behemoth, and it is never done again. He’s confused but he agrees, seemingly happy that you enjoyed the ritual with him.

And that’s what you drown yourself in—doing divination readings for others and San as well, and taking his cock whenever you felt like it. It was too good to pass on. Not to mention he was so good at aftercare—making sure you were alright after every session. Undoubtedly, San, himself, was really starting to enjoy having sex with you as well.

You couldn’t think of wanting anything else.

[devildomditzy]

Aaah!!!!! I’m so excited for this!!!! Would it be alright if I requested “I need you beside me.” ❤️‍🩹🥺 for Mammon? I love all your work, and I can’t wait to see everything that comes out of this event!!!!

Thank you very much ❤️ I hope I make you cry a lil

(this one got way too long)

TW for gore, spoilers for lesson 16

Also should have mentioned - ooc mammon bc i want to see him get angry

——————————————————————————

Things changed after that day. As much as you hate to admit it, seeing your lifeless, cold, dead body in your best friend’s arms really does fuck with you.

You became fearful, jumping at loud noises and avoiding the attic. A simple hand laid on your shoulder could provoke the most blood curdling scream, and necklaces were out of the question. If you felt even the lightest of touches around your throat, you’d panic into fight or flight mode.

And it wasn’t just you that changed. No, every brother personality’s shifted ever so slightly, and while you made a point not to mention it, you can’t say you were that fond of their new…‘quirks’ so to speak.

They became softer, too afraid to set you off into a spiral of memories that’s hard to come back from. They made sure you were never alone, a trait that while comforting, was becoming extremely bothersome. They watched you, ever present like hawks just to be sure you were still alive, you were still breathing, you were still with them. And even more so, they watched Belphie.

You’re trying to be nice, fuck, you’re really trying your best. Now that the news that you’re Lilith’s descendant has washed over, Belphie has taken a new, rather innocent interest in you. When he smiles that sweet, gentle smile at you, asking if you want to take a nap together, all you can see if his twisted, self righteous smirk, his lips upturned in laughter as he squeezed all the life out of you, crushing your windpipe and slashing a large, deep, sickening gash along your chest, reaching down to your stomach. It might have not happened to this version of you, but since Barbatos merged the times lines, it might as well have. You have all the memories, all the burning feelings, all the swelling pain. And now you had to learn to live with that.

Progress was being made, you told yourself, in order to keep spirits up, not letting yourself wander in your head too much. Hey, just last week you stopped crying when he was in the same room! You could tell it made Beel happy to see you two interact. He’d try to offer to sit in on movies and naps to get you two acclimated to each other, but you just couldn’t . It’s not only your mentality holding you back, there was a physical force stopping you form getting any closer. Quite literally whenever the opportunity would arise, Mammon would grab your wrist in a vice grip, pulling you behind him and answering for you.

“They’re not interested in anything that has to do with ya.”

His body language screamed protection, and the gaze he shot the youngest reminded everyone he’s the second most powerful avatar. Honestly, you were thankful for it. You didn’t want to hurt Beel’s feelings, but the thought of being in a room with Belphie without Mammon made you want to throw up.

Group activities have been attempted. Family movie nights were once again ago, but the second born made sure the two of you were the farthest possible distance from his younger brother while still being able to see the screen. The atmosphere always awkward, intense, suffocating. You noticed Belphegor’s gaze reach you a few times, a small smile on his lips.

It was almost unbearable, if not for Mammon.

It once was rare that you felt Mammon’s aura become dark and foreboding, so rare that it took so long for you to see his demon form, the first time being at the ball Diavolo held. It was the first time you’d seen one of them like that and your brain didn’t scream in fear. Hell, he was the only brother who hadn’t tried to kill you. The amount of restraint he usually had was commendable.

That was all out the window now.

Mammon stared across the room at his brother, eyes throwing a wordless threat towards him.

“Dontcha wanna watch the movie Belphie? Ya keep starin’ at them yer gonna lose the plot.”

You’ve never heard him so emotionless.

So cold.

So threatening.

Unsurprisingly though, the youngest had decided he had enough of your protector.

“You don’t own them, Mammon”, Belphie grumbled under his breath.

“What did ya just say?”, Mammon shot back, his voice laced with venom, daring Belphie to answer him.

“I said you don’t own them!” The seventh born raised his voice now, tone matching Mammon’s in a lethal contest. “I said I was sorry! I’m trying to make up for lost time, but I can’t if you keep being their guard dog! We’ve barely seen them all week!”

The rest of the room stayed surprisingly quiet at first, simply observing the exchange in anticipation, waiting to see who would make the first move, if any move at all.

“Make up for lost time? Ya wanna make up for lost time when you almost made us loose them for good?”, you notice Mammon begin to clench and unclench his fists in what you have come to learn is an attempt to calm down.

“Ya better shut yer mouth before I shut it for ya. Permanently.”

This was going to break bad any second.

“How about I choke ya out till I cave your throat in? Slit ya down the front until you’re bleedin’ out and cryin’ for mercy, huh? How’s about I make you feel like they did, kiddo?”

Your eyes widen and shoot towards the only source you know who could stop this. As if waiting for your cue, Lucifer stands up and puts a hand to Mammon’s shoulder.

He leans in and whispers something harsh, quietly so the others can’t hear but loud enough for you to take in.

“Enough. Mammon, I understand your anger, but I will not allow anymore deaths on this property.”

When the second born does not seem to back down, he continues,

“Don’t you think they’ve seen enough carnage?”, he gestures towards you, and the action makes Mammon falter.

“Now, take them back to their room and calm down. If this happens again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

Mammon hangs his head, making his expression unreadable to you, huffing out shaky breaths before wordlessly grabbing your shoulder and ushering you out of the room.

You now find yourself seated on your bed, watching him pace relentlessly. He’s talking to himself under his breath, but you’ve never been good at reading lips. Usually between the two of you there’s never a dull moment, never a lull of silence. Right now though, you’ve got it. And it’s scaring you.

“Mammon?”, you question cautiously, trying to get his attention. You can tell he heard you by the way he jolts, but chooses to ignore you to continue his circling.

“Mammon, please?”

He stops, back facing you. At least he’s listening.

“I…”you struggle to find the right words. “I really appreciate you looking out for me.”

With that, he finally turns to face you, cobalt and golden irises finally locking onto yours. He looks pissed, but you can tell he’s trying to calm down for your sake.

“And I really appreciate you hanging out with me all the time…but, I don’t want that to get in the way of the relationship you have with your brothers.”

“Nuh Uh. No no no no no, nope. Don’t blame that idiot’s actions on yerself,” he sighs, grabbing you by the shoulders.

He kneels down now, meeting you at eye level.

“Listen, okay? And listen good cause I’m only gonna say this once. Our family’s problems shoulda never became yer own, got it? None of this is yer fault. Just…you were kinda… how should I put it…wrong place wrong time?”

“So you’re saying it would have been better if I wasn’t picked as an exchange student?”

“NO!”, he winces once realizing how loud that came out, with a speed that needed to cut off that line of thinking any further.

“But you guys have killed humans before? You even talked about eating them, and I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, but Beel definitely has, so why do you care about me? All of this started because you have to protect me, you’re honor bound and pact bound. If you didn’t feel the need to protect me so…so strongly, you would have never been mad at Belphie. Hell, you probably would have felt the same way about me too.”

You drop your gaze, unable to look at him now. The tears that pin prick your lash line threaten to pour over and fall down your cheeks. You become surprised as a hand comes up and wipes them away.

“Fuck, you’re an idiot, ya know that? Sometimes you can be a bigger idiot then me, and that’s sayin’ sumthin’”.

You head shoots up to angrily glare at him only to find him giving you the most sincere look you’ve ever seen on his face.

“You comin’ here didn’t change anything. Belphie woulda done anythin’ possible to kill the human exchange student if it was you, or any other schmuck. An I woulda had to look out for them, too.”

You ponder it for a moment letting his words sink into your skin. It sounds logical, you know that, but you still can’t help but blame yourself. He can almost see right through you.

“But, I don’t want any other schmuck, got it? You’re my human and I’m your first man. Ya know what that means?”

“It means I have to give you my undivided attention or you’ll throw a hissy fit?”

“Wha- Hey! No!”, He tried to look mad, but how can he when you giggle so brightly.

“It means you’re mine, idiot. There is no one else because no one else could even compete with ya. Of course I’m gonna protect ya. I can’t go loosing ya”, you can hear him choke on his words a bit before continuing, “not again.”

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into your chest and holding on as tight as you could, almost for dear life. He lifts his head of unruly white hair to look up at you.

“I need ya beside me.”

[joelsmochi]

Joel Miller — You Poor Thing

i saw his fingers in this gif and diED so enjoy this

**gif not mine

Part 2 to There You Go [can be read as a standalone, p1 is not crucial to this!]

a/n: this is dirtyyy bc i love you smut sluts & i want to feed into ur dirty desires hehehe. also there’s more spacing than normal between paragraphs bc i’m not editing on my computer, so i hope it’s not an issue!! ok i’ll let you read now ♡ enjoy :)

warnings: smut (minors dni), rough + light fingering, fluffy!joel, squirting (sorry guys it's just so fun to write about hehe), dirty talk, praise, slight (?) degradation, overstimulation, male ejaculation, cursing duh, multiple orgasms, narrator slightly objectifying herself :)))) lots of pet names & quite a bit of “good girls”

wc: 3k

My eyes flutter open when I feel fingers tracing the side of my face and though my first instinct is to move away from the body beneath me I smell the familiar scent of Joel and calm down. I look up at him and watch a smile spread across his face.

“Mornin’, pretty girl,” he gruffly says while still tracing my skin. “How’d you sleep?”

I plant a soft kiss on his clothed shoulder and sit up a little bit. His eyes are wider than usual and his normally flat cheekbones are poking high and bright, a sheer layer of red coating them.

“I slept fine. Why didn’t you wake me up for second watch, asshole?” I poke his arm and reach behind his head to take a drink of his water.

“Well, I shook you a couple of times, but you just pushed my face away and held me tighter,” he laughs.

“Mmm, you didn’t shake me hard enough then because I wake up easy as a lemon squeeze.”

“No, I didn’t try that hard to wake you up… You looked like you could use the sleep the way I wore you out yesterday,” he teases with a smug grin, his eyes still wide like he is in awe of me.

“Fuck off,” I chuckle. “Your ass woulda been wore out had you not been so damn stubborn, not letting me do any of the work.”

“Don’t act like it upset you… Being cared for.”

“It didn’t upset me… Just means I have to outdo you now.”

Joel lets out a belly laugh and I sit up completely. I stare at his salt and pepper beard while his eyes trail down to my blue tank top, and he looks up at me as if to ask permission but without waiting for an answer his hand rests on my ribcage and his thumb flattens over my perky nipple. I sharply inhale and my lips part wide enough to let his cock in if he wanted, Lord knows I do.

“This okay?” He asks softly.

I only nod, afraid that if I speak my voice will crack from how tense my body is getting.

“Yeah?” He whispers, kissing my shoulder before moving from the side of me to sit up behind me. “Come sit between my legs, baby.” I listen to his instructions and press my back to his chest, earning a kiss on my cheek from his supple lips. “You know… You really shouldn’t sleep half naked…“

“Because of danger?” I sarcastically tease.

“That too… But if I were to wake you up last night it wouldn’t have been for watch.” His hands roam around my chest and stomach roughly and his cock begins pressing against the small of my back. I try to reach for it but his grip remains firm on me as he whispers, “Let me take care of you again, baby girl.”

I choose not to argue out of being mentally drained from how much sleep I got. I figure I’d need the mental stamina later on.

“Can you take your panties off for me?” Joel coos against the lining of my ear, softly nibbling on it as I obey him. “Mmkay, now spread your legs for me. Good girl.”

He loops his legs through my open ones to ensure I can’t close them and his feverish hand spreads across the peak of my tummy, inching towards my throbbing vulva which is definitely soaking the blanket beneath us. He sucks hard on the curve of my neck making me ache to turn around and ride him then and there, but his “good girl” keeps replaying in my head and I’d do anything to hear him say it again. Even if it means depriving myself of pleasure for just a little longer.

“Soft or hard?” He asks gently, almost as if he were afraid his words would break me.

I hum and throw my head back to his broad shoulder. “Why not both?” I flirt.

His eyelashes tickle my jaw from his blinking and he skips his hand past my clit to curl over inside of me. I cry out his name instantaneously, feeling his smooth fingertips press against my swollen g-spot every few seconds. With my nails digging into his hairy thighs and my legs squeezing around his calves, I look at him. I don’t know what I’m looking for but when I find his eyes narrow and lustful I can’t resist turning my head and slipping my tongue into his wet mouth.

His thick digits slip out of me to spread my soaked lips; he drags the buds of his fingers up and down the inside of my folds, shoving his tongue deeper into my mouth and drinking every moan I let out. His fingers spread to either side of my clit giving me goosebumps and his other hand snakes its way to fondle one of my breasts over my top. I lean my back into his hard cock to give him some tension release and he pulls his head up from mine to watch me as he begins his work.

He watches my eyebrows furrow when he starts to rub little circles over my swollen clit. He watches my eyes squeeze shut and open wide. He watches my throat swallow at how good he’s making me feel. He watches my heaving body fight the grip he has on mine.

He watches me like I’m his favorite movie.

He couldn’t have been rubbing my clit any longer than five minutes when my knees tighten against his legs when my climax swims through my stomach and swallows me whole. Neither of us had words, I just paw at his arms and trust his body to hold all of my weight. His breaths pour over my neck and he chooses to be gentle and slowly ease up on me so that I can have a full orgasm without the overstimulation.

Joel takes a few moments while I catch my breath to rub his calloused palms around my thighs and belly, sharing a few more kisses with me.

I open my eyes softly to smile as I give him a butterfly kiss which he took as an invitation to shove his fingers inside of me again; I focus on how it feels to have his fingers reach as far as the angle would let him, noting how it stung a bit being stretched out by just two of his fingers but feels so sweet at the same time. I let out a high-pitched moan when he rubs tiny circles on my g-spot, occasionally pushing it up.

His free arm wraps itself above my chest and squeezes me in closer to his big frame before asking, “That feel good?”

“Mm-hmm,” is all my body would let me say.

He pulls his fingers out, lands a firm smack on my clit, and then inserts his fingers inside of me again. My eyes screw shut at the mix of pain and pleasure and my chest heaves from my deep gasps. He grunts and starts to finger me so fast I could barely process when his fingers were actually moving. I watch him drill in and out of my sore pussy, grimacing at how overwhelmingly hard he’s fucking me with his perfect hands.

“You like that?” He whispers against the back of my head. “You’re such a good girl. You get so wet for me. You want daddy a’take care a’you? Hmm?” My thighs tremble at his filthy words, more so at his repetition of good girl. I dig my nails into his skin, waiting for ecstasy to engulf me again. “My pretty girl giving all of her sweet cum to me? That’s my girl.” There’s something about the way he talks to me that sounds…different. He speaks with certainty, but his tone is still asking for permission from my body.

The cocky son of a bitch knows the effect he has on me and could use my obedience to only please himself, but instead, he just gives me that sappy little look with his heavy eyes like he doesn’t suspect a thing about the way I feel for him.

He likes to pay attention to me and every muscle I move, hoping to read me like a book. Somehow he can tell that my leg is locking up from another orgasm rising as opposed to being uncomfortable. That’s what I love about Joel: how even on his darkest days he still managed to find enough light for me. He never forgets about me, and how to tend to my needs, and I’m noticing the same applies especially during sex.

“J—oh, fuck… Joel,” I stutter.

“What is it, doll? Talk to me.”

“I’m gonn—oh! I’m gonna cum f—for you.”

Joel nods against my damp head, somehow keeping the speed of his arm up. “Show me how pretty that cum is,” he grunts. “Fuck. You take it so good, sweetheart.”

While squeezing his thighs my back painfully arches off of him and I am just waiting, craving that final rub that sends me to the calmest parts of my mind.

Suddenly all of the tension that mounted inside of me explodes. I cry out his name as if it was my dying breath and his fingers keep reaching into me for more of my juices. He slides his digits as far up as they could go before curling them against my sweet spot, trying to gain as much depth as my body would allow.

“I can’t! I c-an’t, Jo—Joel!” I beg. My arms and legs fight him, but he remains as still as a mountain against me. “Please, Joel, I can’t take anymore!” The passion and pleasure turn into just aching, but he doesn’t give up despite my pleas. I close my eyes just when he speaks up again.

“Just a little longer, it’ll feel good again, I promise.” He pecks my cheek and rubs my chest to calm my breath. “I know you got it in you, doll, just need you to relax.”

“It’s too much,” I breathe out tiredly. The pain inside of me subsides, but from where his fingers are curving there is this wave of shocks rising to the surface of my clit. Pressure increases in my pelvis as his pace slows but his force strengthens. I wipe some of the sweat off of my forehead and slightly adjust my body against his; I wonder how he knows exactly what to do and how to do it. I couldn’t even begin to know how to make myself feel this on edge to where the pain was worth it, but Joel did it effortlessly. He knows the inside of me better than myself and knows how to make me crave the pain because with him I know it’ll always be worth it.

“I want you to cum for me again, baby,” he desperately begs while taking his other hand to rub large circles on my clit, “give me that pretty pussy. I need you to cum for me again. Don’t hold back. Just give it all to me, mmm, fuck, give it all. To. Me.”

I fold, caving my body to him and shuddering at the love taps he gives inside of me. His movements send shivers up my spine and then back down like a seesaw.

I hear my pussy squelch around his thick fingers and a gush of water makes my eyes pop open to see what it was, but I felt it before I saw it; his pads looping around my clit paired with his fingers inside of me had built up so much more than just cum.

Once he sees me squirting himself he lays all four of his fingers flat and taut, rubbing side to side over the bud to get my stream to splash everywhere — and I mean everywhere. I managed enough squirt to cover both of our legs and the blanket beneath us. I can’t even feel his fingers anymore as my body slowly numbs itself, but my orgasm wouldn’t stop which made me sink further into the bed and I ended up squirting all over my chest and face. I flinch and close my eyes, repeatedly smacking his arm to tell him I tap out once tears leave my eyes from the overwhelming state my body is currently in. I scream at an embarrassingly high volume but he doesn’t seem to mind. No, he loves it.

He laughs loudly and removes his fingers from inside of me, but not the ones on top of me. His rubbing slows down as does my gushing, but a little bit still comes out in short intervals. My hair is glued to my forehead and cheeks and my eyelids are stuck halfway down my pupils.

After a few more seconds he completely lets my core breathe, using his stocky hands to carefully push my hair from my face so that he could admire his work. I take a few seconds to breathe and twist my face to look up at him, and my goodness does he look happy to see me like this. He beams down at me before placing a smooch on my upper lip.

“You did so good, baby doll.”

“You got me all wet,” I pout wiping my lips dry.

Nodding shamelessly his hand finds its way back to my clit. “Lemme get one more outta you, just look at me, baby girl, mmkay?”

I suck on my bottom lip nervously and wrap my arm around his neck. “Mhm, anything you say,” I hum. To be honest I’m too tired to argue with him, and I love how he has his way with me. “I’ll do anything for you, Joel.”

He presses his fingers to my swollen clit, dragging them down to my opening and slowly pushing inside of me. He rigs his fingers to explore the forgotten parts of me craving to memorize every ridge along my walls. I gasp when his middle fingers reach past my sweet spot, clenching tight enough around him to hear more of my cum squish out of me.

“Such a pretty girl,” he moans, gasping with me when he slides against a curve inside of me.

His bushy eyebrows pinch together tightly at the sight of me curling up in his arms. I manage to move one of my outstretched legs back to the center of his legs, opting to hold it up by my head for comfort. He continues exploring my peaks and valleys, calling me all sorts of pretty names.

“Your fingers feel so good,” I coo, maintaining eye contact with him.

He tilts his head up in admiration and rewards me by touching me where I needed him the most. “You look so pretty when you cum, mnh,” he grunts. I feel his cock pressing against my back again, throbbing hard against his zipper. “I love feeling you squeeze around my fingers, you do so well for me, you love it don’t you?”

I give him a desperate nod, pushing myself harder against his warm strain. “I fucking love the way you fuck me, Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“I love the way you take care of me.”

He watches my needy body spasm for him, practically drooling over me. “You came all over yourself just for me?” I nod at his question. “Look at you… All wet and soaked for me,” he says before pausing to remove his fingers and squeeze my cheeks in his cum-covered hand. “You crying from how hard I made you cum?” He says like he was pretending to feel bad for me. “Awe you crying for me? …You poor thing.”

The way he shook my head a little when he said that—you poor thing—I can’t even compare this feeling to anything in this entire fucking world. My chest rises and falls harder than ever at his borderline degradation, and again I obnoxiously whine at his fingers entering me again. With another climax rising, his raspy voice whispering in my ear, and his throbbing cock aching beneath me, I couldn’t help but let the feeling consume me again.

“Mnh-mnh, look at me, baby,” he tells me; I open my eyes back up and watch the muscles in his face relax and then tense up again. “Look at me when you cum. I need you to cum for me again.”

I hiss when his pace quickens, leaving me feeling so stuffed with his fingers I couldn’t even make a single noise from how good it feels. I feel my orgasm finally explode and he does me a favor by continuing to talk.

His wet lips press to my cum-soaked face and he whimpers again my skin. “You poor little thing. You’re so fucking helpless right now, look at’cha.” His lips form an ‘o’ when a moan finally escapes my mouth. “You look so pretty… Cumming ‘round my fingers like that. Mm, I feel you cumming, princess, just give it all to me. Give it all to me.”

My walls push against his fingers as my discharge pours out of me. I feel so lightheaded from all the orgasms he’s given me back to back and my vision is hazy. I feel him smile against me, moaning when he spread my slit open before rubbing a few gentle circles on my clit.

I hear him whisper a few curse words as though he were troubled, so I peer my eyes open and look at him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…”

I feel his cock throb harder than before against my back and I smile once I realize what happened.

“Don’t—“

“You came in your pants?!” I tease, laughing boastfully.

“Yeah, well you pissed on yourself,” he mumbles begrudgingly.

“Only a little.”

He watches me blow some dripping liquid off of my face, smirking as it continues dripping down my chin. “Mhm.” He gives me a sweet kiss and helps me stand up. I stretch my legs out and let him peel off my shirt before handing me a rag to wipe myself clean. “You look beautiful today.”

I scoff. “You’re just saying that.”

“No… I’m not.” He gives me one of his shirts and lays me back down, kneeling in front of my tired face.

I snicker and giggle like a child. “Can’t believe I made you cum without even touching you.”

“Shut up.”

[sunray-222]

Second to you. | C.S

part 2.

warnings: angsty, strong language, mentions of panic attacks/hyperventilating, suggestive, ends with fluff bc idc i love happy endings, lmk if i miss anything.

————————————————————————

it had been two weeks since you left. you’d wound up staying with your best friend and her boyfriend, whether or not you planned staying there long term or not was still yet to be determined.

“y/n, honey?” she asked softly, knocking on the door. “yeah” you mumbled out, curling tighter into yourself. “are you planning on waking up today?” her tone was soft, she was very understanding of your situation with chris.

“not really, babe. maybe later.” you wanted to get up, truly you did. but every time you got up you were more miserable than when you laid there. “alright,” you could hear the last syllable fading as she walked away.

silent tears rolled down your face as you rolled over in the guest bed. somehow falling asleep, though you don’t even remember doing so.

all you’d remembered was the sun slightly creeping through the curtains, however when you awoke it was pitch black. checking the time on your phone, it was 10:30 or so. y/b/n and her boyfriend were awake, downstairs watching a movie what you could hear. and it only made you think of you and chris.

you had muted his texts, and when you checked you had over a hundred from him that hadn’t been read at all.

a solid fifty from matt.

and only one from nick, explaining he loves you and he loves his brother more than life but he knew this wasn’t his business.

you appreciated that. in all honesty, it broke you more knowing that your relationships with matt, nick, and the rest of his family were diminished as well when you ended your relationship.

it was now 11 or so, when you heard y/b/n’s boyfriend pause the movie, most likely assuming they were heading to sleep so you could finally go down there and eat.

unfortunately, they paused it to answer a knock at the door.

“chris?” y/b/n asked, eyebrows raised, “what are you doing here?”

chris looked rough. bags underneath his blue eyes, looking like he’d barely slept at all these last two weeks, baggy clothes which wasn’t too far out of his usual.

“where is she?” he asked, his voice hoarse, and from the look of his bloodshot eyes it’s because he’d been crying. “she’s asleep, chris. go home.” y/b/n said, her soft voice a little more stern.

“please, y/b/n. just please let me talk to her. if it gets me nowhere, fine. just please let me try. and then i’ll go, please i can’t keep on like this it’s killing me.” his voice cracked a bit between every word, like he was fighting his own tears.

and despite y/b/n’s better judgement, she knew deep down you needed this too. like he said, even if it gets him nowhere, in the very least you’ll get closure. and maybe that’ll move you on.

“upstairs, last room on the right.” she sighed, stepping aback, letting him make his way through the house. it didn’t take long for him to find you, placing a soft knock on the door.

“goodnight, y/b/n.” you say, thinking it’s just her coming to tell you goodnight. “y/n?” chris called to you, opening the door lightly.

at this point- you’re sure your brain is just wired from how much you’ve slept. that has to be what it is. surely he’s not really there.

“i just wanna talk, y/n/n.” he explained, sitting down on the bed in front of you. unfortunately he was very real and very much there.

“about what? honestly chris, about what?” you asked, sitting up, tears staining your face again even looking at him. “us, y/n i’m breaking apart here.”

“that’s rich coming from you,” the smile on your face reeked of sarcasm, as you tilted your head, looking upward. “i know.” his voice was deep, yet shy. his face stayed down toward his lap, afraid to look you in the eyes.

“i’ve laid in this fucking bed, barely ate, and i can only cry for you and sleep. do you know how fucking pathetic that is? breaking up with you took a piece of me that i’m afraid i’ll never get back.” you explained, laying back down and rolling your body away from him.

“baby i-”

“don’t fucking call me that.” your tone was cold, and your voice was raised as you said fucking.

even after full screaming fights, even after your most intimate moments, chris was sure he’d never heard you more serious. and this scared him.

“i’m sorry, y/n. from the bottom of my fucking heart i am so sorry. i fucked up. i lost the only thing that was really mine. i’ve shared everything with my brothers my whole fucking life. you were mine and i fucked it up.”

the tears continued to spill out of your eyes.

“y/n when we broke up, i was under so much stress trying to get shit figured out for my brand, meetings about another fucking tour, and i am so fucking sorry. i had no right to take it out on you and i did not mean to make our relationship so fucking sour. i hate myself for what i did to you. if i could take it back and change it i promise i would, you mean the fucking world to me. conscious minded me would’ve never hurt you like that, y/n you have to believe me.”

he hiccuped the last bit, the tears finally getting the better of you. you could count on one hand how many times chris cried in front of you.

“you hurt me, so bad christopher. at the end of our relationship,” you started sitting up, pulling his face into your hands and forcing eye contact. “you wouldn’t even touch me chris. you wouldn’t lay with me, i started to look in the mirror differently. because what 20 year old man doesn’t want to have sex with his girlfriend.”’

“i know, i’m sorry.” he cried, his eyes squeezing shut. his breaths ragged as he cried, leaning into your chest. “it was stress. i promise y/n, you know m-me. i-i would’ve never hurt you.” his tears were real, as he laid into you nearly sobbing.

“chris, chris, breathe. you’re gonna hyperventilate if you don’t calm down.” you soothed, rubbing his back. “please help me,” his cries were so pitiful, as you sat him up looking him in the eyes as you breathed deeply with him.

after a few moments, he spoke again. “i’m sorry i freaked out like that.”

“chris, it’s okay.” your voice was understanding as you brushed hair out of his face. “no it’s not. i just- i’m sorry, y/n. i’m gonna leave you alone. i think i’ve freaked you out enough for one night.” he sighed, standing up.

“chris, please don’t leave.” your voice was almost a whisper, as tears rolled down your face. “i miss you.” you cried out, hugging onto his torso, as he stood in front of you. soothingly, he ran a hand through your hair as he listened to you cry. “i miss you too, baby.”

“i’m sorry chris. i want you back,” you cried into him. “hey, hey, no.” he started, as he sat down on the bed in front of you. “do not apologize you did nothing wrong. that was all me, baby i promise. and i promise to come to you when things are wrong and i will never take it out on you again.”

you nodded, “i wanna come home chris. i haven’t even unpacked.” you explained, motioning to the bags beside the bed. “i hoped you’d say that. we might wanna hurry though, i’m surprised matt hasn’t laid down on the horn already with his impatient ass.” chris laughed, helping you pick the bags up and carry them down.

“no more trouble in paradise?” y/b/n asked, with a smile on her face. “nope. thank you for letting me stay babe you’re the best.” you smiled, hugging her.

you were ready to go back to the house, because chris was your home.

[eyelessjacksmask]

eyeless jack with a reader who is scared of spiders, like deathly afraid to the point they have panic attacks (OUTING MYSELF LMAO BC I HATE THEM) and one day someone (maybe like masky? idk lmao) decides to play a prank on them with a fake spider and the reader freaks out and masky is confused because it's just a fake spider and jeff is like "you're in for it lmao" and ej comes up and is pissed and helps calm the reader?

a/n: This was my first request and honestly it was perfect because I too am terrified of spiders lol! I have not been writing lately, the last time I wrote was probably 3 years ago, so I apologize if it's rocky!

Eyeless Jack x reader who is scared of spiders

TW: spiders, panic attack

Spiders are a common fear, quite a few people are scared of them.

You’d say you were actually terrified of them though. Just seeing one from across the room caused you to freak out. 

Everyone in the mansion respected this, doing their best to not point out a spider or trying to remove it before you see it.

Yes, even Jeff. He was an asshole and he liked seeing people scared, but he considered you a friend and the last thing he wanted was to upset you (well, really upset you. He did like to tease you every now and then)

Plus, you’re with Jack, and given he’s very protective of you and the whole demon thing, no one wants to risk making him mad. 

Except for Masky. In his defense though, he didn’t know exactly how scared you were of them. He thought you’d be a little scared and then laugh once you found out it was just a plastic spider. 

Obviously, he was an idiot. 

You were sitting on the couch, tired from playing outside with Sally, when Masky sat next to you. 

“Hey, want to see something cool?” 

You turn to face him, smiling as you nod. 

That smile quickly turns to a frown when you see the spider he put on your lap. 

You jump up, backing into the wall as you start hyperventilating, sobbing, and screaming to get it off.

Masky laughs as he picks it up, telling you “It’s just plastic, it’s not real!” He holds it out to you, but you only scream to get it away, unable to back up anymore due to the wall. 

He quickly realizes that you were not hearing anything he said as he watched you stand there shaking. 

“What the fuck happened?” You barely can make out Jeff's figure through your blurred vision. 

“It was a prank! I didn’t think they’d get this scared!” Masky groans, now really regretting what he did.

“Are you really that fucking stupid?! They’re terrified of spiders, you KNEW that.” Jeff turns and glares at Masky. “Fucking idiot.” 

“I’m sorry!” And he does mean it, but that doesn’t seem to matter much now.

“Oh, you’re going to be really fucking sorry.” 

Jack storms up to him, shoving him against the couch. “I’ll deal with you later.” 

Even Jeff is a bit taken aback. He’s never heard Jack sound so pissed. 

“Hey, darling. Look at me.” Jack is now in front of you. His hand is gently lifting your chin up. “You’re okay. It’s not a real spider, you’re safe.” 

You let him wrap you in his arms as you finally start to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out.

“Don’t be, love. You have nothing to apologize for.” He rubs your back as he gently rocks you back and forth, the movement helping you calm down. 

He continues to hold you until you are fully calm and able to breathe normally. 

Even though you're calm now, he’ll stay by your side for the rest of the day, every now and then looking in Masky’s direction who can feel the glare even if he can’t see it.

Jack wants to hurt him for what he did to you, but he decides that letting Masky live in fear for the next few days, anxiously waiting for him to pounce, is much more amusing.

[mypoisonedvine]

I can’t stop thinking about billy knight in a flatshare situation or something and he’s just like utterly besotted with his flatmate

he lingers in the living room while she’s cooking in the attached kitchen but panics when she sits next to him on the couch

learns what her favourite snacks are and buys a couple extra when he can and leaves them in the fridge but never asks her to eat with him - he’s too insecure and scared to despite how many times she’s invited him and they’ve had a lovely time

Idk maybe I’m getting too specific it doesn’t need those details I’m just trying to give you the vibe of lovesick but shy billy and I’d just love it if you’d write a little drabble based on this situation bc I literally think about it multiple times a week and that’s about how often I think about your fics

you're SO RIGHT FOR THIS!!!

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (handjob, implied more), premature ejaculation, fluff, pining, anxiety, awkward boners

He was trying so hard to not be weird and creepy. But it was sort of difficult, because it turns out when Billy has a massive crush on a girl that he is physically forced to be around almost all the time... he gets super weird and creepy.

Staring, and then looking away quickly when caught— which only makes it more obvious that he was staring; peering into your room when the door is left cracked to see what you're doing; stammering or not responding at all when you speak to him, because he's so afraid to say the wrong thing. He was acting like a total fucking weirdo, and he hated himself for it, but he couldn't stop— he was always thinking about you, and it was like he could never relax because you were always here, in his apartment, always doing adorable and sweet things that made his heart skip.

You cooked for him. He could barely remember the last time someone cooked for him and he knew it wasn't this good— your food warmed his chest literally and figuratively, and he had to resist the urge to say something horribly inappropriate about what a good housewife you'd make when he saw you serving up plates of curry with an apron on.

You cleaned for him. Even when he begged you not to, you ended up doing his laundry and tidying his room. He was mortified imagining that you might've found one of the old shirts he used to clean up after he jerked off every night, but if you had, you didn't say anything. Instead, you said that you liked cleaning his room for him because acts of service was your 'love language'. And then you just walked away like he wasn't in the middle of a crisis wondering if that meant you loved him?! Surely you didn't mean that, he was just your quiet roommate, he barely knew you and you barely knew him.

You said nice things. Things he had no idea to respond to— like that, but some more simple and subtle. You pouted when he got a haircut saying that you liked how he kept it long; and he instantly promised to never cut it again, and regretted it when you giggled... that was definitely coming on too strong. "I still like it like this," you promised, stepping closer, and gently pulling on the strands by his ears as he tried not to move a muscle in case you would stop touching him. "Easier to see your curls when it's shorter, at least, so that's nice."

When you left, he reached up and touched his own hair where you had, wishing he'd had the courage to touch your hand a moment before.

He was trying so hard not to imagine the worst when you were out all night: the worst was that something bad had happened to you, that you were hurt or sick or dead. That the police would be here in the morning to ask when he last saw you because they found your car in a lake or something. The second worst was that you'd met someone at the pub and spent the night at his flat. Billy rubbed his eyes as he tried not to imagine it, but his mind forced him to see it over and over; you laughing and moaning in the arms of some bloke that's everything he isn't, falling into bed and not even thinking for a second about your weird roommate with the obvious crush on you.

You came home the next morning with your stilettos hanging off your fingers, and he wondered if he should ask about it or pretend he didn't even notice. "We had such a good time!" you told him first. "I wish you would've come out with us, my mates would've loved to meet you."

"S-sorry," Billy mumbled, "jus' not the type for clubbing, I guess."

"Don't blame you, my ears are still ringing," you laughed. "And we stayed out a little too late and all the cabs were taken, I had to crash at Gemma's place."

He was way too relieved to hear that, smiling to himself. "Glad you had fun, though."

"Will you come next time?" you pleaded. "There's so many pretty girls at the club, bet you could meet someone you like."

His heart twisted as you winked at him playfully. "O-oh, m'not... I don't know how to talk to pretty girls."

"If you let me dress you up, you won't have to talk," you promised, stepping a little too close but he was too scared to move away. "I mean, I hope this doesn't come off the wrong way, but you'd look really great in a nice button-up that fits you right."

As his throat tightened, his eyes darting all over your face, he found himself asking the question he'd meant to think internally out loud: "What's the wrong way for that to come off?"

He figured you would say that you weren't trying to sound like you were flirting with him. "I'm trying not to insult your clothes," you giggled. "You should get some new stuff, is all— I do your laundry, you know, half of your shirts are stained and your socks have holes."

His face heated up as you stared at him with a smirk. "R-right, yeah... I think I have a button-up. Never wear it, though."

"Let me see it!" you pleaded.

"I-it's in the closet, I'll get it," he offered, starting to turn already— relieved and distraught to get out of your personal space.

"No, try it on for me," you clarified. "Wanna see you in it. And jeans!"

His heart pounded, but he nodded, "O-okay..."

His fingers were shaking so badly, he had trouble getting the buttons through the holes; but he managed to get dressed just in time for you to burst in as he was buttoning up the last one. "Are you ready yet?" you frowned.

"You're already in here," he noticed.

"Oh, you look so good," you beamed as you dashed up to him and put your hands on his chest. Good god, woman, are you trying to kill me?!

"Thanks," he mumbled. "It's kinda wrinkled..."

"Well, that's fixable," you replied. "Here, you should wear it with the sleeves rolled up."

He felt so helpless to you, so melted by your touch, and all he could do was hold his arms out as you unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled up his sleeves for him; your fingers kept touching higher and higher up his arm, and pathetic as it was, he was already getting a semi from it.

"Oh," you groaned in a way that burned himself into his mind instantly, holding onto both his elbows as you admired your work. "Yeah, this looks great. But I'm a sucker for a rolled-up sleeve."

"Really?" he mumbled.

"If you wore this out, you'd definitely get some phone numbers," you insisted. "Especially if you did your hair a bit..."

You reached up to card your fingers through his hair, and he watched you as he wondered if this was a dream or something— you were calling him handsome, weren't you? Or was it just flattery?

"So you'll come with us this weekend, right?" you assumed. It was hard to say no to you when you were looking at him like that... but he still did, sort of.

"I— I dunno," he mumbled awkwardly.

You puffed out your cheeks in annoyance. "Don't you wanna meet a nice girl, have a little fun?"

"It sounds scummy when you say it like that," he protested. "I'm not a player or anything."

You snorted. "Billy, nobody's at risk of thinking that."

He winced and looked down at the ground.

"N-no! I mean, because you're sweet," you added, and for a second he saw on your face the same nervousness he felt in himself. "Not because you couldn't— you know you could get as many girls as you wanted."

"Don't say that," he frowned.

"What? Of course you could," you shook your head, "you've got such a handsome face, and if you just unbuttoned these—"

You opened the top two buttons of his shirt, pulling it open to expose his chest and the beginnings of some hair there.

"Yeah, that's sexy," you announced proudly.

He thought he was going to fucking pass out. And, he realised with an appropriate margin of terror, he was hard as a rock.

Maybe if he'd managed to keep a straight face, you wouldn't have noticed. But you asked what was wrong, and then you looked down, and you saw the bulge in his jeans as clear as day. "O-oh, Billy," you mumbled.

"S-sorry," he choked out as he pulled away, wondering where he could hide forever— and you were already in his room! He had nowhere to go!

"No, wait," you pleaded as he turned towards the closet and shrunk a bit, "c'mon, it's not a big deal. I mean— okay, it's a big deal, but can we talk about it? Like, is this just one of those random things, or...?

"S'the way you touched me," he admitted, staring down at the floor. "Nobody's— haven't been touched in a while."

He shut his eyes tight, but he heard movement, so he opened them— and you were standing right in front of him. "Do you want me to touch you?" you asked softly.

"I— er," he stalled.

"If you want me to," you continued, "I will."

"Yes," he answered quickly, "yes, please— you can— yeah, touch me however you want."

You ran your hand over his chest first, then down his stomach; when you just barely ran the tips of your fingers over his cock through the jeans, he jolted. His hips rocked in search of more friction, more pressure, from your hand, and his mouth let out a whimper-y sigh. Smiling up at him, you pressed firmer against the bulge under his fly. "How long has it been?" you asked sweetly.

"Y-years, maybe, I dunno," he mumbled— he couldn't remember anything from before this moment anyways.

"Oh, sweetheart," you cooed pityingly. "That's not right. I figured you didn't have any trouble, you're so cute..."

He whined through his teeth. "Y-you're so pretty, so fucking pretty," he rushed out quickly. "God, can I kiss you?"

Instead of answering, you smiled and leaned forward to kiss him yourself. He grabbed your face right away, overwhelmed by the softness of your lips, the sweetness of your tongue, the way your hand explored more confidently over his erection.

And then you rubbed your palm on him as your fingers slid down to cup his balls, at the same time you playfully bit his bottom lip. Turns out, that was all he could take; with a groan into your mouth, he came in his jeans.

Your eyes went wide as you felt his cock flexing, watched his face that went slack and turned bright red as his sticky come started to stain the denim and ruin his boxers. "Billy!" you exclaimed in shock, biting your lip as you looked at him.

He whined and tightened his face up, dropping his head onto your shoulder and holding on tightly to your waist. "M'sorry, so fuckin' sorry, couldn't help it," he rushed out, "you're just so—"

"That's so hot," you groaned, holding on tightly to his shirt as you stared up at him with the most hungry look in your eyes. "You just came in your jeans, over me? Oh my god that's hot. Fuck."

He was totally speechless. What was there to say? Clearly this was some hallucination or fantasy come to life or something, and at this point, he was just happy to let it happen.

"I changed my mind," you grinned, "you shouldn't come to the club with my mates and I— all the girls will want you, Billy, and I can't have that. I'm keeping you all for myself."

That's all I ever wanted, he thought.

"My bed's bigger," you smiled up at him as you pet his exposed chest again, eyes getting a little glassy, "we should go there."

You took his hand and guided him across the apartment— him and his cock that had managed to find renewed interest in this even after just coming so quickly. "What... what are we gonna do there?" he asked sheepishly, convinced what he was imagining was too good to be true.

"Clean up that mess you made," you promised with a wink, "and then make a new one."

[moodywyrm]

K sorry ignore me I’m streaming my entire consciousness for you here moons

Ellie, on the other hand, (walking in on the same scenario), it’s not that she doesn’t care (the opposite!!) it’s just she’s so painfully awkward, she doesn’t know how to handle it almost? Obviously the longer you’re together, the better she gets as she learns what you need, but she’d frown and walk over, gently stroking your hair with a soft “hey babe” that one scene with Dina nobody talk to me and would immediately crawl into bed with you. If you start crying she’d probably tease you (lovingly) and be all “aw my girl’s so soft hm? My little crybaby. That’s it, let it all out”:( and if you’re extra moody, whereas I can see Abby more just ignoring this or giving you a gentle “come on babe don’t be like that”, ellie would laugh. She think you look extra cute when you’re all >:/ she just can’t help but pinch your cheeks with a big grin or ruffle your hair or something. I think there would be a bit of a learning curve if you’re a little extra sensitive, maybe one of her usual silly jests would send you into a puddle of tears, and she’s like ??? cause usually you’d laugh and give it right back to her, so she has to learn to be a little extra gentle with you. That being said, she’d do just about anything to make you laugh, a light “there’s my smiley girl” when she finally coaxes a giggle out of you I’m crying

in the wise wise words of jj, the ppl who are crybabies on their period please rise.

it's me, im the crybaby on my period. Ellie with a gf who is just extra teary n sensitive on her period is so cute to think about. because she is so fucking awkward!! I love Ellie so so much but baby is incredibly awkward when it comes to handling emotions, even her crying girlfriend.

she's such a sweetheart though :(

she’d frown and walk over, gently stroking your hair with a soft “hey babe” that one scene with Dina nobody talk to me and would immediately crawl into bed with you.

she would!!! that little "hey babe" lives in my head rent free, it's so sweet and gentle and soooo Ellie. gonna make this a modern au bc I honestly do not want to write a period during the apocalypse rn.

somehow it always happens that Ellie is working or in class when your cramps hit :( she gets your first text telling her you got cramps like midway through her shift and she's so upset that she can't just go home and comfort you then and there. you update her when you're not incapacitated by pain or asleep, but it's hours before she can get home.

on her way home she drops by the store to pick up your favorite snacks and comfort items, literally approaches this trip with militant efficiency. get in get out, and she does!

when she gets home she's immediately in the bedroom, throwing off her jackets and shoes and sitting next to you at the edge the bed. literally just sitting there, going "hey babe" and stroking your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you up to the bathroom.

bc of course she does my favorite period trope: helping your partner into the shower! I feel like you two wouldn't actually shower together during your periods, but she'd sit there while you shower and you'd sit there while she showers. or, alternatively, you'd wash off first and then Ellie would join you. not because I think she's afraid of blood or anything, but she wants you to be as comfortable as possible, and that includes not having to deal with the mental ahhh of getting blood on your partner. anyways yall get nice and clean and she proceeds to help you get dressed, putting lotion on you and otherwise taking care of you.

she holds your lower tummy for the rest of the night, massaging it in a way that feels heavenly <3 she's honestly so cute and sweet im >:(

as for the rest of your period, she 100% does some gentle teasing, calling you her little crybaby while also doing pretty much everything for you. suddenly she's a fucking Chef, cooking you all of your comfort food and/or picking up the Good Shit (burgers) from Joel's place. she may be a lil meanie about it, but she's also unbelievably caring during your period <3

[saintship]

I’m not really sure how to do requests because I always get nervous but headcanons for COD characters helping reader on their period? 🙏

You’re totally good, thank you for writing me!

I love this request as well—I’m going to keep it sfw because the other side of this topic is a whole other post in itself!

Soap 🧼

- Very attentive

- “You alright?” “What do you need?” “Anything at all?” “Just holler, ya hear?”

- Bath guy for SURE

- Runs one with a gentle body wash for the bubbles after you inform him ‘REAL soap down there will give me a UTI.’

- ‘Ironic, aye?”

- ‘You’re an animal.’

- Back rub connoisseur

- If you bleed on anything of his, he makes sure you know he will never be angry at you for something you can’t help

- Might need some directing on how to properly wash the sheets though

- If you need to be held he’s there, sweetheart’s cradle is his go to bc it lets him massage the sore muscles of your stomach

-And wrap both arms around you so you can rest the side of your head on his bicep AUGH

- Love him sm

Ghost 🔦

- In my mind this could go two ways

- 1. Clueless/doesn’t know how to ask the questions he has, though willing to learn

- 2. So comfortable with it it’s almost medical—he’s a soldier, he’s not going to let a human function throw him off

- 1. Is more likely to be reality but for this I’ll indulge

- In a relationship I get the vibe he hesitates before performing any act of affection, as if he’s afraid someone will ambush him the moment he closes his eyes

- But if you’re in pain and you reach for him it is 0 hesitation, he’s immediately behind you wrapping an arm around your middle to hold you close and say sweet things into your hair

- Any embarrassment by bleeding on sheets, his clothes you borrowed, etc is shut down

- ‘A period ain’t what’s gonna kill me after all these years, love. It’s natural.’

- Strikes me as more of a sit next to the bath rather than with you in the water the way Soap might

- Likes to wash your back and hair, rinse the suds off, wrap you in a towel, and so on

Gaz 🧢

- Absolute sweetheart

- But so stupid

- Flabbergasted when you explain how tampons are really used (he had no fucking clue), and if you have a diva cup, you might as well have just shown him theoretical physics

- ‘So, do you need—chocolate? Or anything?’

‘Just stay here?’

‘That sounds good.’

- Rubs your shoulders and neck while pressing kisses to the skin exposed

- If you bleed on something he needs a minute to Google a few things but then reassures you, already in the process of replacing the sheets so you can get back in bed as soon as possible

- Loverboy <333

Price 🪙

- By far the most experienced; you hardly need to teach him anything as the other women in his life have already taught him a lot

- ‘Darling, I’m a grown man. You don’t need to feel ashamed for anything, it’s your body.”

‘I just-'

‘Ah- none of that. C’mere.”

- Bear hugs and that type of cuddling where you face each other

- Rubs your back until you fall asleep, humming something I think

- Yes he hums tunes

- Runs you a bath with a glass of wine and sits with you, one hand massaging the shoulder closest to him

- If you bleed on anything of his, it’s not a big deal whatsoever

- Makes a place for you on the couch while he does the laundry

- Soothes any remarks from you with a slow kiss that he knows will have you unable to speak for a few moments

Alejandro 🥀

- Smooth man

- Also experienced, almost confused if you’re embarrassed

- ‘What’s wrong? There is nothing to be ashamed of, mi vida.’

- Sings softly to you while he holds you

- ‘No Hay Novedad’ :,,,)

- Or just the tune of a song he enjoyed as a child

- Sits in the bath with you, whispering vulgar sweet things into your ear when you rest your head by his neck

- Kisses to the back of your neck

- Reassurance comes first if you’re embarrassed after bleeding on something, doesn’t want to rush to get rid of it

- ‘This is your body—my second home. How could I be angry at that?’

- Shirtless, sleepy Alejandro reassuring you

- I need a minute

König ⛰️

- Periods are quite a taboo subject in Austria/Germany, as it is in most of the world, but I feel like he never understood the stigma

- He tells you about his classmates who he knew were deeply ashamed of their periods, in an effort to make you feel less alone

- So gentle

- Massages, kisses, caressing your cheeks or waist, he’s like an ocean wave

- Has you sit with your back to him in the tub while he sits on the floor, letting his hands wander and muttering how beautiful you are in German

- Lets you ‘human blanket’ him, sprawled across his massive form

- Admits he likes the pressure

- Wraps strong arms around you and holds, grounding you to him

- If you bleed on his sheets and you’re embarrassed/frustrated, he makes a point to leave the bloody sheets until morning, holding your face in his hands while he assures you it’s okay

Graves 🪖

- Ok

- We all know how this would go in canon

- BUT THIS AINT CANON

- For real though, if he was taught REAL southern values, he’d know how to act

- Physically soothing, running his thumbs over your cheekbones or his hands over your sides, a squeeze to your knee, watching you relax under his hands

- Practically never leaves your side if you let him, you being in his eyeline is reassuring

- Flowers. Totally gets you fucking flowers dear god

- Similar to Alejandro if you bleed on his sheets

- ‘Honey, you got nothin’ to be embarrassed about. I know you can’t control it.”

- Runs his fingers through your hair while you rest your head on his chest and hold his middle

- Will get in the bath with you if you ask, holding you with your back to his chest and kissing at the skin of your neck

- Gets a glass of wine for you and a beer for him

- Won’t object to a bath make out session

- All the southern drawl

- Breaks his heart to see you cry even if you assure him it’s your hormones kicking your ass

- Can’t stand to see your teary face so he holds you to his chest

- ‘I’m here, babydoll, I’m here..’

‘It’s stupid..’

‘Not to me.’

This was a lot of fun :>

[turning-the-kaleidoscope]

Protective hug with Reigen and one of the kids?

this got so out of hand. so out of hand. thank you so much for the prompt! <3 i really went. frickng. this is 8.6k. but I’m really really happy with how it turned out! <3 ty again for the prompt

- future fic bc I love post canon potential, protective reigen, Teruki’s parents are the worst, heavily implied child abuse/neglect (not pictured), etc. married terumob at the forefront with backburner married serirei. because I’m a sap. everyone is protective of teruki and shigeo.

hope you enjoy! my formatting broke while copy/pasting to tumblr shdjkfsdf so here’s the AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43243897

~*~*~*~*~

Reigen is balanced precariously on his hand-me-down stepladder replacing the blinds when Teruki bursts into the office with a sound like a gunshot and nearly vaults Reigen to his death.

“Teruk—!” Reigen yowls, flailing. He's lucky enough that the blinds had already been secured to the window—he grabs ahold of the rail and steadies himself, then hops down the three steps to the floor. "Holy shit, don't do that to me—”

Teruki's across the room before Reigen's collected himself. His hands chain around Reigen's arm and the fear in his eyes brands straight to Reigen's soul.

“She found us,” Teruki blurts. “She knows where we live, Reigen, she—” 

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Heat rips through Reigen's chest. Teruki is twenty six years old and all Reigen sees behind those eyes is a scared child. “Who found out where—” 

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Shit,” Reigen says out loud. He grips Teruki by the shoulders to hold him steady. Not even Claw could make Teruki tremble like this. “What happened? Are you and Shigeo okay?”

“We’re okay,” Teruki stammers. His gaze flickers around like he's expecting someone to hurt him. “Shigeo got the door, but she knew who he was and I never even told her I was gay. How did she know who he was? How did she know—” 

This has been the one lingering fear that has followed Teruki every year of his life. Claw has come and gone. Natural disaster has come and gone. But his parents—somehow they’ve managed to cling like the roaches they are, digging their grimy hands into whatever good things Teruki builds for himself.

Not this. Not fucking this. 

“I don’t know how much she knows,” Teruki says. “He told her off but she said she’s going to come back. What are we supposed to do when she comes back?”

Reigen hugs him. It feels like what Teruki needs. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says. The rage within him seethes and bleeds into the ferocity of the hug, but he can’t do anything about it. “She doesn’t get to do this.”

Teruki hugs him. Reigen’s hug is angry; Teruki’s hug is afraid. “What are we supposed to do? She hasn’t done anything for years, if we take it to the police—”

“She’s done enough.”

“We can’t prove anything.”

“We can try.”

“Shigeo answered the door,” Teruki says halfway through his second cup of tea. 

Reigen stops fidgeting with the blinds to join Teruki at the couches, sitting across from him. Teruki has been mostly silent thus far, breathing and sipping tea while recollecting his bearings. The sign on the door has been flipped to Closed. 

“He told me he’d handle it,” Teruki goes on, “but I didn’t like the thought of him being alone with her. I don’t. So I went with him.”

Reigen nods. He’s trying to keep things comfortable for Teruki’s sake, but anticipation gnaws. “What did she want?”

Teruki leans back. He swishes his tea and watches it until it’s still again. “... Apparently she and my father got divorced,” he says. “I figured it’s been coming for years, but she picked a weird time to tell me.”

“Yeah. Sounds like manipulation to me.”

Teruki’s smile is bitter. “That’s what Shigeo said.”

“What about your dad? What’s up with him?”

Teruki shrugs. “I’ve met him maybe… twice? He was always away when I was growing up. I don’t know if he ever wanted to be a father in the first place.” Teruki swirls his tea again. “They had to sell the house after the divorce, so she’s living alone just outside of the city. She gave us her address in case we wanted to… visit. I guess? She said she wanted to ‘reconnect’. Not apologize, just reconnect.” 

“What’s she expecting? A family reunion?”

Teruki huffs. It’s the first smile that’s seemed at all real since he got here. “Shige’s family would tear her apart. Ritsu’s been wanting to for years.” 

Reigen can empathize.

Teruki reaches the bottom of his mug and settles it on the coffee table between them. “Sorry,” Teruki says. His eyes are red, and he sniffs while he tucks loose hair back into place. “I appreciate you letting me stay for a while. Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Reigen says. He hates that he can’t do more. “Do you guys have a game plan? What are you gonna do?”

“We’re going to file for a restraining order,” Teruki answers. “I hoped she would leave me alone once I was an adult, and I probably would’ve been okay with never pressing charges as long as she just… stayed away. But now she’s— stalking us. Enough that she knows where we live and who Shigeo is. If she’s willing to go that far, I don’t know what else she’s capable of.”

“Yeah, no, that makes sense.” Especially after a divorce. Knowing what he does about Teruki’s parents, it probably wasn’t a clean break. “And I meant what I said about security cameras. You and Shigeo already have a bunch of them outside, don’t you? Do they record audio?”

“Not yet. Shigeo’s getting those installed today.” Teruki rubs his arms. “I feel bad for leaving him at the house alone, but… I just, needed some time away after she was there.”

The wrath is back. That this person is managing to make Teruki feel unsafe after all these years is despicable, much less in his own home that he’s built for himself with his husband.

“Shigeo understands,” Reigen says. “It probably gave him some time to regain his bearings. You know how he is. Just call the police if she starts snooping around the place again, alright? I mean that. And call me, too.”

“Yeah.” Teruki grabs his shoulderbag. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Reigen nods. He jots a mental note: make sure Shigeo still has that spare key to the office. Teruki and Shigeo have a litany of places to hide out before the office, but if they need somewhere last second that’s completely detached from friends and family, Spirits and Such isn’t a bad choice. 

Teruki leaves with a short and tired goodbye and Reigen watches the sidewalk from the window. Once he sees Teruki turn the corner on the curb, he drops the blinds and locks up for the night.

Then he calls Shigeo.

He gets a single ring in before Shigeo picks up. “I almost killed someone today.”

“Yeah.” Reigen runs a hand through his hair. “How literal is that?”

Shigeo dodges that question like it’s a landmine. “I recognized her,” he says. “And she—somehow recognized me. I thought I could just tell her off and it would be over, but then she started talking about him and—” Shigeo heaves in a deep breath. “I told him not to follow me. He didn’t listen. How much did he tell you?”

“Just that she was trying to guilt trip him with the whole ‘divorce’ thing,” Reigen says. “And that you were pissed.”

“I still am. She gave me—she gave me her address. I almost—” Another very, very deep breath. “Reigen.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it too much.” Reigen doesn’t know what he would do if he ever met Teruki’s parents, but he’d probably end up with a fun story to tell his roommate in jail. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if it were me. It sounds like you held it together pretty well, all things considered.” 

“She knows I’m married to him,” Shigeo says. “How does she know who I am?”

“What about social media? You guys kind of keep up with that, don’t you?”

“We do, but our accounts are private. She shouldn’t be able to see anything, not unless she’s getting updates through somebody else.”

“Gotcha.” Reigen could punch a wall. “Damn it. Teruki talked to me, but have you talked to anyone?”

“I talked to Ritsu. He told our parents. They’re upset.”

Teruki’s parents set off an airhorn in the lion’s den with the Kageyama family alone. Ritsu is fiercely protective of his brother and subsequent brother-in-law, and the Kageyamas are fiercely protective of their sons and subsequent son-in-law.

“I also went to the gym for a few hours after I got the security cameras fixed.”

“Well, good.” The concept of that makes Reigen want to die a little, but weight training has been a good outlet for Shigeo’s overwhelming mental state over the years. “Are you home now?”

“Mm. I got takeout from Teru’s favorite restaurant, but I don’t know how much he’s going to eat.”

“Makes sense. I know you’re already going to, but make sure he eats something.”

“I will. I’m glad he talked to you. I have to call Ritsu back, he’s going to help me get the motion light installed tomorrow.”

“Alright. Oh—however much you paid for dinner, let me know. I’ll reimburse you.”

“What? No, you couldn’t…”

“I haven’t treated you kids to ramen in years, this ain’t gonna break the bank. Just text me. And don’t tell Teruki until you really feel like it.”

“… Okay. Thank you, Shishou.”

It’s no use telling Shigeo not to call him that. He already knows—now, the kid just saves it for nostalgia and the verbal equivalent of a hug or a promise, which is ridiculous but also makes Reigen emotional if he thinks too hard about it. Being fourty does that to a person, maybe. 

“Call the police if you get suspicious.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Call me too. I want dibs.”

“Family first. But you can deal with the leftovers.”

“Well, I suppose that’s only fair. Nothing hurts more than rubbing salt in the wounds.”

Shigeo kind of laughs. It’s as much of a laugh as he’s going to get out of the kid given the situation. “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing.”

Shigeo hangs up. Reigen packs up the office and calls Katsuya on his way home.

Shigeo is seated on the couch with a book, still bristling, when Teruki walks through the door of their home. 

Shigeo tries to shove his anger aside because Teruki has never liked seeing Shigeo upset, but this is one emotion he can’t stuff, and Teruki doesn’t like it when Shigeo stuffs emotions either. Maybe it’s better that Shigeo doesn’t pretend everything is okay.  

“Hey,” Teruki says, letting his shoulderbag slip to the floor.

“Hi,” Shigeo says. “I got takeout for dinner. You should eat something, even if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, uh.” Teruki laughs, a little nervous and a lot ashamed. “I’ll do what I can. Thanks.”

Shigeo nods. He puts his book off to the side and drops his legs, opening up his arms. He makes grabby hands at his husband. “Come here.”

Teruki exhales deeply. He kicks off his shoes on his way over to the couch and collapses into Shigeo’s chest. Shigeo wraps his arms around Teruki’s head and hooks his ankles over the backs of Teru’s knees, wishing he were tall enough to envelop him completely. He draws his aura around them both and pours as much safety and as much love into it as he can. 

Teruki knows that Shigeo loves him and would protect him, but he has to feel it. 

Teruki’s arms slip under Shigeo’s back as he hugs him, too. His coiled-up aura unfurls against Shigeo’s, scared and stressed but trusting. Shigeo reaches for it with a thought. 

“St-Stop,” Teruki gets out weakly, even as he burrows into Shigeo’s hoodie. Shigeo frowns, confused. “Y—You’re gonna make me cry, Shige.”

Shigeo presses deeper. It’s not fair, but he couldn’t possibly pull away. Teruki hiccups and clutches the back of his shirt. 

“This is your home,” Shigeo says. His heart feels fierce, but broken, and he tries to keep his voice steady for Teru. “She doesn’t get to take your home away from you. I won’t let her.”

Teruki’s tears seep through Shigeo’s hoodie, next to his heart. “God.” He laughs wetly and brings a hand up to cover his face. “I thought I could hold it together longer than this.”

“I’m not really going to let you do that, either.”

Teruki huffs. Shigeo lets his aura bleed into Teruki’s and runs his fingers through his blond hair until the jitters in Teru’s aura soften into a thrum. It’s still more sensitive than his bassline, but no longer as frightened.

“… Thank you,” Teruki says. Shigeo nods. “Have—… Did she come back?”

“No. I would have told you if she did.”

“Right. I, um. I’ve been thinking about getting a hotel for tonight. My head’s spinning.”

“Would a hotel really help?”

“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt to try.”

“I think it might,” Shigeo admits quietly. “I—I want you to feel safe, Teru, but I don’t want our home to be a place you run away from. Your mom can’t take this home away from you.”

“I know, but…” Teruki trails, then sighs, curling his knees against Shigeo’s ribs. “Maybe I don’t know.”

“I’m here, too,” Shigeo reminds him. “As long as I’m here you’ll never have to see her.”

“I don’t want you near her, either, Shige.” Teruki’s fingers press over Shigeo’s heart. “I don’t want her anywhere near you.”

“I’ll keep a barrier up. We have plenty of cameras and Ritsu is going to help us with motion lights. If we’re here, then we’re home. She can’t touch us here.”

“Nothing’s ever stopped her before,” Teruki croaks. His aura is starting to crumple again. Shigeo presses him closer. 

“You were alone before,” Shigeo says. 

Shigeo’s phone rings. Teruki flinches and Shigeo smooths his hand over Teruki’s shoulder-length hair as he digs his phone out of his back pocket.

“It’s my mom,” Shigeo says. 

Teruki relaxes and Shigeo answers. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi Mom,” Teruki says loudly. 

“My boys,” Mom says. Her smile is just as audible as her concern. “Are you two home?” 

“We’re home, why?” 

There's a knock at the door and no question as to who’s behind it. Teruki huffs incredulously as he slides off of Shigeo and Shigeo gets to his feet. They head to the door together and Shigeo pulls it open. 

Mom yanks Teruki into her arms the second she gets a visual on him. 

Teruki hardly has the chance to jump before he realizes what’s going on and he’s sinking into her embrace. He’s taller than her, but he finds a way to press his face into her shoulder while she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Oh, Teru,” Mom whispers.

Teruki’s arms squeeze around her shoulders.

This is how it should be. It should be like this when mothers come to visit. 

It was not like this when Teruki’s mother showed up. She spoke in clipped and entitled tones with condescending words—she singled him out as her son in law and he loathed it. She called Teruki her son and herself his mother and he saw red. He told her to leave and she asked what gave him the right. That she has the right to see her son and that he has no right to keep her away.

“It’s going to be okay, love,” Mom murmurs, hugging Teru close. “We’ll figure this out.”

Teruki nods and steps back only to be met with an armful of Ritsu, despite Ritsu’s reluctance initiating physical touch. Teruki returns the hug with a joke about Ritsu’s height. Ritsu scowls but stays right where he is.

This is how family should be. Family should be like this, not like—

Mom locks Shigeo into an iron hug. It’s parental and full, but a different hug than the hug she gave Teruki. This hug digs into Shigeo’s heart like an elbow in the ribs. It grounds him. 

She’s angry, too.

“We’re going to solve this,” Mom whispers into his hair. “I promise. That woman isn’t going to lay a finger on Teruki.”

Shigeo wraps her up with his arms and his aura. He nods. 

Teruki’s mother told him that they have no right to keep her away.

Soon they’ll have the right to keep her away.

“We just need witnesses,” Tome says. “That’s it, right? She’s already a disgusting person, all we need is a way to prove it and get that restraining order.”

“It’s not that simple,” Serizawa says, watching her pace around the office. “She could contest the restraining order. The court doesn’t have to grant it if they can’t find a genuine cause.”

“So we prove it,” Tome reiterates, stopping in front of him and pivoting fully to make her point. “We get whatever evidence we’ve got lying around and drop the gaffle on her ass.”

“You can do all sorts of stuff in court if you know the system,” Reigen says, folding his hands. “Teruki and Shigeo don’t have a chance if she hires some skeezy lawyer who knows their stuff.” 

He thinks twice. Teruki said his mother’s living in an apartment outside of the city… Reigen lived in an apartment outside the city until he and Katsuya were able to afford a larger one together closer to the office. Any apartment that far out is cramped and cheap and doesn’t at all suit the lifestyle Teruki described of his mother.

He wonders how much money Teruki’s father walked away with in the divorce. Maybe she couldn’t hire a lawyer.

Tome throws her hands into the air. “Okay, so whatever. Teruki’s mom can’t win. She can’t win.”

Katsuya interjects. “As much as I understand the urgency,” he says, “going before a judge is not black and white. Especially not in family court.” 

“Besides, Teruki and Shigeo haven’t even decided how they wanna handle it yet,” Reigen butts in when Tome opens her mouth to argue. She’d make a good judge if she ever decides anthropology isn’t her thing. “We should wait to hear from them. There are plenty of ways to go about this.”

“They may even try going through the esper division of law,” Serizawa adds. “Shigeo mentioned looking into that. The only qualm is that this mother isn’t an esper, but they could still have it settled in a hybrid court. Especially since Shigeo is also an esper.”

“Wait, I didn’t know about that part.” Reigen spins the chair around toward Katsuya. “What the hell is a hybrid court?”

“I’m not sure myself. Shigeo said he’s looking into it. I think Shou is helping.”

Tome drops onto the coffee table with a groan. “I guess that checks out. Shou’s mom sort of had to deal with that when his dad went off the rails. But how’s that work when the espers are the ones wanting the protective order?”

“That’s why they want to involve the esper legal system,” Serizawa says. If Tome’s anger is problem solving and Reigen’s anger is cheshire smiles, then Serizawa’s anger is something quiet and very, very dangerous. “It’s the only way to ensure that she doesn’t try and flip this back on Teruki.”

“Right.” Reigen puts his head in his hands. The thought of his mom somehow finding a way to blame Teruki for all of the abuse makes him want to throw up. And punch a wall. “Damn esper descrimination.”

Tome looks disgusted. “That’s a thing?”  

“After the Claw shitshow, yeah.”

“How the shit—she’s gonna spin this like it’s Teruki’s fault?” 

“We don’t know that she would,” Reigen says. “And could you get off the coffee table? The hell do I have couches for.”

Tome kicks her feet up onto the table in defiance. “So what? Do we just sit around and wait for something to happen? I hate that.”

Reigen hates it, too. “Teruki and Shigeo are still figuring out how they want to handle this. If they go for a permanent protective order, they’re gonna need evidence. That’s step one.”

“Alright, evidence.” Tome leaps up and finally leaves Reigen’s coffee table alone. “I’ll talk to Shou and see if we can scrape anything up records-wise. He’s always down to clown on shitty parents.”

“Don’t do anything illegal.”

“You’re the one person who doesn’t get to tell me that. That woman’s got a lot of nerve messing with my boys. She can’t win.”

She shuts the door behind her. Reigen hangs his head. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Katsuya says. Stupid husband telepathy or whatever the hell. “Once Teruki and Shigeo decide how they want to handle this, I’m sure they’ll let us know if there's anything we can do to help.”

Reigen sighs. He can’t argue with that, and frankly doesn’t want to. “Right. Wanna go get ramen?”

Katsuya grabs his coat.

Teruki and Shigeo are set up on the couch with a dusty cardboard box sitting open on the coffee table. Teruki flicks through loose polaroids and album sleeves. Shigeo sorts with him.

“This one’s an option,” Teruki says, carefully drawing a photo from its lamination. He’s so young in these pictures—he can’t even remember when or where most of them were taken. Empty memories. “You can, ah… tell I wasn’t being taken very good care of.”

Shigeo looks at the photo over Teru’s shoulder. It’s objectively not a bad picture, Teruki just looks… sad, and thin, and there's a bruise on his head. He looks maybe five or six, which means he was actually seven or eight, and he’s holding his mother’s hand. It might've been the last time he ever held her hand.

“You’re so small,” Shigeo says with no air. 

Teruki blows all the air out of his own lungs and leans back. “Yeah. It’s good evidence, though, right?”

He hates the smile that claws its way onto his face, all muscle-memory. Shigeo hates that he smiles when he’s trying to hide something. Teruki hasn’t slipped into the bad habit this instinctively in years. 

Shigeo reaches for the photo. He stares intensely at it for long enough that Teruki feels self-conscious. “Did—” Shigeo pauses. “The bruise,” he says. “Did your mom…?”

“What? Oh.” Shigeo’s stress is making more sense. “Maybe once or twice? It didn’t happen a lot.”

“So she did.”

“Not often.” Teruki doesn’t have vivid memories of being hit. He has vivid memories of her voice and her damn words, and maybe being cornered in the middle of it. “I was mainly just left alone a lot growing up, and it was around the time Claw started catching onto me. She was way more into pretending I didn’t exist.”

Shigeo nods, stiff, and when he doesn’t stop staring at the photo Teruki reaches over and takes it out of his hands. He isn’t trying to upset Shigeo anymore than he already has, and in all honesty seeing his own face like that for too long is dragging up drowned memories. He doesn’t want to think about any of this.

He settles the photo onto an empty patch of coffee table. “Evidence pile,” Teruki says. 

He hates every part of this. 

Why’d he even keep the stupid cardboard box? Nostalgic childhood nothings, loose photos, the methodical albums his mother was so particular about keeping as he grew up. She always was particular about her image. He can’t say he grew up much different, but he’s not the person he used to be. When she kicked him out of her home he stole her precious albums to take with him, both to spite and remember her.

He still remembers the way she held his hand in that picture. It wasn’t because she wanted to. 

“What if it’s not enough?” Teruki whispers. 

“We might not even need so much evidence to get the temporary protective order,” Shigeo tells him. “Especially since the esper court is getting involved. They’re familiar with Claw. The fact that your mother abandoned you when she knew you were being hunted isn’t something they’ll let slip.”

Teruki takes an enormous breath. “Yeah.” God, his lungs hurt. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” His head hurts, too. “I, ah, I have a couple bills that accidentally showed up at my old apartment instead of my parents’ house. It should be enough to prove she had me living alone as a pre-teen.”

Shigeo nods. “You have her text messages, too. We have enough. It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah.” Teruki breathes and this time it aches instead of burns. “Thanks. I know this is a lot.”

“It’ll be over soon.” 

Teruki feels a little better after that. He finds a couple more pictures of himself as a child and even some he took of his apartment when he first moved in. Shigeo brews a fresh pot of tea while Teruki digs around in his old filing cabinet for those old bills. By the end of the night, well past ten o’clock, they’ve assembled a small arsenal of evidence to be taken to the court house first thing in the morning. 

After changing into comfortable clothes, Teruki scrolls through his phone while Shigeo brushes his teeth. Teruki thinks it takes longer than usual, but he’s on-edge, so it’s more likely that he’s reading into things he shouldn’t. Shigeo turns out the light on his way to bed. Teruki sets his alarm. Shigeo curls up on his side of the bed, taking half the comforter with him as normal. Teruki runs warm, so it’s alright. 

Realistically, he won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.

Shigeo stretches over to kiss his temple. “Goodnight.”

Teruki kisses the top of his head. “Sleep well.” 

Shigeo rolls onto his side and Teruki watches the ceiling. It’s a still evening, a mute note in the air. Shigeo shifts a little. Teruki takes a couple deep breaths. 

Shigeo shifts again. Then again. His breath hitches.

“Shige?” Teruki reaches for him, with his aura first and then with his hand. “Are you okay?” 

Shigeo fails to stifle a brittle sob. 

Teruki is more alert now than he was seeing his mother’s face at their door.

“Hey.” Teruki gets in close. He searches blindly for Shigeo’s hand and slots their fingers together when he finds it. “What’s going on?”

Shigeo’s shoulders shudder. He presses Teruki’s hand to his lips, taking thin breaths. “You were so small,” Shigeo whispers, the tremors reaching his voice. “Why would anyone—how could anyone hurt you like that? Y-You were— Teru.”

Teruki’s gut wraps itself up in one giant knot. He shouldn’t have let Shigeo see the pictures—or at least he should’ve been more aware of how it would affect him. He wraps his arms around Shigeo’s stomach and tugs him back against his chest, not sure of what else to do. Shigeo doesn’t relax into him, nor does he pull away. His breaths rattle over Teruki’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Shige.”

“I’m mad,” Shigeo snaps. “And—...”

Teruki wishes he could see his husband’s face. He hates the part of him that’s relieved he can’t see his husband’s face. He squeezes Shigeo closer and Shigeo’s turbulent breaths dissolve into hiccupping sobs.

“You were so small,” Shigeo hitches. “Y-You were so small.”  

Teruki wants to take all the things that make Shigeo cry and rip them apart. He never wanted to be one of them.

“It’s okay,” Teruki says.

Shigeo snarls. “No it’s not.” 

“Sorry, that’s—that’s not what I meant. I’m okay. Okay?” He doesn’t feel very okay, but he doesn’t feel like it’s a lie either. Shigeo is rigid against him, heaving like a board refusing to buckle in a hurricane, and Teruki threads his fingers through Shigeo’s hair. “Let me hold you.”

“I should be doing that,” Shigeo bites, his voice wet. “I should be the one holding you.”

“You have been, Shige.” Teruki draws his fingers across Shigeo’s scalp, tracing his hairline. “You always do. Please.” 

Shigeo sobs. 

Teruki curbstomps his panic and buries his face against the top of Shigeo’s head, smoothing his hair repeatedly. Shigeo finally sinks back into him but the stress in his chest won’t let him relax, and Teruki hates that this isn’t a problem he can solve.

But Shigeo is letting him hold him.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into Shigeo’s hair. “Shh. We’re okay.”

He can’t remember the last time Shigeo cried like this. The occasions are few and far between and Teruki never knows what to do with his voice. His hands keep Shigeo close. Both of Shigeo’s hands clutch one of Teruki’s against his face and hot tears run over their knuckles. 

“S’Sorry,” Shigeo whispers through his tears, hoarse. “I’m sorry, Teruki.”

Teruki nuzzles the top of his head and squeezes his eyes shut when the burn turns scorching. “Don’t apologize. I don’t mind.”

Shigeo twists around to bury himself in Teruki’s chest, then he cries until he falls asleep.

The courthouse opens at nine o’clock the following morning. Teruki and Shigeo are downtown by eight fifty. Teruki speaks with the clerk and hands over the forums he filled in advance. 

The esper division of law is going to get involved. 

Shigeo isn’t as upset as he was yesterday, but the tension never left. He was tense even as he slept. If Teruki weren’t so strung-up himself he would be able to comfort him better. 

The esper court takes over as soon as Teruki brings up having been hunted by Claw as a child. 

It makes him sick that his mother’s threatening text messages are somehow more relevant evidence than the pictures of him as a child, given how Shigeo reacted.

That his mother is stalking him to the point of showing up at his home does not look good for her.

The temporary protective order is granted.

Teruki and Shigeo take a taxi home late evening with a yellow folder between them, a court date ahead of them and Teruki’s hand in Shigeo’s. 

“I’m going for a walk,” Shigeo says as soon as they’re through the door. He doesn’t ask if Teruki wants to join him, so this is probably a subtle way of telling Teruki he needs time alone. Teruki nods and hangs up his coat as Shigeo pivots back out the door. Teruki slides all the locks into place.

He gets the tea kettle boiling. The folder sits on their dining table, which has seen less use than their coffee table this week. Teruki stalls by glancing about his and Shigeo’s home. Humbly furnished and full of pictures; a few fingerprints in the paint courtesy of Tome and Shou; the bougie coffee maker as a wedding gift from Reigen and Serizawa; his mother-in-law’s choice of cutlery and his father-in-law’s electric mixer; fridge magnets that Ritsu mailed while he was off at college. 

That’s not all. He could look at anything in this home and tie it back to somebody precious in his life. This home is made of connections and promises and it’s Teruki’s and Shigeo’s and whoever else they welcome into it.

Teruki cuts the heat when the kettle whistles. He grabs his phone from the living room.

Reigen’s stepping into his and Katsuya’s apartment when his phone goes off. Some fumbling and light switching and shoes-kicking later, he gets through the door and answers the phone. Katsuya’s shoes are already here and the light’s on in the living room.

“Heya,” Reigen says, starting down the hall.

“Do you wanna serve my mom the restraining order?” 

“Heya?” 

“We got the temporary restraining order today,” Teruki says. “We have a court date, but she needs to be served before that can happen.” 

“Oh damn.” 

Katsuya looks over from the couch in the living room with a question and concern. Reigen waves a hand and Katsuya nods, understanding. He’ll explain after the call. “When’s the court date?”

“November seventeenth.”

“Gotcha.” Reigen hugs the phone between his cheek and shoulder, tearing a post-it note from the fridge to write on. “So, listen, as satisfying as that sounds, are you sure Shigeo doesn’t want to do it? Or I guess maybe that’s not allowed depending on what’s in the order. What about Ritsu?”  

“We talked about it. Shigeo could, but we think it’s for the best that you do it. If you’re willing, we’d love to give you the honor.” 

“... Well. In that case, gimme a time and place.”

Teruki gives him a time and place.

Friday, because she told Shigeo and Teruki that she would be at her apartment on Fridays if they ever want to ‘stop by’, and she’s located about where Reigen assumed. A tiny studio apartment on the outskirts of Seasoning City. A dank ride through a cheap train and a long walk through cold wind and autumn leaves. 

Reigen double-triple-quadruple checked the proof-of document to be filed once Teruki’s mother has been served, and Katsuya and Tome looked over it for him. So did the Kageyamas sans Teruki.

Hanazawa Eiko is the woman’s name. Reigen only learned that recently.

Instincts say he’s the wrong person to handle this sort of legal jargon, but he’s determined not to be. This is for Teruki and Shigeo. People usually hire lawyers or mediators to do this stuff because it’s easy to get wrong. Reigen refuses to get it wrong. 

He knocks on the door of apartment 417 and stands back and waits. The envelope is worth its weight in tears. The doorknob rattles. Then turns. 

Then he’s staring into the face of Hanazawa Eiko. 

She looks nothing like Teruki from her brown hair to her brown eyes to her confused and unhappy face. She has more frown lines than Reigen has years to his name. 

“Hello?” Hanazawa Eiko says. She stands in the door with her whole body, taking up as much space as possible. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Reigen Arataka,” Reigen says. “I’m a friend of the Kageyama family. Including Teruki.” 

She’s still confused, but the unhappiness tilts into interest. “Teruki.”

“Yep. I’m just here to give you this.” Reigen presents the file to her with both hands. “I’ve been given the honor of serving you.”

“What?” She rips it out of his hands and opens the slip.

“Ah, if you could not read it in front of me—”

“What is the meaning of this?” she says, meeting his eyes. She must’ve read enough to have gotten the gist. “He’s blindsiding us with this, now? Where is this even coming from? His father—” Fury, for half a moment. “His father is going to be devastated when he hears, don’t you understand?”

“Probably not as devastated as Teruki,” Reigen says. He shouldn’t, but. “You got on without him the first twenty six years of his life. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Fine?” She laughs, and he hates how it rings in the air. “My son stabs me in the back and you mean to tell me this is fine?”

Reigen stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Listen.” She shuts her mouth, brows drawn tight. “What exactly is your goal here?”

She’s gritting her teeth behind her lips. “I want my son back.”

“Gathered that, but why? Are you so angry he’s living comfortably without you that you have to come in and ruin that? Or do you have a conscience after all and you’re trying to soothe it in the way that best suits you?” He pauses. “Or maybe you’re lonely.”

Her face contorts. It isn’t anger. Not quite. “What do you know about our family?”

“I know Teru’s made his boundaries pretty clear,” Reigen says, “and what he’s asked for isn’t unreasonable. You tracking him down to his home regardless of what he’s asked for tells me everything I need to know about you.”

“What do you know about raising an esper?” Ah, sure. He could’ve expected this. “That boy put me through hell. All I ever wanted was for him to show a little appreciation.”

He thinks of Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama at Shigeo’s wedding, their tears and their laughter and their pride. He thinks of the jokes lovingly ladled at poor Ritsu about how finicky he’d been with the flowers. He thinks of the way they love and how much they’ve had to handle between their sons, and how angry and devastated they’d be if someone dared lay a finger on them.

He thinks about walking Teruki down the aisle. It’s not the same as raising someone, but it’s a culmination of all the things it should mean to be a parent.

“I’m not gonna argue with you,” Reigen says. “But if you’ve got a single self-preserving bone in you, you’d cut this shit out and let Teruki go.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You’ve gotta understand. It’s not me. Maybe it’s the guy behind the counter at the discount drugstore. Maybe it’s the guy working nights at the restaurant no one really goes to. If it’s not them, it’s the person who owns the floral shop, or the woman who goes to the park every day with her kids. Or it’s a shady psychic business. The personal trainers at the gym. That weird girl with a telescope you wouldn’t give a second thought.”

“You’re espousing nonsense now?”

“What I mean to say is, this city is full of people who love Teruki and are looking out for him,” Reigen says, “and all of those people have people who are looking after them. I don’t know what foot you think you have in the door, but you’re gonna lose your chance to walk away real fast if you keep pushing. It’s not a threat. I just thought if you won’t do it for him, maybe you’d do it for yourself. That’s all I’ve got. Goodnight, Hanazawa-san.”

He turns away.

“Wait!” 

He stops. Eiko’s got a hand reached toward him, but she hasn’t closed the space. The envelope crinkles under the strength of her grip. 

“I—” Eiko begins, but that’s as far as she gets before the distress on her face tilts into something that could be shame, maybe, if not for her denial. She stares at her hand and then at the envelope and then at the ground. “I do want my son,” she says. The confidence is gone. The entitlement isn’t, but it’s changed. “I—... 

“... If you really care about Teruki,” Reigen says, “you’ll leave him alone. The only decent thing left for you to do at this point is to walk away.”

“Walk away?” Her face is incredulous. “The reason why he’s mad at me to begin with is because I walked away, and now that’s what he wants? How am I supposed to know what to do if nothing is ever good enough for him?”

God, Reigen does not want to have this conversation. It’s not the walking away that made Teruki put his foot down—it’s the neglect, the abuse, the abandonment. But this is not a person he can speak logically to. He can explain it to her until he’s blue in the face and she isn’t going to understand.

But her question isn’t disingenuine. 

Goddamnit. 

“He told you to leave him alone,” Reigen says. “I don’t think he can make it any clearer than that. You had a chance. You lost that chance. You don’t get to choose when you’re a part of his life again, if ever.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“... Become a better person,” Reigen says. “Do it for yourself and for the people you’ll meet in the future, and leave him out of it.”

He leaves her behind. She doesn’t call out to him again.

The seventeenth of November comes with a dry and biting cold. The one client Reigen had scheduled for today bailed, which likely isn’t a good omen, so he cranks his apartment space heater to max and leaves the office closed. He has no shortage of emails to catch up on. Not to mention the months-long anticipation building towards today.

He hasn’t heard from Shigeo or Teruki, and probably won’t until this afternoon, maybe early evening. Staying distracted with emails will help.

He gets a call just after noon. Shigeo.

He’s never picked up his phone faster. “Shigeo, hey.”

“She didn’t show up.” 

“How d— what?”

“She didn’t show up,” Shigeo reiterates. “The judge gave us everything we asked for. The whole order, we got everything.” 

“You—wait, what? She didn’t show? She missed the hearing?”

“Yeah.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.” 

“I don’t know, the court is going to get in touch with her, I think. But we don’t have to be involved. We’re… We’re done.” 

“Holy shit.” It was— easy? Reigen doesn’t want to think of it like that because it was hell for Teruki, but just like that? “That’s—How’s Teruki doing?”

“He’s… kind of in shock. But he’s good. We’re going to get food and go home.”

“Right. And how are you doing?”

“I’m also in shock, but good. I wasn’t expecting everything to be granted.” 

“Yeah. That’s good, though, isn’t it?”

“Better than good. If the order was just around Teruki and our home that would have been enough. The esper division was really sympathetic and a lot of people in the courtroom recognized us from what happened with Claw, I think, and when his mother didn’t show up— Oh, Teru’s back. I’ll call you later.”

“Alright. Take care.”

“Bye.” 

Shigeo hangs up. Reigen sits there stunned.

Just like that? Eiko didn’t show. Which also means she didn’t contest. He’s a little bit pissed that she didn’t show up, actually—could’ve at least had the professionalism to handle this properly—but on the other hand, it does mean she didn’t contest. 

It’s not like she would’ve had a choice. Contesting the order would’ve just made her look like shit, especially if what Shigeo said about the esper courts is true. Showing up was a basic courtesy, as was expected of her. Teruki would have been granted the order either way.

But bitterness aside, maybe this was her way of letting him go. 

Maybe this was her way of running trying to save herself. Who knows.

… In any case, trying to psycho-analyze her isn’t worth his time. The years to come will make her intentions pretty clear.

His phone pings. Group chat notification.

 [barbie and ken’s spiritual successor] The judge granted the protective order. We got everything we asked for.

 Tome’s the first to hop on and react with Serizawa right behind her. Ritsu is more generalized in his response, which likely means Shigeo called him personally like he called Reigen. Reigen pops in with a response similar to Ritsu’s with a dash of Tome to make it convincing; if Teruki is keeping details scarce while processing his mother’s no-show, he’ll play it cool.

“Let’s hear it for freedom!” Tome slams her mug into Shigeo with reckless abandon. “I knew you guys had it in the bag! There was no way she was gonna win after everything she did.” 

Spirits and Such’s favorite ramen shop has somehow stayed in business all these years—maybe solely on the patronage of Spirits and Such, but even so it’s a good ramen shop and the owner doesn’t mind their bombastic group dinners. They’ve got the whole crew with them tonight—Tome, Ritsu, Shigeo, Serizawa, Teruki, Reigen. Feels like old times.

“Ah, yeah.” Teruki rakes a hand through his hair, twirling noodles around his bowl. “My mom actually didn’t show up to the hearing, so we won by default.” 

“Oh, seriously?” Tome leans back, taking a large swig of peach-flavored soda. “That’s weird. Would’ve thought she’d be the type to fight.”

“Yeah, well.” Teruki glances sideways at Shigeo, who glances sideways back at him. They both face the group. “Thanks for sticking it out with me,” Teruki says. “Honestly, I don’t think I could’ve gotten through all of that without you guys. This… This has been a long time coming.”

“Overdue, if you ask me,” Reigen says, slurping ramen. “Don’t sweat it.”

Teruki smiles, and it’s real. “Thanks.”

Tome calls for a second round of noodles.

Shigeo shuffles out of the bathroom, dressed in cozy clothes and toweling his hair dry. His footsteps quiet and Teruki feels his gaze. “Teru?”

Teruki hums, lost in thought. His mother’s photo album is across his legs, missing several incriminating photos and leaving behind the rest. Shigeo draws close, settling at Teruki’s side. 

“I should get rid of this,” Teruki says. 

The words hang. He turns the page. 

“Do you want to get rid of it?” Shigeo asks.

It’s a spread of him running through sprinklers over the grass of his parents’ lawn. It was the last good summer he had up until middle school. “I feel like I should,” Teruki says. “... I feel like I should want to.” 

“If you’re sure you want to get rid of it, that’s fine,” Shigeo says. “But if you have any doubts at all, then it’s fine to hang onto it, too. It’s not something you can replace.”

Teruki hums again. 

Shigeo leans into his shoulder. “Are you coming to bed soon?” 

“Yeah.” He turns another page. Shigeo yawns and nudges under Teruki’s arm. “You can go on ahead, I’ll join you in a bit.”

“I’ll stay.”

“You’re just going to fall asleep on me.”

“You like it when I do that.”

Teruki huffs. “You’ll say it with that much confidence?”

“Sure.” 

Teruki leans into the back of the couch, taking Shigeo along for the ride. Shigeo drops his head onto Teruki’s chest. “What did I just say,” Teruki says, but he’s too damn smitten for his own good. An old coworker warned Teruki about the novelty of marriage and how it gets old and tapers off, but he’s been married to Shigeo for four years and if he could do it all over he’d still choose Shigeo.

Shigeo reaches up to poke him between the eyes. Teruki nearly sneezes. “Excuse me.”

Shigeo’s smile is made of sleepy adoration. “You make this face sometimes,” Shigeo says. “It’s cute.”

“I ma— what.”

Shigeo shrugs and turns into Teruki’s chest, settling down.

  “Wait, no you don’t, explain.” Teruki grabs him by the shoulder and tries to extract him. “Explain what that means. What face is it? I’ll make it more often.”

“Maybe now would be a good time to go to bed after all.”

Teruki pushes the album off his knees, wraps both arms around Shigeo’s stomach and essentially suplexes the both of them across the couch. Shigeo yelps. Teruki fails at not laughing.

“You’re hilarious,” says Shigeo. “Do you wanna go to bed now?”

“Alright, alright.” Teruki sits up, releasing Shigeo. “Go on ahead, I’ll get the lights.”

Shigeo slides off of him and to the floor before ambling to his feet. Teruki zips the album shut and clicks out the lights, double-checking the deadbolt and then following his husband into their bedroom. Shigeo has starfished himself on the center of the bed, which is just as well. Teruki drops over him sideways and Shigeo jerks awake with breathy ‘eep’. 

“Sometimes,” Shigeo says, his voice empty, “I think it would not be so bad to have two beds.”

Teruki knows he’s joking, so he laughs. “We could get two beds. Push them together.”

“Oh, and then when we’re fighting we can separate them.”

“I’ll gradually just inch mine closer and closer as the night goes on…”

“Like a serenade.”

Teruki makes a garbled noise. “Like a what?” 

“A serenade, like in that romcom we watched where the wife was upset and the husband cheered her up by singing.” 

“Wow, Kageyama, I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic.”

“We have matching socks. And it wouldn’t be romantic if I actually sang to you.”

“Maybe not romantic.” Teruki twists around, propping his elbows up on Shigeo’s chest. “But it’d be cute. I’d forget all about being mad at you. Just try it next time we’re fighting or something, I guarantee it’ll work.”

“Our marriage is doomed.”

Teruki kisses him. Shigeo goes quiet, startled—then he presses forward. Teruki wraps his arms under Shigeo’s shoulders to pull him close. Shigeo’s fingers thread into his hair. It’s quiet and it’s gentle—familiar and tired and soft. It’s just a kiss, but it’s nice. 

They pull away at about the same time. Shigeo’s eyes are so deep. Teruki strokes Shigeo’s cheek with his thumb. 

“I love you,” Teruki says.

Thank you.

“I love you too,” Shigeo says. 

“… I think I’m gonna keep the album,” Teruki decides, smoothing Shigeo’s hair off his face. “Until I know for sure.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah.” Teruki leans in again and Shigeo meets him in a shorter kiss. Teruki pulls away, cups Shigeo’s face in one hand. Shigeo’s eyes are so dark that it’s hard to tell what color they are, but the red shines clearly under the moonlight. Shigeo blinks up at him. His brows pinch.

“Teru?”

“Yeah?”

Shigeo touches his face. “You’re crying.”

“Oh.” A tear splashes onto Shigeo’s cheek. Good timing. “I—I guess I am. Uh.”

Shigeo’s thumb brushes underneath his eye. It’s such a tender gesture that Teruki’s chest caves in. He tries to breathe through it, scrubbing his face. 

“Sorry, sorry, I—” It hurts. “I was just thinking—I love you, you know that, Shige?”

“I do.” Shigeo’s voice is so, so kind. “I love you too.”

Teruki sobs and Shigeo tugs him down, pressing Teruki’s face into the side of his neck. Shigeo runs cold. It feels nice. Teruki wraps his arms underneath Shigeo’s neck.

“I don’t deserve you,” Teruki gasps.

Shigeo’s fingers filter through his hair again. One arm winds around Teruki’s shoulders. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“You’ve put up with so much from me.”

“Not really.”

“You have, Shige.”

“It’s been worth it,” Shigeo says.

Teruki doesn’t know what he’s feeling. It’s hard to tell where the pain ends and relief begins—mainly he’s overwhelmed and he’s in love and overwhelmed with the thought of being loved, and overwhelmed with the thought of that love not coming from his mother, for as many years as he thought he was over it.

More overwhelming still is the possibility that she does love him, but would sooner go his whole life hurting him than show it. 

He means to keep the photo album. It’ll stay in the back of the closet where he has to go out of his way to see it. 

Shigeo’s wedding ring gets caught in Teruki’s damaged hair as he runs his fingers through it.

Teruki wishes he were at a better vantage point to crush Shigeo as close as physically possible. He also can’t fathom drawing back. 

“Thank you,” Teruki weeps. 

He feels Shigeo nod. “I don’t regret anything,” Shigeo says. “But I especially don’t regret you.”

That does it. Teruki goes for the vantage point, yanking Shigeo into his arms and wrapping him up in his aura. Shigeo squeaks, which is cute and hilarious and also makes Teruki cry harder. He’s holding something precious who holds Teruki’s heart like it’s something precious.

Shigeo is so, so gentle with Teru’s heart.

Shigeo acquiesces to the new position. He draws his aura over Teruki like a blanket and lets Teruki hold him. Teruki still feels like he’s the one being held.

“I don’t regret you either,” Teruki whispers.

Shigeo traces tiny shapes against Teruki’s chest. It’s all he can realistically do with his arms pinned. “That’s nice.”

Teruki laughs. And chokes on it. And laughs some more. It doesn’t take long before he realizes Shigeo is crying, too.

It isn’t over. It might never be completely over. But it’s forward. 

He can be okay with just moving forward.

[kaminocasey]

Hi! I really love the Cody fic you just did 😍 I have a similar request (you pick the clone). Reader and clone have been on again off again bc of their work or being in different battalions or something and neither of them have confessed to eachother. But then reader gets seriously hurt and the clone finds her on the battlefield and is trying to save her and they have a fluffy love confession and happy ending bc help comes (or not, you choose 😂).

Anyway, congrats on 300! Love what you do! 😘

I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this!!! To make up for it, I hope it's okay that while it was supposed to just be a blurb, it kinda turned into a small fic? Lol. Title: In Time A/N: I chose Tup bc I've never written for him before and I thought it'd be fun! Plus, he's just so pretty, ya know? Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Angst, Smut WC: 2K

You and Tup. You made sense… but you didn’t. It didn’t stop the feelings you had for him, though. All the desperate hookups when your battalions would be paired up together. The 501st and the 212th all knew about the two of you. But neither of you could bring yourselves to admit your feelings for the other. 

“Maker, you’re so fucking pretty.” Tup whispers, his voice raspy with lust as he picks you up, pushing you up against the shelves in the utility closet that you had snuck off to in the middle of the night.

You moan softly against his lips. “You are.” 

He chuckles as you pull his hair tie out of his hair, letting it flow around him so you can wrap your fingers in it. He moans at the feeling. You know how much he loves when you massage his scalp. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time. Hopefully next time, you’d have time to explore each other’s bodies and needs more. 

“Wanted you so bad.” You groan as he thrusts into you. “Every day.”“Yeah? Tell me.” He gives you a sheepish smile.

You kiss him instead, afraid that you’ll accidentally let your feelings slip through. That was something neither of you had time for, unfortunately. Feelings.

“You gotta tell him, cyar’ika.” Fives tells you as you walk, his arm slung around your shoulder as you help carry him to safety.

“Are you kidding me right now?” You ask him, laughing. “You just got shot and you’re trying to lecture me about my love life?” 

He chuckles, breathlessly. “Yeah, guess I am.”

If Fives was anything, it was nosy. He had the perfect ability to butt into anyone’s business. It was a real problem. “He has a point, you know.” Hardcase chimes in, walking by, his gun slung up on his shoulder.

“Maker, go get your own lives, thanks.” You roll your eyes. 

“Tup has no idea. No matter how many times we tell him.” Fives shrugs, then winces in pain.

You shake your head at him. “Unbelievable.”

“I know. It’s completely obvious to all of us, except him.” He says as you start to spray a bacta-spray over the wound.

“No, Fives… You. You’re unbelievable. Why can’t you just mind your own business?” You glare at him.

“Oh… I’m sorry, cyar’ika… We just want to see you happy.” He tells you.

“Hey, everything good over here?” Tup comes walking by, raising his helmet so you can see his face.

You smile as soon as you see him, Fives momentarily forgotten. “Yeah, love. We’re all good.”

He grins and gives you an encouraging wink before pulling his helmet back down and nodding before catching up with Hardcase and Dogma. 

Unfortunately, the realization of what you need to do sits in and your smile fades immediately. This was your last day with the 501st for who knows how long. It’d be a lost cause to try to start something with Tup now. Right?

Later that night, in the barracks, you walk quietly into Tup’s where he’s bunking with Rex, Fives, Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, and Dogma.  “Tup.” You murmur, grabbing his attention.

He looks up, grinning immediately and your heart clenches, breaking silently. You knew this was going to be much harder than expected.

“Cyare.” He comes over to you, clearly excited to see you.

You glance around him at the rest of his brothers who are all staring at you, grinning, then back at him. “You want to go for a walk?”

He follows your gaze then looks back down at you. “Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”

You nod, silently, trying to give him a soft smile. The problem is, Tup knows you all too well. His smile fades immediately.

“What is it?” He asks you, seriousness lacing his voice.

“Not here…” You whisper, walking out into the hallway.

He follows behind you. “What’s wrong?”

When the door slides shut behind him, he pulls you into his arms. You gently remove yourself from his arms, looking up at his face, trying desperately to not reach out and comb your fingers through his hair since it’s down.

“This isn’t working, Tup…” You murmur.

“What isn’t?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

You really didn’t want to do this. Maker, why did you have to be in love with him? 

“Us.” You tell him, barely above a whisper. 

“Us…?” He tilts his head in confusion. “Why do you say that?”

You lean against the wall, crossing your arms, shrugging. “This is the 501st and 212th’s last night together for who knows how long…” 

“If you need a break-” He starts.

“No, Tup… that’s not it… It’s just too hard.” You try to keep the tears back as you attempt to not back down. 

Tup whispers your name, trying to get you to look at him. “Please… look at me.” You shake your head, knowing if you look at him now, you’re going to break. “Just… stay safe, okay?” 

“Cyare, I lo-” He starts but you put your hand over his mouth. 

“Don’t.” You finally look at him and he has tears in his eyes that match your own.

Finally, the dam breaks and you practically run away, back to your own barracks. Alone.

One Year Later… 

The blaster fire was almost too much at this point. You were beyond exhausted, but you knew rest would come soon. 

“You good, Ad’ika?” Wolffe calls down to you. “Comet good?” 

You nod, trying to make sure Comet is alright as he clutches his chest, gasping. It’s barely a flesh wound. He’s just being dramatic. 

“You’re fine, Comet. I promise.” You grin at him and then look back at Wolffe. “He’s perfectly fine!”

Wolffe chuckles with a nod and continues to follow General Plo Koon.

“You’re sure I’m fine?” Comet asks you.

“Barely any blood. You’re fine.” You pat his arm and help him back up.

“Whew. Close call.” He chuckles, joining Wolffe and Sinker with General Plo Koon.

You shake your head at the dramatic man and sanitize your hands, throwing your pack back over your shoulder. You’d been with the 104th for the last eight months and you considered the entire Wolfpack brothers at this point. 

You watch as General Plo Koon greets General Anakin Skywalker. The 501st was here. 

The 501st was here… with the 104th… Which meant… 

Oh no. 

You look up and see Captain Rex walking with Fives and Jesse. They look up just in time to see you searching for Tup. 

“Hey boys.” You try to smile. 

Rex greets you with a smile and then Fives’ booming voice fills the area.

“Cyar’ika!” Fives comes rushing over to you, picking you up and swinging you around in a hug. 

When he sets you down, you gently step away from him and turn to say hi to Jesse but are met face to face with Tup instead. Your lips part, unsure of what to say but he smiles softly at you.

“Hi.” He looks about as nervous as you feel.

“Hey.” You smile back, softly.

Jesse starts to lead Fives away before he can ruin the moment. You give him a grateful smile and he throws you a wink as they walk away. 

“How have you been?” Tup asks you.

Before you can say anything, Comet and Sinker come and rush you off. You give Tup an apologetic look.

“We got you, ad’ika.” Sinker assures you, knowingly.

The next day comes and you’re in the midst of battle again. You were keeping close to a few of the 104th guys if they needed you, trying to stay out of the 501st’s hair, especially since you knew that Kix was nearby for them. 

“How’s it rolling with the Wolfpack, cyar’ika?” Fives finds you and asks you. 

You smile softly up at him and try to think if you should ask about Tup. Should you be honest and tell Fives how much you miss Tup, how you haven’t stopped thinking about him or dreaming about him all year? Would he relay that information to Tup even if you asked him not to?

“I’d like to think we’re more fun than the 501st!” Comet calls out as he passes by.

You shake your head at Comet and he chuckles. 

“Is that true?” Fives asks you.

You roll your eyes and keep walking, trying to figure out how to answer as you both keep low out of the blaster fire. When you don’t answer him, Fives gently grabs your shoulder and stops you.

“Talk to me.” Fives tilts his head.

You let out a sigh, ready to be honest, except all of a sudden, you feel a sharp burning pain in your side and again in your shoulder. You look down, realizing you’ve been shot twice and then drop. Fives stares at you in shock for only a second before quickly dropping down beside you, desperately yelling for Kix. 

“KIX!” Tup hears Fives’ voice yelling urgently. “WE NEED HELP NOW!”

Tup drops his blaster to his side as he sees Kix run back past him and toward Fives and a body on the ground. He notices your shoes first, and when he realizes who’s shoes they are, he takes off sprinting in your direction. 

When Tup reaches you, you’re gasping in pain, tears in your eyes. 

“Tell Tup, Fives… Tell him. Promise me.” You gasp.

“Tell him yourself.” Fives grabs Tup, pulling him down beside you.

“Tell me what?” Tup asks.

You don’t have the energy to say it, no matter how bad you want to. You can feel yourself slipping into sleep, not sure if this is your last chance to tell him. You’re in so much pain. You mouth the words, hoping to the Maker that Tup understands what you’re trying to say. 

I love you.

He nods, understanding. “I love you, too. I always have.” 

You smile again before slipping under. 

When you come to again, the medbay lights are so blinding and white, it’s nauseating. 

“Turn off the lights, Kix…” You whisper, keeping your eyes closed. “Ugh.” “There she is.” Kix chuckles, patting your hand, getting up to turn down the lights. 

“Thank the Maker.” Tup jumps up to his feet from your side, kissing you desperately, all over your face and lips. 

“Tup?” You open your eyes.

“I’m here.” He promises you.

Relief washes through you, glad that you woke up again. You needed to tell him you loved him.

“I love you.” He tells you without you having to say it. “I’m in love with you.”

Unable to hold back your smile, you pull him to you, kissing him deeply. And then you realize how much pain you're in and let him go. 

“Sorry, cyare…” He murmurs, calling over Kix to give you more pain meds. 

“SHE’S AWAKE.” Fives claps his hands, strolling into the medbay with Jesse and Hardcase. 

“Yeah and I need some peace and quiet already.” You mumble, smiling.

Fives looks over at Tup holding your hand to his lips, smiling at you and starts grinning like an idiot. 

“It’s about time.” Fives nods, approvingly.

“Get out, Fives. Jesse. Hardcase.” Tup tells them. “We’ll talk to you later.”

Fives comes and sits a vase of flowers on the table by your bed. You look at him with a thankful grin and he throws you and Tup a wink before heading out of the room.

“We’ve reassigned you back into our care. So, when you feel better… you’ll be with the 501st from now on.” Kix tells you from the doorway before walking out of the room to give you and Tup some privacy.

You look over at Tup as you start to get sleepy again, but you try your best to fight it. You just want to spend time with him, and he knows it.

“I’ll be here when you wake up. We’ll talk then.” He kisses your hand again. “I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

You nod with a sleepy smile. “I love you.” 

“I love you. Now rest.” He squeezes your hand, resting his head against yours. 

As if that’s all you needed, you drift off into sleep again. This time, happier than you’d been in an entire year.

TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin

[neon-lights-and-glitter]

Can you do prompt #16 with Elliot? Like maybe they were dating and his drug habit caused him to be toxic to her but he gets clean and wants to apologize but the reader is having a hard time accepting his apology bc of the trauma he caused. Angst!

Warnings - Drugs, toxic relationships, mentions of overdose, withdraws.

Word count 1.1k

A/N- This fit the prompt so well, I hope you like it, its a lot of angst with no happy ending, my favorite thing to write haha. I wasn't sure if you did want a happy ending or not so I left it open for either.

It was safe to say that your relationship with Elliot wasn’t the healthiest. As much as Elliot loved you, he often choose drugs over your relationship. 

In a way you couldn’t blame him, he was addicted. You knew that before you started dating, you just didn’t realize how bad it was. Elliot didn’t treat you the best during your relationship, and it took you a little while to realize that it wasn’t going to change until he was willing to quit using drugs.

The only time you two didn’t fight was when Elliot was high. When he wasn’t you two would argue over anything. He always took the lack of drugs in his system out on you, he didn’t mean to, but he did. He would always get annoyed when you would try to help him get sober, he would call you controlling, he knew you just wanted to help him, but he didn’t want help. He just wanted drugs in that moment, and you weren’t going to help him get drugs, so he didn’t care. You were always afraid that one day his addiction would go too far. 

He also didn’t realize he had as much of a problem as he did until he broke up with you. You would threaten it, but never do it. Elliot broke up with you because you were trying to help him get better, and he didn’t want to get better.

It had been a couple months since Elliot had broken up with you. Since then, Elliot had gotten clean.  You hadn’t talked to or even seen Elliot since the night you broke up. A part of you was always afraid that something had happened, that he was still using drugs, or even afraid that he had overdosed. He made it quite clear when you broke up that he didn’t want to see you again, yelling something along the lines of “You don’t actually care about me, you just want me to get clean so you can say you fixed me. Then you’re going to leave me because you don’t love me. I’m not doing this anymore, we’re fucking done.” So, when Elliot showed up at your front door it was a surprise. 

Somehow, he talked his way into you letting him inside. You weren’t really sure why he was here, he was the one who hurt you. He was the one who broke up with you. You were glad he showed up in a way though, you couldn’t deny the fact that he looked better than the last time you saw him.

“What are you doing here Elliot?” You asked, crossing your arms and looking over at him, leaving space in-between you. 

“I wanted to apologize” Elliot said, “I fucked up I know, but I just want you to know that I didn’t mean any of the stuff I said that night. Hell, I didn’t mean half of the stuff I said our whole relationship.”

“If you want drugs, you know I don’t have any” You interrupted, that’s how your relationship always was, he’d fuck up, then as soon as he needed or wanted something from you, he would apologize and you two would make up. Elliot shook his head.

“I don’t want drugs. I’m actually clean. Went to rehab after we broke up, and I’ve been clean ever since.” He told you, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch.

“Do you even feel sorry about what you did to me?” You asked as you hugged your knees to your chest.

“Of course, I do. I know I didn’t treat you like I should have, and I can’t blame drugs, or I guess lack of drugs, but I also can’t live with myself if I don’t apologize to you.” Elliot explained.

“I cared about you Elliot. I still do care about you. I was never trying to control you, I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I loved you.” You looked down at your hands.

“I loved you too, I still do. I’m just not used to someone caring about me like you did. I didn’t know how to deal with that, so I pushed you away. I regret that every day.” 

“You really hurt me.” You said, making Elliot nod.

“I know I did. I understand if you never want to see me again, I’m surprised you even let me in.” Elliot looked over at you.

“You’re not a bad person just because of something you said while you were going through withdraws. As much as it hurt me. Maybe I’m being stupid, but I want to forgive you, I just don’t know if I can.” You sighed, “I don’t think I should.” 

“I get it. I completely understand and I mean that. I’m not going to ever hold that against you if you want to hate me for the rest of my life that’s okay with me. I deserve it.” Elliot explained, as much as he was hoping to show up and receive your forgiveness, he knew the chances of that were slim.

“That’s the thing. I don’t hate you. Even after everything you’ve said to me, I shouldn’t want to forgive you. I shouldn’t want to see you again, but this whole time I wanted to see you to make sure you were okay.” You and Elliot sat in silence for a minute, neither of you knowing what to say. “How long have you been clean?” You asked him, finally looking over at him.

“5, almost 6 months.” Elliot answered.

“I’m proud of you.” You smiled softly, “Can I have some time to think about it? If I forgive you or not?” You asked and Elliot nodded.

“Of course,” Elliot smiled softly at you, “Want me to leave?” He asked, and you nodded.

“I’m sorry I just don’t know what I should do.” You sighed.

“Don’t feel bad if you don’t forgive me. I just wanted to apologize to you. Even though I didn’t mean a lot of the things I said during our relationship, I did mean it when I said I love you. I meant everything I said tonight.” Elliot said as he got up and walked to the front door to leave. “I’ll never be able to say it enough, but I’m sorry” Elliot said before walking out the front door and closing it behind him leaving you alone.

You truly didn’t know what you should do. His apology seemed genuine but was it enough to make up for all the pain he caused you during your relationship. You weren’t sure. No matter how long it took for you to decide, Elliot would be waiting for your decision. Even if it took months or years. Elliot couldn’t forgive himself for all the pain he caused you unless you did, and even then, he might not be able to, but that’s just something he would have to live with.

[barakittens517]

PT III: The Reunion

Summary: In which chaos ensues (AKA the more the merrier, or whatever.)

PT II: The Finding PT IV: The Discovering

Words: 3,663

Warnings: mentions of alcohol use, minor (slightly graphic) character death, minor religious themes, mentions of past physical abuse (brief)

Pairing: Morpheus x gender neutral reader

Notes: tbh i couldn't write a fic and *not* include the absolute insanity of the cereal convention. personal shout out to caffeine for fueling 98% of this. sending good vibes to ellis bc they're about to get emotionally wrecked eight ways from sunday &lt;333

Tag List: @ponyboys-sunsets @i-am-not-a-raccoon-anymore

“Morning, sunshine,” Blade Runner calls out. You’re conscious again, and your entire brain is throbbing in protest. You’re sitting in a cushioned armchair. Your hands are tied in your lap, and your ankles have been tied to the chair legs. You try to stand and discover Blade has looped a rope in a makeshift noose, tied around the back of the chair. 

You try to swallow the panic rising in your throat. “What’s… the whole point of this?” you ask. 

“We’re going to have some fun, now,” Blade calls from out of view. You notice the hotel’s hardcover Bible on the bed in front of you. The corner is covered in blood- no wonder you have such a magnificent headache. 

He strolls back into view and holds up a straight razor. “Well, I’m going to have some fun,” he corrects himself. “One of us has to.”

He seats himself on the end of the bed in front of you. He opens his mouth as if to start a monologue, and promptly shuts it. It takes a moment to realize your sunglasses are gone. 

“Y-your eyes… they’re… glowing…” he whispers under his breath. You refuse to look away from him, even as he falls to his knees in front of you. 

“I don’t believe in that kind of thing,” he says shakily, “No, that’s not true.” 

 You have no idea what he’s talking about, but you know what’s going to happen now. “It’s true, whether you believe it or not,” you reply. 

He’s crying now, an ugly sobbing that makes you sick to your stomach. “I didn’t want to,” he cries, “But they weren’t good people either!” 

He’s gripping the straight razor so hard it’s cutting through his fingers. If it hurts, he doesn’t notice. “I’m not sorry,” he spits, and for a moment you’re afraid he’s going to hurt you. “But I’m not worth forgiving, either.” 

You watch in horror as he begins slashing his wrists. Within moments the bedspread is soaked in crimson, and Blade falls face-first to the carpet. 

You want to scream, to panic, to run as fast and as far away from this fucking hotel as possible, but you can’t do anything all tied up. You fidget enough to get your boots off, and your legs slide easily out of the rope. You use your hands to hold the noose out as you slide down to the floor. 

You grab your boots and your aviators from the table and rush to the door. You can hear voices in the hallway, talking and laughing. You catch the rope around your hands on the locked door handle and wriggle your hands free. Your wrists are red and sore. 

You slide the aviators over your face and wait for the hallway to fall silent before making a break for the stairs. 

You make it back to the Corinthian’s room without interruption. You thank every god you can think of that he isn’t back yet. You lock the door and push one of the nightstands against it, just in case. You’ll order room service if you have to, but you’re not going back to that damned convention. 

Your head hurts- not just from the obvious head wound. No, you really thought things were starting to make sense after talking with the Corinthian. Now you’re even more confused, and you have no one to talk to. 

Your first idea is to take a hot shower. You dress in a pair of skinny jeans and a clean hoodie- there had never really been a point in owning pajamas. You settle in on one of the queen-sized beds and try to clear your mind. For once in your life, you’d rather be sleeping. Anything to keep from flashing back to the conference, and to Blade Runner. 

He had been hunting other killers, but why? And even without the religious guilt Ryan had, he still killed himself. He had told you that your eyes were glowing. You walk to the bathroom mirror and stare for a long time, waiting to see what he was talking about. 

Nothing. 

You give up with a defeated sigh and return to the room. Whatever sleep looks like for you, it never comes easy. There’s a miniature electric teapot next to the Keurig on the office desk. Packets of chamomile and hot cocoa sit in a porcelain mug. 

You boil a cup for yourself and dip the chamomile tea bag in, relishing in the warmth and the calm that it brings. After the mug is empty, you place it on the remaining nightstand and curl up under the covers. This time you dream of a memory. 

“Ellis!” a woman’s voice rings out. You’re standing in the backyard of a brick mansion. 

“Coming!” you yell in response. 

You remember this day. You had come to London, lost as hell and wandering the streets about two months ago. A kind older woman named Ms. Jude, who ran a rather profitable orphanage on the outskirts of town. In exchange for helping her take care of the young ones, she let you stay. 

“Now Ellis, you remember I told you I’ve been looking for a family,” Ms. Jude announces once you reach the kitchen. You nod. “Well, I believe I found one.” She grins proudly. “They’ll be here any minute now.” 

You give her a hug and express your gratitude, but inside, your heart sinks. You didn’t want to leave Ms. Jude and the orphanage alone. You certainly didn’t want to start all over again, acquainting yourself with strangers. 

Before you have time to even express this to Ms. Jude, the bell on the front door rings. Ms. Jude pats you gently on the shoulder. “It will be lovely for you, I promise,” she says. You follow her to the front door and meet your new family- the Marwoods. Saul, Evie, and their two children, David and Eden. 

Time warps in front of you, only a month after you first left Ms. Jude. You found out very quickly that Saul was a mean drunk, and Evie could not- no, would not do anything to stop him. He left their own children alone, of course, but you were an easy target. 

You watch, frozen in terror, as you relive the first time he laid hands on you. David and Eden had made a mess of the house, and although you had tried to clean up before Saul came home, they had broken a valuable family heirloom.

“What a waste of money you were,” he spat. “Don’t you bother comin’ back to this house.”

They were wrong about you, a voice echoes from behind you. A voice you recognize. The man from the ivory gates. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask, looking around blindly for any sign of him. He appears like smoke from the corner of the room. The memory has ended. 

I have been looking for the creations I have lost, he answers. He steps closer to you, and you instinctively shrink back. He’s tall, and pale, dressed in a coat that shimmers in starlight and ends in flames. 

So this is the Creator the Corinthian was talking about. Morpheus.

“The Corinthian is gone,” you say, “He’s not here.” 

The stranger’s eyes flash with anger. Where is he? 

You swallow the fear bubbling in your chest. “I… I don’t know. He left me here.” 

Morpheus disappears in a whirlwind of sand, and you’re alone.

You wake up feeling worse than before. Your head is still throbbing, and there is an amount of dried blood staining the hotel pillow. Someone is trying to open the door. It unlocks, but between the chain lock and the nightstand, there’s no way to get through. 

“Ellis!” you hear the Corinthian yell. “Do you mind telling me what the hell this is all for?” You rush to move the furniture and unlock the door for him. He’s standing with a younger boy. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, “Uh… weird convention.” The Corinthian gives you a look, but he doesn’t press it any further in front of the kid. 

“Alright, Jed,” he says, turning to the kid, “This whole room is yours. Anything you want to watch, anything you want to order from room service, go for it. On one condition.” He gives you a knowing look. “Stay in the room.”

Jed seems fine with the deal and immediately settles in. The Corinthian motions for you to follow him out in the hallway. You grab your bag and put on your aviators, assuming the worst. 

You follow him to the hotel bar, keeping your eyes on the patterned carpet. There’s no way anyone knows what you did to Blade Runner already, but you never know. And you certainly don’t want to meet anyone else like him. 

The Corinthian picks a table at the back and orders a vodka lemonade and a whiskey sour, on the rocks. Just like old times. You try to give the impression that you’re not in full panic mode, and you definitely don’t know you’re surrounded by serial killers. The Corinthian doesn’t buy it. 

“So… I heard something pretty awful happened the other night,” he starts. You frown. 

“Oh?” 

The Corinthian nods, taking a sip of whiskey. “Oh, yeah. Turns out one of these guys was, uh… hunting down fellow collectors. Nimrod found out this morning. Whole room’s covered in blood and photographs of some of us. Cleaning bill’s gonna be a nightmare.”

“That’s, uh… That sounds pretty ominous for a cereal fan,” you reply. 

The Corinthian laughs darkly. “Cut the shit, Ellis,” he says, leaning in close. “You know what we are here. And I know what you did.” 

You take a sip of vodka to calm your nerves and realize your hand is shaking. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. These people are fucking weird, though.” 

He shakes his head. “Ellis, I know what happened. Blade Runner didn’t just kill himself. And I bet you your head hurts pretty bad still, considering all that blood in the room. Now, do you want to tell me what the fuck happened?” 

Your mind is racing with all of the potential bullshit excuses, but you already know you’re screwed. “I didn’t do anything on purpose. They invited me to the panel last night, and I only stayed for a little bit! I wasn’t trying to fuck up, I swear. But between getting killed and being killed, I’m glad that asshole is dead.” 

For once, the Corinthian grins. He raises his glass to clink against yours. “I’ll drink that.”

You sit in silence for a moment. You figure he deserves to know. “He’s looking for you, you know,” you say. 

The Corinthian sets his empty glass down and signals to the bartender for another. “I know.” 

Do you tell him about the dream? That Morpheus found you? The Corinthian sighs. “It’s been over a century. I’d be an idiot not to expect it.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

He smiles. “I’m hoping I won’t have to do a thing. That’s why Jed’s here. That vortex of a girl could take care of Dream in an instant.”

“Vortex?” you ask. 

He nods. “Once every hundred years or so, some poor soul has enough potential to set us free. Dream kills them. Every. Time. Not now, though. Not with her.” 

You pretend that that makes sense, but it doesn’t. 

“I guess I hope it goes well, then,” you reply. 

You want to ask more questions, to tell the Corinthian that Morpheus himself fucking spoke to you, but Nimrod appears and nervously taps on the table. 

“You, uh, you ready for your big speech?” he asks. “We’re getting everything set up in the auditorium right now. 

The Corinthian smiles. “Sounds great. I’ll be there in just a second.” Nimrod nods and quickly walks out of the bar. You don’t understand how one man can look so scared of everything, and still have the balls to murder people for fun. 

The Corinthian turns back to you. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“Am I supposed to… What am I supposed to do?” you ask. He shrugs. 

“You already know what we are here. Hell, you fit right in, don’t you? Tell you what, get another drink or two, clear your head a bit, and then head down to the auditorium. As long as you don’t suicide anyone, I don’t see the problem.” 

Your stomach turns. “O-okay. Cool.” He signals to the bartender to get you another drink and leaves. When the bartender comes with your next drink, you tip him $20 out of your bag. Something doesn’t feel right. 

I mean, it’s a serial killer convention, of course it’s not right. But something feels off about the day, and you wish the Corinthian didn’t have to leave so soon. You wander into the hotel lobby and practically collapse onto one of the cushioned benches. 

Everything is so overwhelming. You’re surrounded by serial killers- hell, at this point you technically qualify as one of them. And if Morpheus is looking for his creations, only to find you with the Corinthian, you’re surely going to end up dead. Or worse. You don't even know what worse would be, but remembering the fiery look in his eyes, you don’t want to find out. 

“Are you alright, dear? Bit dark in here for glasses, I’d think,” someone says. You look up and come face to face with an older man, wearing a large green overcoat and carrying a peculiar-looking cane. He seems harmless enough, but he’s wearing a name tag that reads The Dutch Uncle. 

Jesus Christ, you cannot catch a break from these assholes. You push your sunglasses farther up onto your face and fake a smile. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say bitterly. 

He looks offended, surprisingly. “My apologies for intruding, really. I’m, uh, I’m not here for the convention.” His eyes widen when he catches the name tag clipped to your sweatshirt. “The Corinthian?” he whispers. 

You nod. “I’m not here for it either. But, yeah, I came with him.”

“And you’re alive?” he asks. 

You want to laugh, but you don’t. “Yes, I’m alive.” 

He takes the seat next to you and leans in with a quiet voice. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but how is that possible?” 

You shrug, trying not to think about the way in which you met the nightmare. There have been too many deaths, too much blood on your hands. You’re exhausted, down to the very bone. Living this long has been tiring, but it’s never been this hectic.

“He’s not interested in me, I guess. He’s looking for someone else.”

The Dutch Uncle looks even more concerned now. “Oh, dear… Then I suppose you already know what he is capable of. Is he still on the premises?” 

You nod towards the auditorium. “He’s about to give a speech, actually. I was about to head in. Did you want to come with me?” 

The Dutch Uncle shakes his head. “No, no I don’t want to do that. I- actually, you said he was looking for someone else. Do you know who that might be?” 

“It’s not you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Some girl. Something about ‘’she’s a vortex’, yadda yadda yadda,” you explain. 

His jaw drops, if only for a moment. “Do you know her name?”

“Rose Walker. He brought her brother here, too. He’s trying to, I don’t know, he said something about setting everyone free. I don’t understand.” 

The Dutch Uncle stands up abruptly. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I need to leave. I happen to have brought Rose Walker here. I- oh, I have made a terrible mistake. I must speak with Lucienne before he gets here.” 

“Good luck, I guess,” you call after him, but he’s already rushing out of the lobby. You sigh and head towards the auditorium. There’s no use missing the Corinthian’s speech. It will probably make you sick to your stomach- again- but it’s better than doing nothing. 

You take a seat at the back of the auditorium, careful to distance yourself from the regular convention members. Nimrod is standing nervously at the front, organizing his notes on the podium. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have some announcements before I introduce our guest speaker. Firstly, I’d like to thank everyone for making the trip this year. I’m glad to see so many of us gathered, if only for a couple of days. Now, the opportunity to be in the running for next year’s cash prize ends at 3PM this afternoon. Please find either myself or the Dark Angel to sign up.” He pauses momentarily, scanning the faces in the crowd. He stops when he notices you in the back. 

“I, uh, I have some bad- rather, some mixed news about our convention this year. Yesterday, the organizers discovered a collector of collectors, if you will, in our midst.” The crowd gasps, but Nimrod, undaunted, continues. “The threat to our cherished community has been extinguished. But it is with utmost disappointment that I tell you Blade Runner has committed the unforgivable deed. Please note that we will be taking extra precautions in the future to avoid another such disturbance.”

He coughs, breaking the silence that follows. The discomfort in the room is palpable, but Nimrod soldiers on. “With the formalities out of the way, it truly is my pleasure now to introduce… a man dear to all of our hearts, a legend in his own lifetime… The Corinthian!” 

A deafening applause breaks out, and you’re drawn to clapping with the rest of them. The blonde nightmare looks pleased with the reception as Nimrod quickly disappears off stage. 

“You know, I don’t usually speak in public,” the Corinthian starts, “but the opportunity of talking to all of you is just too good to pass up. Because you are special people. Very special people…” The nightmare continues, but you’re distracted by someone pulling on your sweatshirt sleeve. It’s Nimrod, and he is visibly pissed. 

“Come with me,” he whispers tersely, and as much as you’d rather fucking not, you follow him out to the back of the auditorium. The maintenance room. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You remember the look he gave you during his speech. He knows you killed Blade Runner. 

“I-I’m not sure what this is about,” you stutter, “but the Corinthian gave me permission to be in the audience. If that’s the problem here.” 

Nimrod glares. “That is very much not the problem here, but I’ll have to take note of his overstepping convention rules. You are not a collector, and you never should have come here.” He’s closing the distance between you now, until you’re backed into one of the cold, metal walls.

“I can leave,” you say, but Nimrod shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t think that’s going to fix things. Blade Runner was an admirable kill, even I’ll admit that, but I don’t believe we can just let you walk out of here.” He’s pulled a syringe out of his pocket, and grins menacingly. “Dark Angel let me borrow some of her supplies for this one. I may have to invest in it. Flunitrazepam, I believe she called it. Makes it easier to truly savor the experience.”

“I thought he killed himself,” you say, sliding along the wall until you’re backed into the very corner. Nimrod pauses. 

“We thought so, as well, until we noticed he must’ve had someone with him. Someone who compelled him. It really wasn’t difficult to trace security footage- granted, it’s all been deleted now. I’m curious, as the Corinthian’s plus-one, who are you, really?”

You eye the door behind you, trying to find a way to stall for time. Nimrod looks fairly old, and you’re probably faster than him. “Nobody, honestly. I’m not anyone. I’m not important,” you reply. The words sting as they leave your mouth. You really don’t fucking matter at all. Even if Nimrod were to gut you like an animal, it wouldn’t make a difference to the universe. 

“I don’t believe that,” he snaps. “What are you, in training? What’s with the glasses?” Before you have a moment to react, he’s snatched them off of your face. 

Shitshitshitshit-

“No,” you say coldly. As Nimrod stares you down, you watch the expression on his face speedrun the five stages of grief. 

“But that’s not possible,” he breathes, “I’ve done everything for Him. Am I not Nimrod, a mighty hunter before the Lord?” 

“Not at all,” you answer, although you know he’s not listening to you. You wish above all that you didn’t have to be a witness the entire time. 

Why now, after a century of wandering the earth, was this happening to you? You’d never wished death on anyone, even the Marlowes. You didn’t believe in any god, for crying out loud! You’d been abandoned by everyone. If there were a god, he owed you. 

Nimrod is crying quietly now, having accepted the fate before him. He plunges the syringe into his chest, and within a minute he is lying on the floor, eyes wide open. He’s still breathing, but you wonder how long that will last. 

Your sunglasses, unfortunately, are a lost cause. They’re crushed underneath his body, and there’s no use in trying to retrieve them. Without a second thought, you rush back to the auditorium. You need to tell the Corinthian that they think it’s his fault. That they’re going to turn on him. 

But you’re too late. 

The audience is silent, eyes closed. Asleep. The nightmare is speaking with a tall man in a flaming coat- Morpheus. You can only catch a part of what they’re saying. The Corinthian is arguing with him, something about humanity. You stand, transfixed in horror, as the nightmare begins to dissipate to sand. 

“I created you poorly, then,” you hear Morpheus say, “As I do uncreate you now.” 

Oh, fuck.

[roseworth]

opinions on jaykyle ?

GASP. love love love. but disclaimer before i say anything,,, i have not read the one (1) comic they are in together, everything i know about them is completely Dashboard Osmosis xoxo

first of all. love the Disaster energy of jaykyle,,, both of them being like "i dont care! *proceeds to care a lot*" bc they Do Not Want to be interested in each other but alas. they are

i love the hc of neither of them realizing that they are into each other but donna knowing and being so fucking tired of them all the time. kyle goes "jason is soooo annoying 🙄 hes not even that hot. no one thinks hes hot. i dont know why anyone would think that hes hot. who would even be into him. everyone thinks hes sooooo cool and sexy and everyone wants to fuck him. not me though." while donna sits there like "sure, talk more about how much you don’t think or care about him 🙂"

meanwhile jason is actually chill about it. hes like "yeah kyle gets on my nerves but like in a hot way" while kyle is fuming in a corner. boyfriends <3

and hhhmmhhhsmshsmhhhm characters that pretend not to care about each other but then are super protective and would kill and die for each other??? oh my god i am crying. jason sees kyle in danger and he immediately runs in and tries to protect him despite the fact that kyle is a lot more powerful than him fjfjdjsmdn

but ohh my god. italicized oh moment for realizing they actually DO like each other??? fuck! both of them are fucking dumb and emotionally repressed so that they wouldnt even realize it until something major happens. like one of them is in danger and the other is Panicking and doesnt realize why theyre so worried until theyre like "hold on. hold on. i am in love. okay."

and LISTEN. both of them are scared of bringing people into their lives and caring for another person :(

after what happened to alex (🧊💔) kyle is wary of bringing people into his life because he is afraid that it will only end badly for them :( he doesnt want to see the people he cares about get hurt so he tries to keep Emotional Distance so nothing can happen

and jason has felt constantly hurt and left behind by the people that are supposed to care about him :( his dad left, his mom died (which obviously is not her fault bc she was an addict but from a 10-year-old jason's perspective it def gave him some abandonment issues from seeing his mothers dead body then needing to live on the streets), then sheila betrayed him, then he felt betrayed by bruce, then he felt left behind by his whole family. so that tends to affect a persons relationships

so both of them are extremely hesitant to be in a relationship, i feel like jason would be the one to end up making the first move but for a while they would both have a “one foot out the door” attitude but they would have to slowly accept that they trust each other and care about each other :(

because FUCK it’s about learning to accept that they can’t always be there when the person they care about is in danger! and overcoming insecurities about the danger of opening your life for another person!!! aaaaaah!!!!!!!!!

that’s all i’m going to say for now because i am going to go into cardiac arrest but i just…. care deeply about them. anyways while i’m talking about jaykyle i implore everyone to read violet tendencies by elixir because it’s my fav jaykyle fic and i think about it constantly

[b4evr]

This is my first time writing anything so please don’t judge me

summary: So basically you feel like your not good enough for an almighty god like Loki, so when reads your thoughts he makes it his mission to prove to you that you are worth more than anything in the world. Loki x FEMALE reader

Sad/loving/caring

MILD SWEARING

Y/n pov-

Loki was out, which was good because it meant that I could get some alone time. I’ve needed that for a long time now. I’ve had a bad feeling for a few days and I don’t know exactly why but I think I have an idea. Let me set the scene for you.

They’re is this beautiful girl. She has long blonde locks that curl at the ends of her wavy her, her eyes are like deep pools of the ocean and her lips are thin and frail. With a tint of warm pink in them. Her name is Emily. She’s a princess, she’s from a planet close to Lokis, and her family and his have been planning an engagement for them. As they are both Gods/Goddess’s. It was only until Loki told his father about us, that he stopped the engagement.

My issue here is that Emily likes Loki, a lot. And he sometimes shows too much interest in her. Like a lot. And it hurts. Seeing him show her that much attention. His eyes practically glow when he see’s her. And it hurts, ya know. They have known each other for years, he’s known me for about 4 years. But that’s not that long.

I am just a mortal. I have no special talents, haven’t got a great body, and I..I just want love. God I can’t even fucking cook. So here’s me. Now sitting on my bed, crying. My nose is wet, and snotty and my eyes are cloudy to look out of. And when I looked in the mirror when I could see, they were bruised and damaged.

If he loves her , can’t he tell me..?

Loki’s pov-

Y/n wanted me to give her some personal time. So I have, but now I’m bored so I’m on my way back. Well, outside.

y/n pov-

SHIT. Is that Loki?? NO NO NO NOOOO. This can’t be, he can’t be back yet. “Fuck, where are the tissues, shit” I whispered to myself, already knowing that I am screwed. As I found the tissues, stumbled to my feet again, and spun around. It was too late. Because standing infront of me was a tall, skinny but masculine man. With jet black hair, that shimmered in the light, green eyes that anyone could get lost in. And those lips. Those li… wait no. No. No. No. he can see me. “y:n? ….a..are you okay?” His voice sounded painful. “did I do something? I assure you if I have please tell me I will fix it right awa….”

“ it’s not you Loki. It’s just. Okay…s..so ba..basically I just wanted to ask…. IF YOU LOVE HER JUST LEAVE ME BECAUSE I KNOW SHE IS BETTET, BUT PLEASE DONT BREAK ME” it came out quickly, and loudly. he looked stunned. Shocked. He had a confused expression painted across his face until he realised what I was talking about. “Oh pet, my dear sweet darling. No no you’ve got it all wrong, me and Emily, no. We are friends. JUST friends I promise you. You know why???” Now I was the one with the confused face. “because… I love YOU. Only you. No one else. You are perfect in every way, and I fell in love with you because you’re not some almighty God like me. You’re calm and caring and you’re not afraid of me.”

I was stunned. In fact too stunned to speak. “Sweet thing, let me show you how much I love you”

Now, a devilish smirk appeared on his face. As he pushed me down on the bed and roared over me. Sliding his shirt off slowly , never , dropping eye contact.

SOOO THATS THE END OF THIS PART. idk if I should do another one. But pls tell me if it’s good or not. Again my spelling it’s kinda bad and it’s my first time. But yeah I might do a part 2 bc tell me if you want one.