#i love these fics with all my heart y'all

[sonotpattismith]

YOURE WRITING IS LIT AMAZING OMG- I had an idea: Sukuna switching in and telling u yuji likes you (romanticly and sexually) and eventually switching back and the aftermath…. 🙏🙏🙏

Forgive Me for Whatever I Do (Yuji Itadori x Reader)

word count: 4.9k warnings: a teeny bit dark, angst, suggestive content, 18+ a/n: y'all, I think I kind of altered what the original vibe was meant to be for this request, but I am apparently physically incapable of not making a fic angsty, I'm SORRY. Also, this was a bit inspired by Remember You by Dominurmom, link if you wanna listen cause it makes me cry. I hope you all enjoy and please remember my requests are always open! 🥹🫶🏻

Friends. It was a good word-- a safe word. It was one you had found solace in hiding behind for years. How could you dare risk the beautiful ebb and flow you had found within the days of while you’d experienced with your best friend? No matter the pools of warmth that engulfed your chest with each glittery-eyed smile-- no matter how the both of you had always found your way back to each other whether rain or sunshine-- no matter how much you loved Yuji Itadori. Friends; it was a safe space. 

There was a time when you wanted something more. It was so early on, before you were too scared to lose him yet. When you two had first met, you felt undeniably pulled toward the bright-eyed and charismatic boy. Both of your lives had been overwhelmingly and newly hectic, what with your being thrust into a life of curses and sacrifice. Similarly, Yuji was still coping with the abrupt weight of managing the demon he now shared a body with. It was never the right time. 

So, your timid glances and blushing compliments soon turned into confiding conversations and fierce loyalty. You two fell into the gentle and safe rhythm of a blossoming friendship. Of course, deep down within the confines of your cowardly hearts, you were always drawn to one another. There was always a hope, never communicated, that maybe once your lives found a peaceful medium, you two would no longer need to hide behind the solace of friends.

This certainly wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. 

Yuji had always made it appoint to keep you and Sukuna at opposite ends of his world, in all senses of the phrase. He barely spoke of him to you at all, in fact. It was actually something you argued often with him about, worried about the impacts of keeping that kind of burden locked away would have on him. In typical Itadori fashion though, he wouldn’t even entertain the notion of an argument with you. No, he’d just squint his honey-brown eyes, and flash that bashful smile to you, a half-assed excuse about why it wasn’t that big of a deal falling easily from his lips. 

The truth was though, it was a big deal to him-- a massive one, in fact. After having already witnessed what that counterpart of his could do, the havok it could ensue on those important to him-- nothing scared him more than the prospect of you coming face to face with Sukuna. Yuji felt this fear so much so that he spared you the details. He didn’t want you to think of him in such a way, to know that any part of him was capable of such atrocities. Yes, he’d bear it all if it meant none of it touched you. 

So, when he felt his own body deteriorating rapidly in tandem with the whaling blows of cursed energy courtesy of the special grade the two of you had been cornered by, the thought flickered in the back of his head. Heaving out a pained groan, Yuji’s gaze found yours, and he pushed it back down. But you screamed. You screamed, and he couldn’t help you-- he couldn’t move. You screamed, and he was trapped beneath the concrete pillar that had fallen so unceremoniously over his heaving chest. You screamed, and suddenly, it was his only option. 

“Sukuna!”

The King of Curses was not one for favors, especially not for the brat that held him hostage in what was meant to be his vessel. He assessed the situation before him-- the one he’d been watching intently from the safety of his own shrine. Through his insolent vessel’s eyes, he could only see you. It was all the brat would look at, you were all he ever looked at. Whether it be the back of your head, hair swaying gently as you’d turn to smile at him, and Sukuna would always feel the boy’s heart clench fouly at the sight. On some occasions, you’d be looking right at him, your eyes with stars behind them, and the demon wanted nothing more than to rip them right from their sockets simply for the way his vessel would tremble under your gaze.

Pathetic. 

Maybe if the brat had been looking toward something else for once, they wouldn’t have been in this predicament. But he was racing toward you at every chance he got, taking blows that were meant for you, countering attacks that you had antagonized. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so weak.

So, he laughed. In the back of Itadori’s frenzied mind, Sukuna cackled at him. The boy whispered a plea, tears stinging his eyes as he watched you stumble to your feet in a grave attempt to escape the repeated blows being landed on you. 

“Anything, I’ll do anything, please!”

The demon liked the sound of that. Yuji could feel the control slipping away from him, his consciousness being sucked up by the all consuming darkness lurking within. For just a moment, he fought against it, staring up at you in an almost drunken haze. 

“I’m sorry. Please,” He called out to you, voice hoarse and morphing into one you didn’t recognize. “Just look away.”

In mere seconds, the boy you loved was shifting before your eyes. His features were sharpening; sinister, black marks pooling onto his skin like ink. The second set of eyes below his own snapped open, and they were looking right at you. Maybe, Sukuna thought, if he saw it for himself he’d understand, without the barrier of this boy’s soul in the way. Still, as he stared into your fearful eyes, he felt nothing but indifference-- no-- disgust. 

Jagged chunks of concrete rubble sliced through the air around you, knocking into your already weak body, some even slicing through the special grade in front of you. Blinking back the dust that invaded your sight, when your eyes opened again, the curse was desecrated; an explosion of grotesque, purple evidence of what it once was. 

Sukuna didn’t care to save you. What enticed him more for the approximate two minutes he had left in control of this body, was breaking down the brat a little. In all fairness, when you stood there so helplessly, so vulnerable with eyes full of fear before him, how could he resist? His impossibly sharp teeth flashed under the moon’s light as he stepped toward you, torn shirt hanging loosely off his shoulder and chest. 

You wanted to apologize to Yuji, to tell him that you tried to look away like he’d asked. It wasn’t a fair request though. No, not when your best friend, the boy you loved, was being held hostage. You feared if you looked away he might do something awful to him-- unaware of what lurked in the dark chasm of his thusfar imprisoned mind. 

“I’ve gotta say,” Sukuna’s gravelly voice reached your ears. It didn’t hold that playfully boyish cadence you had come to love. In its place was one that mocked you, laughing boisterously in the face of your trembling fear and anticipation of what he’d do next. “In the flesh, you’re pretty underwhelming.”

You gulped down the bile that threatened to rise from your stomach. Still crumpled on the ground from the last hit you’d taken, you weren’t sure if you should attempt to stand; unsure if he’d find that acceptable. Sukuna tilted his head at your silence, taking two slow and calculated steps forward. 

“Disgusting.” He spat suddenly, gripping you by your elbow to haul you up. You yelped in surprise, trying not to shed the tears that welled in your eyes at the sting of his nails against your skin. “This brat spends day in and day out allowing himself to be consumed. And for this?”

Your brows furrowed at his words, and you pulled against his grip. 

“Give him back.” You gritted through your teeth, fear igniting your body in tremors. 

Sukuna’s red eyes, all four of them, lit up sinsiterly, grin widening in a manner that appeared painful. You realized for that split second that he likely didn’t have much time at all to wreak havoc, and he was enjoying this. He wanted to hurt you-- to hurt Yuji, even with the limited scope of his abilities at the moment. 

“How romantic.” He cooed mockingly. His hand came up to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look into the eyes of your best friend, but he wasn’t there. Your stray tear betrayed you, slipping down your mangled cheek. Leaning forward with gusto, he licked a debauched stripe up the path your traitorous tear had taken, cackling madly as the salt tainted his tongue. Pushing you back a bit, his voice was suddenly booming, cracking at your abused eardrums with fervor. “All day!”

You tried to keep your face neutral, to be unwilling to give up the shred of dignity you had left-- for Yuji. 

“All day this brat pines and trembles and burns with the thought of you-- pathetic!”

For a moment, you felt your heart stop at his words. Surely he wasn’t implying that Yuji, even in the slightest sense, saw past more than just your friendship. You knew you shouldn’t. It wasn’t him, but your lips were moving to a different rhythm than your mind was, and you were whispering to him in hushed bewilderment, 

“What?”

“And you’re so stupidly oblivious, too? How revolting.” Despite his disgusted words, the baleful smile on his face grew that much wilder. It struck you then, how much you had disconnected yourself from the fact that the body before you, holding your body weight up with a deafening grip on your jaw, was Yuji. You didn’t see him. When you looked at that pink hair and felt the familiar curves of his hands, he wasn’t your best friend. “I suppose you’re not the only ignorant one. I can practically feel the way your weak little heart pounds everytime that brat looks at you.”

Your cheeks were burning at this point, and if he couldn’t see it in the dim moonlight, he could surely feel the heat under his mean fingers. Blinking away your tears, you willed your lip to stop trembling. 

“He doesn’t know it, you know.” Sukuna chuckled, spurred on by your painful silence. “I spend all day having to listen to him whine about his unreciprocated, little love-sick infatuation.”

It was making your stomach churn, the way he was turning your feelings for one another, ones that you were only now becoming privy to, into something so revolting. The words falling from his lips were ones you prayed so long to hear. You had spent so many sleepless nights staring back at your best friend where he laid sprawled out on the other side of your bed, both of you too traumatized from the day’s monstrosities to sleep alone-- to leave each other. This isn’t how you wanted to find out though. 

Amongst the desecration of your normal lives, you wanted to grasp onto the hope of innocence, of pure and untouched love and fondness. You hoped for bashful confessions and spontaneous kisses, ones that were purely Yuji’s intent. Sukuna was snatching the opportunity right from beneath you two, and he knew it. 

You shook your head, or tried to with the grip that was forcing your gaze on him. 

“My days are filled with his insolent whining, and I don’t find solace at night either.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think by the eager way he was spilling these thoughts out to you that he was happy to spend his fortitude in such a manner. You did know better though, and you knew what he enjoyed was the chance of domestic normalcy he was ripping away from the boy that held him hostage. “No, he touches himself at night.”

“Stop it.” You spat, unable to hold back the dam of your tears any longer. They spilled freely down your cheeks, and you swore you could see his red eyes roll into the back of his head. Your weak hands came up in a desperate attempt to shield your ears from the intimate secrets Yuji likely never intended for you to hear-- not like this anyway. The hand that held your jaw quickly fell, and he laced his fingers through yours mockingly, forcing you to listen. 

“That brat thinks of you all night when he’s beating himself off like the degenerate he is. Sometimes he calls out your name too, when he--”

You couldn’t take it anymore, feeling as though you might throw up. Above all else, your heart ached for Yuji, and you wondered if he could hear what was going on, if he was clawing his way out. You wanted to apologize to him, tell him you never meant to find out this way. You wished you could forget.

“Yuji!” 

Your cry made the demon smile, but it quickly faded with a knowing furrow of his brows. Eyes drooping lazily as he looked toward you, he shook his head. The marks on his face were slowly absorbing back into his skin. His upper lip curled in disgust. 

“Pathetic.”

In an instant, he was falling to the floor limply, bringing you down with him. When you looked up in a frenzied haze at the head that fell onto your chest, you noted with relief that it was Yuji again. His eyes fluttered open deliriously, taking in his surroundings. Looking up, he was met by your grief-stricken expression, fresh tears clinging to your face. His freshly healed arms were pulling himself up clumsily, hovering over you in a way that made it obvious that fear was gripping at every nerve in his body. 

“What— what did he do? Are you okay?” 

It was Sukuna’s very intention, the manner in which you had no choice but to see Yuji so differently now. As he hovered over you, unintentionally entrapping you under his tensing arms and bare chest, you couldn’t help but blush as the curse’s words rang in your mind. The thought of the boy you’d dreamt about for so long thinking of you in such a way, touching himself to the thought of you, longing for you-- and he was right there within your reach. 

“You… you don’t remember?” You whispered, trying to calm your racing heart. 

Yuji quickly shook his head, his comforting brown eyes tracing down your body as if to assess the damages. When his hands molded around your waist to pull your shirt up, the one that was slowly flooding through with blood from the gash on your side, you gasped and flinched away. He gulped back his nausea at the racing thoughts of what Sukuna could have done to you to warrant such a response. His hands reeled back to his sides, and he sat back on his knees. 

“I got pretty messed up back there… I think I was still healing.” he explained slowly, wanting so badly to help you, but unsure of how you viewed him now-- how scared you were of him. What he didn’t know was that you weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you wanted to pull him in, hold him close, tell him that you’ve loved him all this time as well. It should have been an idyllic occasion. In the back of your mind though, you knew if Yuji hadn’t confessed to you himself already then there was likely a reason, and you shouldn’t force the decision onto him just because the curse residing in him ripped away the layers of protection that shrouded those feelings. “Please, I’m sorry. What did he do to you?”

He didn’t remember, and maybe it was better that way. At least one of you could be spared the humiliation. It took some time, but you had convinced Yuji that you were simply shaken up from the fight, though you felt he still wasn’t entirely convinced. His movements were painfully careful as he carried you to safety. It was so clear in the way he touched you with such delicacy, that he feared scaring you more than he thought he already had. 

You stared up at the ceiling that night, tears clouding your vision as you toyed with the edge of the gauze that wrapped your abdomen. In all the time you two had known each other, you couldn’t wrap your head around why he was so scared of opening up to you about the monster he shared a body with. Countless nights you’d spent after missions, as he stared unblinkingly at a wall, begging him to confide in you. In just under five minutes with the thing though, you understood the cruelty he was trying to protect you from. 

There was a soft knock on your door, and you lifted your head up as it slid open. Yuji stood tentatively at the entrance, looking like the absolute picture of health compared to your mangled self. He was scratching at the back of his head awkwardly, a little quirk you’d grown to love, much like everything else about him. Flashing you his attempt at a bashful smile, he tilted his head at you. 

“Thought you could use some company.” He offered. It was somewhat of a routine of yours to meet together after a particularly grueling mission. The two of you would lay in bed, facing each other with moronic smiles on your lips as you talked about everything-- everything but the horrors you’d witnessed. It was the only way you could find yourself calm enough to fall asleep. If you two talked each other’s ears off about the comparable strength of two manga characters, or argued halfheartedly over what was the superior horror movie in your already trash-fire line up, if you distracted one another line by line-- the two of you would forget about what you saw. Just long enough to allow your eyes to forcefully drift in exhaustion. 

Now though, as he stared undecisively at you, you could tell he wasn’t sure if he would still be allowed such privileges. Despite being lost in the labyrinth of your own mind over the night’s events-- over him-- you smiled softly for his sake and patted the spot beside you. Your breath hitched as he eagerly closed the door behind him and climbed into bed beside you. His sigh of relief fanned over the side of your face despite his attempt at concealing it. You felt his eyes on you, his body already on its side and facing you, awaiting for you to do the same. 

“Oh, your side.” Yuji sighed in ackowledgement, and you simply nodded in agreement, not wanting to reveal that you simply couldn’t look him in the eyes without bursting on the spot. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he reached out to softly graze his hand over the wounded area. The boy saw the way your breath hitched and your expression shifted, slowly retracting his hand. “Listen, I’m sorry for whatever happened back there. Please, look at me.”

A little piece of your heart broke off at the pained desperation in his tone. Blinking back the tears that threatened to form, you turned your head to the side to look in his wide, distraught eyes. Softening your gaze, you struggled against your pain as you forced yourself on your side to face him. 

“No, Yuji, it’s okay--”

“No it’s not!” In an instant, he was sitting up, looking down at you as his chest heaved with purposeful breaths. “He’s taken everything from me, and I…”

His shoulders slumped, and a rosy tint rushed to his cheeks. 

“I won’t let him take you too-- I can’t. So, please, just tell me what I have to do to make you not scared of me anymore, and I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do anything.”

Unable to take it anymore, you moved to sit up with a grunt. Yuji’s hands quickly shot out to help you until you were facing him. He looked back at you with such conviction, such longing in his gaze, and, with hindsight bias, you wondered how you never saw it sooner. 

“You’re my best friend, Yuji… I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Then why can’t you look me in the eyes?”

You pursed your lips, tentatively taking his hands into yours to hold them between you two. His breath hitched ever so slightly at the connection. Scraping your thumb over his knuckle absentmindedly in a manner that was scrambling his brain like eggs, you thought carefully on your next words. 

“You don’t think anything could ruin our friendship… right?” You asked timidly, eyes meeting his through your lashes. His brows furrowed at your question, and he found himself leaning forward to gaze into you sincerely, shaking his head quickly. 

“Nothing. Don’t you think we’ve been through too much together already? You’re kinda stuck with me.”

The hesitantly joking tone in his voice made you smile softly. Yuji had a way of easing your anxiety that way, as if there was a little door in your mind that only he had the key to open up and gaze into whenever he pleased. It gave you more confidence to continue your pursuit.. 

“And there aren’t any secrets between us? Nothing you’ve… not told me?”

Gulping thickly, he felt his face pale. There was something he was keeping from you, something he had come to terms with being content with if it meant he’d never put your relationship in jeopardy. An attempted smile broke into his face, but the corners of his lips were twitching anxiously. You could have melted at the sight. 

 “Uh… no. You know I tell you everything.” The lie stumbled from his lips unconvincingly. Your lips set into a firm line as you shot him a knowing yet playful look. Suddenly, his eyes were darting everywhere but you. They were at your hands, on your nose, on the ceiling, anywhere that would allow him to gather his thoughts. “Is this about the dent in your bathroom wall? Cause I promise I have a good explaination, a-and I was going to tell you, but you were already upset about the--”

“I love you.” It fell from your lips, permanent, unable to be drawn back in. In truth, the both of you could have died that night. Yuji was practically pinned under a building, and you had been face to face with the king of curses. The sentiment of either of you dying without having heard the depths of your feelings for one another was not lost on you. The lifestyles you led were perilous, self-sacrificing, and morbid. You already lived in fear that your next mission would be your last, and, as you were blanketed by the comfort brought upon by the proximity of the boy you loved so dearly, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel this type of fear too. Not for Yuji. 

“Take it back.”

Okay, maybe his blunt order hurt more than the boulder that flew into your side earlier, but you still stood by what you said. A small, breathless gasp fell from your lips as you stared at his solemn expression. 

“Oh,” you muttered out meekly, and, despite your burning embarrassment, you couldn’t tear your eyes from his. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I wanted to say it to you first.” He reiterated, his lips pulled to the side in frustration, eyebrows furrowed as he regarded you. “I spent years thinking of what I wanted to say to you. Take it back.” 

Relief flooded your system like a drug, flowing through your veins and relaxing your constricting muscles. In its place came a bashful flush at his words. Smiling softly in disbelief, you shook your head a bit.

“Okay,” you drew out slowly, watching him square his muscles back as if preparing for his line. “I take it back.” 

Despite his previous determination and insistence that he had something profound to say, all he could do was lean forward to press his lips against yours clumsily. He couldn’t help himself, not with the way your twinkling eyes stared up at him expectantly, glimmering with an excitement he felt he was alone with for years. A muffled huff of surprise from you was swallowed right up by his eager lips as he lunged forward to deepen the connection he’d just forged. 

“‘M sorry,” Yuji mumbled against your mouth, reaching up to grip at the side of your face as if you’d ever run from him. “Know I talked all that shit, but I forgot what I was gonna say. I love you. I just love you. I’ve always loved you.”

He didn’t allow you any room for a response because his desperate push against your lips had you leaning back to accommodate the sudden weight, and you fell back against your pillow. The boy eagerly chased you, crawling over your panting form to pour out all the soliloquies he longed to spill out to you with some semblance of eloquence, he wanted it all conveyed to you through his frenzied devouring of you. 

Your mind was reeling with his sudden urgency, and you quickly came to the realization that the both of you had been living with this fear of passing one another up. Your hand snaked up to run along his chest, daring to explore up his neck and into the tufts of his pink hair. A soft moan of your name had you blushing profusely, suddenly remembering what Sukuna had told you about the extent of Yuji’s desires for you. You wondered if this was what he sounded like when he called out to you at night with his hands wrapped around himself. Squinting your eyes, you willed your imagination to take a quick u-turn, remembering that that wasn’t information Yuji had given up willingly. 

“Say it back.” Yuji suddenly demanded, finally tearing away from his assault on your lips to stare down at you determinedly. “Say it again.” 

Your free hand came up to cup his cheek. There was so much fear and guilt and sadness pent up in your chest at the prospect of what Sukuna had taken from him that night. It had never been like you to lie to him or keep things from him. As your thumb ran across his bottom lip lovingly, and he looked so accomplished, so content with how this night had somehow progressed in his favor, you realized that the curse hadn’t taken anything from him. Not when you were there to make sure that kind of hatred never touched him. 

“I love you too, Yuji.” 

His wide, boyish grin lit up the dim room. Swinging back down with fervor, the two of you laughed against each other as your teeth clashed messily. Humming contentedly, his wandering hands traveled down your side and snuck up your shirt. God, he’d dreamed of this for so long, and you were right there- underneath of him and pliable to his every touch. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, he could feel it in the way his boxers tightened uncomfortably against him, but he feared he may wake up at any second back in his dorm room alone, like he had so many times following his messianic dreams about what it may be like to have you. 

As his fingers creeped up, you flinched against his fervent grasp that lit your wounded side ablaze. Yuji was suddenly reminded of the night’s events, and he cursed quietly before reluctantly pulling away from you. Looking down at your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, an unbrittled exhilaration swirled in his chest. There would be so many more nights with you, he would make sure of it. He leaned forward to press a last, longing and solemn kiss against your forehead-- a promise that you two would come back to this. 

Carefully, he pulled his grasp away from your wounded side and settled down beside you. Unlike those countless nights the two of you shared a bed, Yuji laid snuggly against you, locking your knees under his strong legs. With his head propped up on his elbow, he beamed down at you, lovestruck as he affectionately tugged your shirt back down. As his fingers lingered against the protruding gauze, his expression creased a bit.

“You… you never told me what Sukuna did.”

Although he hated that he felt the need to ruin the moment with such dark thoughts, no amount of lust could have driven that fear from the back of his mind. Your smile faltered marginally at his words. Thinking of how excited he was to confess to you, and how ardently he fell into this new role so comfortably with you, exploring you with an innocence that was a stark contrast to the dark world you two traversed, you shook your head. Leaning up to press an assuring kiss to his cheek, you looked right at the slits under his eyes, as if daring the curse to acknowledge you. 

“He didn’t do a damn thing.”

masterlist.

[ghostedeabha]

simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader

wc: 894

warnings: chronic illness, mentions of acid reflux and nausea, mentions and descriptions of chronic pain. it's implied that reader is autistic and adhd but never explicitly mentioned. migraines. other than that, pure fluff.

a/n: this is absolutely a personal lil comfort fic i wrote bc i'm chronically ill and disabled lol. hope y'all enjoy. i tried to keep it broad and not mention specific illnesses so anyone with a chronic disability can read, but my experience with chronic illnesses and disabilities are based solely on my own and thus may accidently exclude certain illnesses.

it was more often than not that simon came home to the flat like this, and it never failed to break his heart a little bit every time. dirty dishes untoched in the sink, clothes strewn about. just generally messy and dirty.

it’s not as if simon had left the flat alone during his deployment, quite the opposite in fact. and anyone who knew that fact and saw the state of the flat would probably tell simon that his girlfriend was clearly lazy and didn't care for his things.

simon, however, knew that was far from the truth. he stepped over the dirty clothes and past the sink of dirty dishes, he’d deal with all that later, and made his way to the bedroom where he knew he’d find his love. find her in the exact spot he had left her no doubt.

his suspicions only confirmed when he opened the door slowly, giving it a gentle knock first as to alert her of his arrival. as he stepped into the room, placing his bag down by the door as he closed it behind him, he looked over to his girlfriend, curled up in a pile of blankets in the dark room. simon took note that the lights were completely shut off and the blackout curtains pulled over the window.

“hey bunny…” simon says quietly as he approaches the bed with careful steps, his deep, gruff voice barely a whisper. “got a migraine?”

his girlfriend’s response came in the form of just slightly moving blankets and a small face poking out from a tiny hole in the pile of warmth and plush. her pretty face etched with that permenant pout she had when she was having flare ups.

she needn’t respond to his question for him to know her answer.

“take your migraine medicine?” simon asks gently again, no condescending intentions, he knew the answer was one of two things. ‘yes and it barely helped’ or ‘no, i have none left’

when his girlfriend shakes her head no, he instantly knows that the latter option is her current situation, and his heart breaks further. it was too late to take those meds now, even if he ran to the pharmacy just up the road and got her refill. they were preventative meds, not relief.

“would you like to go to the hospital?” simon questions further, he holds up both hands and his girlfriend pokes the right.

‘no.’

“okay, then… how about i go and get you some chips and a soda? maybe that combo will help, want to try that luvie?” he suggests, his hands held up again.

this time she pokes the left.

‘yes.’

“perfect.” simon responds, kissing her blanketed forehead. “i’ll be back in 10 with a large chips and a large dr. pepper. want anything else? have you eaten at all today?”

yet again his lovely girlfriend shakes her head no and her hand pokes out to point towards her lanyard on the nightstand.

“your cards?” simon asks, despite this he’s already grabbing the shark lanyard and handing it to his baby.

she takes it with a weak, forced smile. only on her lips to show her love and gratitude for his help before the mask slips and her pained pout returns to her face. no big deal, simon understands it’s not a reflection on her feelings to him.

uncapping the marker she writes on the blank, laminated card on her lanyard, part of a set of communication cards.

'didn't eat. too much nausea and acid reflux.’

“oh, okay. then just the chips and soda.” simon confirms with a firm nod. “i’ll be back in 10, doll.”

and as promised, he’s back in 10 minutes flat. ice, cold dr. peper and some hot, salty chips in his possession. a small smile on his face at the sight of slight progress in his lover’s state, instead of a pitch black room she sat in a mostly dim room with the tv quietly playing an episode of Bob’s Burgers.

“here y’are. made sure to get them nice and hot. want some ketchup?” simon says with a gentle tone, a stark contrast to the man he had to be just 12 hours prior.

when she nods, simon is quick to go to the kitchen, coming back with the bottle of ketchup for his beloved. he sits on the bed next to the blanket monster that his girlfriend currently was and handed the bottle of ketchup to her, holding out a little cup for her to squirt however much she wanted into.

even moments like these simon treasured. many would see his girlfriend as a burden, why? well he wasn't really sure. but simon didn't. he felt a sense of purpose being able to help her when she needs it, plus, what was better than coming home from deployment and snuggling with his princess? even if his princess was more of a blanket moutain than anything right now.

the two adjusted to make them both comfortable and cozy, blankets surrounding them both as simon held his darling close, large hands gently rubbing up and down her sides in a soothing manner, happy to relax with her and watch tv.

simon would take this here, over the battlefield anyday.

[kiwiana-writes]

hi MJ!! for the sleepover weekend asks, i'd love some fluffy and a few hurt/comfort firstprince fic recs! and and for fmk: bea, june and nora from rwrb! okay thats it byebye ~saturday xoxo

Forgive me: I sat on this one for so long it's now officially NEXT weekend, at least in my part of the planet, so I guess answering this is also me kicking off this weekend's slumber party 😅

I'm doing FMK first, even though I need you to know this is CRUEL. Fuck Nora, marry Bea, kill June, but I am absolutely relying on Nora's smarts/Pez's cash to get her out of this situation.

Anyway:

FLUFFY FIRSTPRINCE FIC RECS

take me back to San Francisco by @getmehighonmagic: this has a sequel languishing in my emails for that magical future day when I'm capable of reading again but I have no doubt it'll be just as incredible as part one, which is FUCKING DIVINE. Also I just... really wanna go to San Francisco.

You love me! You love me? by anarchyat4am: How often I shoehorn a rec for this fic wherever it might be even remotely applicable is sort of a running joke by this point but I stand by it actually. This is a massive comfort fic for my trans ass.

Confidential Memorandum by @sherryvalli: this fic is so stinkin' cute I feel like I need to book a dental appointment every time I read it.

Dick, Dick, Dick (You Down) by @everwitch-magiks: do I feel a deep abiding kinship with Henry's anxiety being read as rudeness in this fic? Maybe, shut up.

Getting Clinical by @cha-melodius: Yes I'm biased because this was a gift for me, no I don't care, IT'S A FUCKING DELIGHT.

In His Wildest Dreams by @myheartalivewrites: This fic is a fucking fluffy blanket of joy.

If at first you don't succeed by @clottedcreamfudge: I am lowkey obsessed with CCF second first impressions and Alex being blissfully unaware until he's not.

HURT/COMFORT FIRSTPRINCE FIC RECS

a shard or two by @aeithalian: you don't read WIPs? I don't care. Read this one. I beg of you. Hands down the most criminally underrated fic in this entire fandom in my opinion. It is so, SO good. I reread it all the time in between chapters, I am hoping DESPERATELY the author will let me ficbind it when it's done, and I will scream about it from the fucking ROOFTOPS to convince y'all to read it. No cliffhangers, no relationship drama, just the meatiest post-canon deliciousness.

(but i knew you) baby, kiss it better by saintsnames: age gap my beloved, sex bloopers my beloved, two idiots in love MY BELOVED.

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie) and even though we know it isn't true by @matherines: double-reccing even though these can be read separately because HAHA OUCH MY HEART. Both of these fics just fucking flayed me alive????

you were more than just a short time by @hypnostheory: DAVID 😭😭😭😭😭😭 mind the living fuck out of the tags but FUCK this is good. Heartbreaking, but good.

Downburst by @cricketnationrise had me clutching my face from start to finish I swear to god.

So I Will Weather the Storm by @sparklepocalypse: while reading this, picture me just screaming ALEX YOU FUCKING DUMBASS at my computer the entire time and it'll be like you were right here with me the first time I read it!

The Domestication of Household Spiders by @cultofsappho: if Spider-Man Alex has no fans I am dead etc etc. This is so fucking SOFT from start to finish.

[Sleepover weekend!]

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from August :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June July

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Teach Me a Lesson (Already Learned) by whenitstarted

Word Count: 3142 Summary: Will being married to Molly and cheating on her with Hannibal.

Literally just PWP because I wanted to scratch the cheating itch.

Just Thought You Should Know by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 22370 Summary: Two years after marrying Molly, Will is restless and unhappy, unable to stop thinking about Hannibal and missing his incarcerated cannibal despite all the reasons why he knows it's wrong. One night, things come to a head when Hannibal finds a way to call him. A series of sensual phone encounters begs the question of how long Will can possibly resist the desire which Hannibal so expertly cultivates.

Oh this one was GOOD. I love anything that happens in the three years Will is with Molly. The angst, the porn, chefs kiss.

More Myself Than I Am by StratsWrote

Word Count: 9176 Summary: Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to.It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

Soulmate AU! Hannibal absolutely hating the bond at first felt very on brand and this was just very good.

coyote chewing on a cigarette by antiheroblake

Word Count: 5145 Summary: hannibal wants someone to care for him until he’s bequeathed his family fortune, but he doesn’t want to deal with the near-elderly perverts his friend calls their “sugar daddy”. that’s when he sets his sites on the sullen and newly rich will graham

okay if you aren't reading this series, what are you doing?? every. single. installment. is a five star!!!

No It Don't Come Easy by nobetterlove

Word Count: 10759 Summary: Will had the good sense to blush then, both Hannibal’s words and his previous actions making his heart pound hard in his chest. “Actually, uh – “ Will started, his hand reaching back to rub along his suddenly stiff neck. “I told him I was seeing someone.” Blue eyes looked up slowly, Will more than curious as to what Hannibal’s reaction would be. “Well, that’s – “ Hannibal tried to say but was cut off by Will speaking again. “I said it was you. Or implied it, at least.” There was a moment of silence where Hannibal didn’t blink or look away or even breath. Maroon eyes took Will in with shocking efficiency – he felt like Hannibal was everywhere in that moment, surrounding him in all ways possible. “You told Jack Crawford that you were seeing me.” Or: a Hannigram fake dating AU

i'm a whore for a fake dating fic, y'all know who i am.

Oddbodies by toffeecape

Word Count: 72714 Summary: Will is an off-brand sentinel. Hannibal is a reputable guide. What could go wrong?

i knew nothing about Sentinel AUs before reading this one, but i found it was perfectly well explained within the fic! and wow this was SO well done! it fits so well into canon and was just a treat to read.

This Isn't Rapture by moistdrippings

Word Count: 7467 Summary: Will wakes with a fever, and Hannibal prescribes some unconventional treatments.

yeah, just gonna drop this one here.

stink in the nostrils by murdertrout

Word Count: 49137 Summary: Secret Omega Hannibal is not pleased that he has imprinted on Will Graham. He avenges himself on his biology by getting Will Graham put behind bars. But when Will figures out what he’s been hiding and tampers with his suppressants, triggering his first heat, they both get more than they bargained for. Alternate S2b if it were entirely A/B/O porn.

LOVED THIS.

A Most Gentle Death by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 8956 Summary: “What is that?” Will asks tightly.“A blend of benzodiazepines and barbiturates,” Hannibal says. “It will render one unconscious, immobile, and largely insensate.”Will stares at the syringe in shocked disbelief. The shame and embarrassment are still present, but have taken a backseat to dry-mouthed, hopeless longing. Hannibal turns the syringe end on end between his fingers. “Would you like me to administer it to myself?” he asks.

there is something so satisfying about Hannibal not being phased by pretty much anything that Will wants.

A Wolf in the Night by itsbeautiful

Word Count: 3857 Summary: “Leave them on…” Will rumbled, grabbing hair and pushed a head down his stomach. “…and suck my cock.”Hannibal looked up with a dark stare and a head tilt, struggling to catch his breath. “No ‘please?’”“I know…I don’t need to ask, politely or otherwise, to get what I want from you now.”Red eyes glittered with hunger, tongue flicking out to taste the power left on lips.“Isn’t that what you wanted, Doctor Lecter? For me to take what I want from you.”

i'm pretty sure i just love anything this author writes, wow. you don't technically need to have read Transcendent Suffering, but it'll make more sense if you have.

When It Clicks by summerisblue

Word Count: 29838 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been spending a lot of time together lately.Because they’re friends, Will likes to reason. Will likes to tell Hannibal that too, just to clarify. Hannibal might be more than a little frustrated.

this one really hit my "oblivious sugar baby Will Graham" button. i love him so much.

Your Ex by murdertrout

Word Count: 3810 Summary: “What was your last relationship like?”“Uh,” Will says. “Intense.”“Good intense or bad intense?”“Yes,” Will says.“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Molly says, “but I just want you to know you can.”In retrospect, this is a mistake.--We usually assume that Will clammed up about his past when he was with Molly. But what if actually Will tells Molly way, way, way too much about his relationship with Hannibal?Or, the one where Will starts talking about his “ex" and doesn't stop.

i love when Will is an idiot. this fic was just silly and perfect.

Ball Toss by raiast

Word Count: 22307 Summary: The carnival AU no one asked for. Hannibal accompanies Alana to a carnival and meets one Will Graham, whose game booth is less than above board. Hannibal does not approve.

YES YES YES. i really loved this dark Will!!

Pushing Comfort by lurid_erotic_intimacy (virtuous_contract)

Word Count: 14559 Summary: Habitually, Hannibal keeps his steps quiet as he makes his way to Will’s upper floor. It’s probably nothing out of the ordinary that has kept Will from making their morning session (not a session, a conversation). Still, it’s best to know for certain.Or: Will starts missing his appointments. Hannibal is happy to investigate why. Can be read as a canon-insert. A quite sweet and kink-flavoured getting together story.

this was sweeter than i would have expected it to be based on the tags, but mmmm this hit the right buttons for me!

a world of hurt by divinetheatre

Word Count: 7213 Summary: Will takes it slow, pausing between the strikes to let Hannibal work through the sensations, patient — for now. In time, when Hannibal’s self control wavers, and his knees start to kiss one another after every spanking, Will will pin him open and punish him for that too. Relentlessly.

well, we learn new things about ourselves every single day, right?

i know who you are by divinetheatre

Word Count: 14125 Summary: Will turned again as though the turmoil in Hannibal’s heart had clamored loud enough for him to hear. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. What Hannibal might’ve said, the last thing he could’ve admitted to Will, did not pass his lips. Will strode to him and grasping Hannibal’s face in both hands, kissed him. Deep and hot with passion that did not surprise Hannibal but overwhelmed him. He’d known it would be this way, but he had never been prepared. Not entirely.

Vulnerable Hannibal and Will being the most tender understanding human? Give me moreeeeeeeee.

a sort of madness by divinetheatre

Word Count: 5239 Summary: He chose me.The euphoric mantra echoes through his mind as he drags the panties down Hannibal’s long, slim legs. They open for him. The slick heat betwixt dampens the coverlet for him. What happens to Hannibal’s body after this is because of him.

i had to stop and remember to breathe multiple times during this fic so. do what you will with that information.

Secretary by FragileTeacup

Word Count: 77469 Summary: Will Graham needs a job. Since quitting the FBI, he’s been adrift for months, broken and lost; chasing a desire he doesn’t understand in increasingly destructive ways. What he needs is stability, direction, something to help put his life back in order and quiet the buzzing in his head. A chance encounter with the classifieds might just give him exactly what he needs. Secretary Wanted.Dr. H. Lecter. Psychiatric private practice.Typing and good manners essential.Must follow direction.

THE secretary AU. need i say more??

Layover by raiast

Word Count: 16978 Summary: When Hannibal misses his connecting flight to DC he is forced to obtain a hotel room for the evening. When the last remaining room is seemingly double-booked he realizes that the adult thing to do is generously offer to share the space. And if the other man in need of lodging happens to be a seemingly disheveled, ill-mannered and altogether beautiful stranger, well, that's just fine.

ONLY ONE BED ONLY ONE BED. alternate first meeting AU that i adored.

Scent of a Woman by Devereauxs_Disease

Word Count: 4860 Summary: After the fall, Will assumed he and Hannibal would progress to a romantic relationship. So when Hannibal comes home smelling of fancy perfume, Will is...distressed. How do serial killers handle jealousy and romantic confessions? Not well, y'all...NOT WELL.

they're both so stupid and i love them. Hannibal's behavior had me cracking up because of course he would behave this way.

Will Graham Had a Secret by hannigramsarah (WrightworthSarah)

Word Count: 4442 Summary: Will Graham has a somewhat slutty past. What happens when he meets Hannibal Lecter and discovers his proclivities may not be as secret as he might have hoped?

this was lovely.

Something Borrowed by BelladonnaWyck

Word Count: 11206 Summary: “What’s wrong with your green card?” Will can’t hope to stop the words from tumbling forth - didn’t even know they were about to spill from his mouth when he opened it - and his cheeks flush when he realizes how intrusive and presumptuous that question is.

Hannibal is Hannibal and they are perfet. i need more green card proposals STAT.

Touch by raiast

Word Count: 10902 Summary: From the kinkmeme prompt:"Going into an intense heat, Will volunteers to be shared and passed around by a group of Alphas. Hannibal finds out. Does he stop it from even happening? Sneak in and sign in to join the group?"What happens when an Omega with a voyeurism kink signs up for a Public Heat and his possessive Alpha psychiatrist applies for a volunteer position? Hint: lots of knotting, lots of come, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of bloodshed.

FERAL WILL GRAHAM. i really don't think i need to say more.

put your aching teeth to good use, my dear by wormsin

Word Count: 10516 Summary: alternate a/b/o ending to Fromage. when Will sees Hannibal in his office, bloody but alive, he goes into a feral rut. Hannibal tries to pacify him.

again, feral Will Graham just hits all the right buttons.

Tender by McRibFarewellTour

Word Count: 5117 Summary: "Will loved the violence, of course he did, but he loved Hannibal more, and he wanted there to be a clear distinction between the two. He wanted proof that Hannibal loved him, Will Graham, not anyone else who could be convinced to empathize with a serial killer. He didn’t want to push Hannibal against a wall, he wanted to hold and be held by him."A defense of seeking gentleness in a world of violence.

OUCH. in the best way possible, big ouch.

Husband Under Contract by house_of_lantis

Word Count: 49685 Summary: Count Hannibal Lecter has always enjoyed his bachelorhood and freedom, preferring to live a life as an established gentleman and lord of his estate. But Hannibal finds himself married and the last thing he wants is a clingy, tedious spouse who expects romance and to take advantage of Hannibal’s wealth and social status. Will Graham couldn’t care less about the arranged marriage as long as he can keep his job and keep his dogs. He’s amused by Hannibal’s attempts to manipulate him; and when he finally gets Hannibal in bed, he thanks him for a good time and returns to his own suite. What will Hannibal do when he realizes that he’s completely in love with his husband? And can Will ever see past their marriage contract to sharing a real life of love and passion?

An incredible royalty (kind of?) AU. i love how Will just does not give a fuck about upsetting Hannibal, much to the horror of the house staff.

pretty words from a silver tongue by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 3595 Summary: Will’s hookups (as few and far in between as they are) always end the same; deliberate distance between bodies and a cold, empty bed come morning. No one ever stays the night.

touch starved and vulnerable Will??? sign me UP.

i could love you with my eyes closed by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 2276 Summary: In Will Graham's three and a half decades on this planet, no one has ever made him feel like this.or, Hannibal is a little TOO good in bed, leaving his boy a little... emotional.

relatable content.

Night Calls and Liquid Courage by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 4249 Summary: "How much did you drink, Will?”“All of it.”“All of it, hm? That certainly is a lot.” _________________ Beverly Katz hand-delivers a very flirty, very drunk Will Graham to Hannibal's doorstep in the middle of the night. Drunken confessions and lots of cuddling ensue.

fluffy goodness, what more could ya want?

your touch is my safety by feralwillgrhm

Word Count: 4183 Summary: Will had been touch-starved for a while, but he didn't realise how much he craved it until Hannibal came into his life and initiated touch between them repeatedly. It left him wanting more and trembling at night in bed, but he never knew how to tell Hannibal. That was until he finally cracked. Or: 5 times Hannibal touched Will and he barely kept things together, and 1 time he gave in.

this was so sweet and tender!!

I called your name ‘til the fever broke by omnilegent

Word Count: 4363 Summary: Hannibal tilted his head in that cat-like way of his and said, apropos of nothing, ‘I believe you are experiencing touch deprivation, Will.’Will was not in the fucking mood.‘I touch myself plenty, doctor.’ He snapped, realising what that sounded like after he was already committed to saying it and ultimately not really caring. He couldn’t be bothered for all this dancing around half truths via metaphors today.———Hannibal offers Will a helping hand in relieving his touch deprivation…

can y'all tell i was on a "touch starved Will Graham" kick? that's all this is.

the fire went wild (the flames went higher) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 15359 Summary: will takes hannibal out to make up for the shoes he didn’t get, but when hannibal tries to show his appreciation (and how poorly he can behave), will decides to show him something new

show me the places where the others gave you scars by madeofbees

Word Count: 4957 Summary: Will has a bad time at a bad scene; Hannibal helps.Or: if Will has such a strong empathy response to horror and violence, what would happen if Hannibal immersed him in pleasure?

can y'all imagine if this is what Hannibal had done from the start? jesus christ.

Heal Your Wolf(hound) Well by devotional_doldrums

Word Count: 53396 Summary: From a distance, Hannibal enjoys heightening Will’s sickness. But confronted with the injured man lying in his hospital bed… Hannibal’s not so sure he enjoys it, anymore. Chicken soup (for the serial killer’s soul).

i love getting to see Hannibal actively regret his choices. 10/10.

Crystalline by DruidGurl (DaoistDruid)

Word Count: 59216 Summary: Stripper!Hannibal AU (sort of) The proprietor of a successful restaurant, Hannibal (who may or may not be a serial killer and definitely WAS an exotic dancer in his youth) is coerced by an old acquaintance to take a job dancing at a bachelor party. When he shows up, he realizes a mistake has been made, but he also realizes something far more interesting: the groom to be is hotter than Mt. Vesuvius. Circumstance and intent lead the boys where it always should: into bed. A lot.

GIVE ME ALL OF THE CHEATING FICS PLEASE. Everything in this fic was top tier. Hannibal as a dancer? Hell yes. The dirty talk? Yes. The fucking all night long marathon sex sessions? YES. Will being an absolute SLUT for Hannibal??? YES PLEASE GOD.

all i want is you by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8892 Summary: We should do something tomorrow."Did you have anything in mind?“It’s your birthday.”Ah, he wishes it were so simple. If Hannibal were to wish for anything, it would be Will Graham underneath him, gasping, moaning, whispering his name while he placed claiming bites on his beautiful, porcelain throat. Such an image is so lovely… and so achingly far away. There is nothing wrong with wishing for it, but if it is a boundary that is never crossed, Hannibal can live with it. He can live this quiet, friendly, occasionally bloody life they live simply as friends if it means he continues to have it.That does not mean Hannibal won’t settle for his second favorite. (It isn’t really settling though; their shared hunts are the greatest adventures he’s ever had.)“Well, there is that dreadful Senor Pérez down at the docks…” _________________ A year after the fall. Hannibal and Will are friends and partners in crime, but nothing more. Hannibal is... fine with that. He is content having Will in any way that he is allowed if it means Will stays.Today is Hannibal's birthday. Will surprised him with a kiss.

This made me want to tear up in a good way. It is so TENDER. God, they are so soft and I love them.

le bel homme sans merci by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 7481 Summary: “La Belle Dame Sans Merci.” Will recites breathlessly.Hannibal lets out a pleased hum. “The painting is a rather whimsical rendition of the muse. Keats’ poem depicts a wretched end for the knight where he awakens alone in the field, abandoned by the love of his life, whereas Dicksee’s work focuses on the maiden’s affection and the knight’s surrender to his own heart. Everything he knows and feels, it all changes when he sees her for the first time." _________________ Hannibal leaves his sketchbook in Will's car. He can't stop himself from looking inside, from wanting to know, but he never expected every drawing to be of him.

Hannibal "accidentally" leaving his sketchbook in the car where Will will absolutely find it? Chefs kiss. THEY'RE IN LOVE.

Whiskey Lullaby by thisisthefamilybusiness

Word Count: 1943 Summary: Hannibal Lecter only gives one apology in his entire life, and it is to the man he never meant to kill, the one he murdered not with violence, not with a knife, not as the Chesapeake Ripper, but with assumptions and carelessness and arrogance, to Will Graham. (Fill for the following prompt on HannibalKink: "Alone on the Water-esque fic? "Will you miss me, Hannibal?" "Until the end of my days, William." For those not in the Sherlock fandom, it's basically a deathfic. You can do it with cancer, like AotW, or AIDS, Will's encephalitis....anything you want. Even maybe Hannibal killing Will and these are their last words? Just. Please. Hurt me.")

OUUUGGGHHHH. Thank you, Serri. Will dies because he's HIV+ and Hannibal didn't know and let the encephalitis get so bad that Will got full blown AIDS. Ouch.

Guidance by jonnimir

Word Count: 3511 Summary: Kinktober Day 30: Gagging + Swallowing.Will acts out at a party, and Hannibal helps him calm down by keeping his mouth otherwise occupied.

Will going into subspace!!! I do love a good cockwarming fic. (also this might be what i need when i'm throwing up an attitude shhhh...)

[kandicon]

Is nobody talking abt Nova Storm being a potential trans woman?? Like she not only takes Thundercracker's place but also has his sonic booms?? The show has gone over nonbinary people and gender conversations already, this is not out of the relm of possibility at all.

If nobody's gonna talk about it that just means I'm gonna talk EXTRA about it. Headcanon time.

Okay, so obviously Starscream was the one who did the surgery. He'd be all to happy to have unique colors w the removal of Thundercracker's blue and be the only boy in the group. The chance to stand out even more amongst his trine AND a free opportunity to stick his hands in some internals and do as he pleases?? HELL yes.

He was only a little upset that Nova Storm wanted to keep her sonic booms and he couldn't take that mechanism to stick into his own internals. Just a little.

Skywarp started doing makeup because Nova Storm took interest in it. Which of course meant Starscream also got into it too because he would not let his trine walk around with messy lipstick! Don't they know they're an extension of himself?! Their image is his image and they will look the best. Both Skywarp and Nova Storm have shaky hands from their outlier abilities. Good thing no-smudge paint can last without wear for months, no war or prison could ever get in the way of a perfect face of makeup.

Nova Storm realized she was a femme during the war, which is the main reason she got Starscream to do her transition and not a less biased, less unethical actual doctor. It had downfalls, but it was also one of the trine's closest times during the war. The three of them, all sitting around a room meticulously planning "Thundercracker's" death for months, because Nova Storm's a writer and no way she's gonna give up the chance to act out one her stories in real life. Skywarp is so proud of the fake tears she made at the news to this day (Starscream learned mascara just so Skywarp could wear some that day to get it all runny). Y'all will think that the Decepticons' most guarded secret has something to do with the war, or a Shockwave experiment, but no. The Decepticons' closest kept secret is Nova Storm's transition.

Everyone can kinda agree that it was probably the best for Nova's transition to be secret, "Thundercracker" was a very public figure as one of Starscream's trine. It would have been an easily available weakness for other Decepticons or Autobots to attack to hurt Starscream or Nova Storm. But the main reason was for the tragic death story potential and siblings scheming together.

Skywarp and Nova Storm definitely had their whole finishing each other's sentences before her transition, but they totally played it up even more afterwards.

Nova Storm got so happy and euphoric when people started to refer to her and Skywarp as sisters (usually with a negative "s" word before it. Ex. Scary, sinister, spooky, etc.). She still feels euphoric over it, but it's much more normal for her now and then she realizes she feels less about it because is so much more normal and common now and that makes her even happier. It's just a thing for her now!! It's a correct thing and it's natural and that's exactly how it's supposed to be.

[solomonssock]

You Will Go Nowhere Else

I never planned for this to be so long, but I love Asmodeus sm...expect nothing less from me.

Pairing: gn!reader x Asmodeus; Leviathan makes an active appearance, but isn't the focus of this fic (romantic feelings are heavily implied, but a relationship has not been established...yet)

TW: Cyberbullying, Slutshaming, Cursing, Alcohol use (Asmodeus is an emotional drinker), Suggestive (Its Asmodeus), unspecific yet hinted spoiler for those who haven’t reached level 20, Asmodeus (and all demons) can be possessive, and I’m trying to figure out demon mannerisms I’d like to establish so bear with me on this awkward journey

Word Count: ~4,700

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

So-called "weak" human subduing the Devildom's demon lords? It's more likely thank you think! WATCH OUT... YOU COULD BE NEXT!

Scoffing to yourself, you click off the Dreaddit thread to scroll through whatever else you could find under the "d/human" tag. You expected to make up some of the content, given that you and Solomon were quite literally the only two human exchange students in all nine circles. Yet, it wasn't any less unnerving that most of the top posts seemed to circulate around your "mysterious relationship" with the brothers.

At some level, you understood their fascination and hesitation with you. Your lone quest to free Belphegor during your first year was essentially the equivalent of what would happen if a lone demon managed to ensnare some of the Earth's top leaders under their command. You just wished they didn't have to be so mean about it.

This budding Dreaddit addiction of yours had started the evening prior, courtesy of Leviathan.

"ROFL, what an idiot!"

You two spent a good chunk of the night lounging on his extra-large beanbag chair, surfing Dreaddit posts under "d/R.A.D. memes" on his premium account. Leviathan had excitedly showed you his avatar's exclusive Ruri-chan t-shirt, emphasizing that 9.99 grimm a month was a necessary sacrifice for otakus everywhere, or at least those truly passionate about their fandoms. As his loyal Henry, you'd been privy to sensitive information regarding his identity as both creator and moderator of both the "d/TSLMerch" and "d/RuriChanUpd8s" forums.

"Levi," you chastise, “leave Mammon alone. This is already embarrassing enough."

A user by the name xXLuciferz_LegionzXx had uploaded footage of the second eldest being chased through the school halls by Cerberus.

"I-it's his own fault!" Levi defended. "He shouldn't have tried running off with the Council's debit card."

And try he did.

You watched as the video replayed from the beginning. The shaky scene followed Mammon as he rounded the corner in front of Potions Lab 3 with Cerberus hot on his tail. Looking backwards as he sprinted through the crowd of students, he failed to notice Lucifer already blocking the doors at end of the hall.

You cringed as the familiar "MAAAAAMOOONN" blew through the speakers.

Realizing his fuck up, Mammon skidded to a near-stop to pivot into the hall just before Lucifer. But it was too late. Cerberus, determined to catch the focus of his master's ire, latched onto his pantleg, and quickly pulled him back.

Except, only Mammon's pants went with him.

The video ended with the poor demon being pantsed as Lucifer menacingly appeared before the videographer.

After viewing it for the fifth time, you made a silent promise to treat Mammon to some lunch and TLC time this upcoming weekend.

"Levi. Please?" You sighed and pouted your lip a bit for good measure.

"F-fine, if it's that important to you." Flustered, he clicked off the video and flagged it for inappropriate content before he selected the home page.

"Thank you," you leaned your head on his shoulder, "I appreciate it."

A small squeak left Leviathan as he ducked his head further into his hoodie and kept scrolling.

"Oh? Levi, what's that one say?"

On the screen was a picture of you and Satan sitting together in the library. The time stamp confirmed it must have been taken this past Tuesday when Satan helped you review basic Enochian phrases. He'd recommended taking the language for your free elective this semester and offered to serve as your tutor.

Your brows furrowed as you looked at the post's heading.

"...who do they think they are?" You murmured. "What do they mean by that?"

You hadn't gotten any further as Leviathan quickly shut his laptop.

"Hey, I forgot I bought a new co-op farming-dungeon crawler game I thought you would like. Let's check it out!"

Without warning, he had popped up from the beanbag and headed straight towards his console to set up the controllers.

You gasp sharply as you finally reach the exact post Leviathan had hidden from you last night. Visibly uncomfortable with discussing how you ended up on the top page of Dreaddit, you didn't push him for more details. His diversion occupied you for some time as you kicked slime monster ass and planted dewdrop berries, but the curiosity lingered in the back of your mind throughout the school day.

After dinner and watching an episode of "One Day I Woke Up Reborn as An Oven: One Piping Hot Pie of Existentialism Coming Up!" with Leviathan, you'd returned to your room and set up a basic Dreaddit account. He wasn't kidding, the ads were no joke. Every two to three posts you clicked on led to an ad-break or brand deal, sometimes featuring even Asmodeus or Mammon as a model.

"Ok yea, maybe I'll look into getting premium."

You chuckle to yourself as an ad for DevilGlam Lip Balm in the shade RedRose pops up for the third time and wonder if Asmodeus got to take samples home from the shoot. Because if so-

"I'm definitely gonna ask to borrow it." It was pretty cute.

Exiting out of the ad, you save the picture of you and Satan. Despite the fact that it definitely wasn't meant to be seen by you, the intimacy layered within the shot warmed your heart. Focused on the heading, you had missed the adoring smile curled on his lips as you fumbled through past and present conjugation.

However, you don't miss that this was posted under the "d/Sa10Stans" tag. A peek at the authors username, SatansS0ulmate, is warning enough that you are entering dangerous territory. But the temptation is too great.

You scroll through the comments.

HellsKitchenette: There the human goes again, running through the boys each week like a common whore. I've caught them just begging for attention, it’s pathetic.

RADRum: UGH, I have them in seductive speechcraft, and they're just so annoying!! If you can manage a pact with nearly all of the fucking student council, you can figure classwork out for yourself, slut.

You click on the thread you see forming with over 300 replies and at least 150 upvotes.

DearDeerLights: Wait, what do you mean nearly all the student council?!?!?!

HellsKitchenette: Oh, you poor thing. You didn't know? They've managed to trap our boys, all seven of them.

GroundGossamberry: ACK! You guys scared me, I thought they had gotten to Barbatos or something! But seriously, how pathetic can they be... like having to be coddled in public? Not me, I'd rather drop dead <3

Solomonssock: I see I'm outnumbered, but isn't this a good thing? The whole point of the program is that the human is supposed to study with us. And the lords are their host-family. I don't see anyone in the comments giving Solomon such harsh treatment.

RADRum: At least Solomon carries his weight around. Like come on, after a fucking year of being here if you can't go out by yourself then don't come out at all is all I'm saying.

GroundGossamberry: Yeah...I wouldn't fuck with Solomon; I've seen him in potions. He's brewing liquid death.

HellsKitchenette: Solomon's strength and wit makes him increasingly more bearable, and I admit, dashing. This one...well, there's simply nothing special about them. Anyone who witnessed Lord Leviathan's TSL Quiz last year can attest to the fact that they were all coerced into these contracts. Honestly, the human should be ashamed.

You stop there, your throat constricting in response to your rising panic.

"...oh fuck." Hearing the wobble in your own voice, you swallow thickly and sit up from your bed. Exiting out of Dreaddit, you hurriedly delete the app and set your DDD face down on your bed, tripping over your fallen sheets as you scurry out of your room. You need water, or anything really, to stop you before you start spiraling.

You make the short trip to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass with shaky hands.

It doesn't take a genius to infer that you wouldn't be the most popular person in all the Devildom, but the pure vitriol of the subdreaddit had been a higher dose than you anticipated. Truthfully, the focus on you was the least of your worries.

You shotgun the glass, the cool liquid gliding down your throat and easing the tension that had started to build.

You admit you and the brothers still hadn't fully sorted through the emotional muck that releasing Belphegor had unleashed. You felt assured that your pact with Lucifer was mutual, but Leviathan, Mammon, and the others took precedence in your mind. Did they really feel that way?

Trapped?

The pit in your stomach, persistent and pernicious, prevents you from returning to your room to wallow in your worries. Instead, you pass through the now empty dining hall and open the door to the music room.

The grandiosity of the room isn't lost on you. The gold detailing, polished to perfection, reflects your shaken image. You take up so little of the room, and yet you are suffocated by it.

Shuffling over to the piano, you drag your hands softly over the keys, each muffled note bouncing around the room in short bursts. For a minute or two, you loom over the instrument, dragging out each note, trying to sort a melody from the emotional medley consuming you.

For the outcomes that had transpired the year prior, you were certain you had no regrets. The hatchets had long been buried - at least that's what you led yourself to believe, wrapped up in the arms, and roped into the plans, of your lords once more. The sacrifices and secrets of the past were all to mend a family in danger of falling apart. And yet...

You crash your fist onto the keys, rolling your knuckles into a harsh trill.

The nagging guilt you had thought to have laid to rest creeps up again, coiling tightly around your heart. Its weight drags you forward until your forehead presses against the dark wood. It cools your skin, flushed from the few tears you'd allowed to fall.

You had been reckless. Dived into matters that long existed before you ever did, took the mantle of master of the seven lords, and yes, deceived them to do so. The many times they have attempted to wrong you in the past is not lost on you. But, in the end they are demons, and you are no devil.

You strain to lift your head from the wood and turn to face the mirror beside you. You scoff at your own pitiful appearance. Surely, Dreaddit would have a field day if they could pick you apart now, crying over the grief of your own guilt. Without your lords, you know, you are weak. What good is unbridled power without belief in oneself? You stand proud in a world you were not born to wander because of their faith in you, your dear seven pillars. The thought that you have wronged them wounds you deeply. If they ever came to ha-

Abruptly, you slap your cheeks against your cheeks and stand up from the piano bench. It would be unfair, in the face of your regrets to be so bold as to assume their feelings. Regardless of the past, they have taken you in with open arms, adopting you as part of their family. You are here now, with room and board because of their desire for your return and continued stay.

After a deep breath, you pad over to the large windows stretched across the back of the room. You take in the foliage that surrounds the manor, and chuckle to yourself when your gaze happens upon Cerberus taking Belphegor for a walk. You are so happy, that he is here and whole, that their family is here and whole. You are so happy, yet feel so terribly guilty that you sob deeply into your hands.

You startle as the door to the music room is thrust open.

"Darling, are you in h-", Asmodeus stands in the doorway. Even with his hair in slight disarray, he is gorgeous. The panic in his voice, in his eyes, tapers off as he takes you in. In its stead, bleeds in worry.

"Oh, dear." Softly, he shuts the door behind himself.

Desperately, you wipe at your eyes. It's no use, the puffiness and ragged breath would quickly reveal your miserable state to any being. But you try, and try, and try.

He emerges before you, but still, you hide your face in your hands. Asmodeus's own hands reach for your arms first, but only his fingertips graze you as they test how you respond to his touch. You freeze, but don't step back. The thought of rejecting his touch, even when you feel so unworthy, is agonizing.

"I had wondered where you'd wandered off to." His hands move downward, fingers coming to dance across the expanse of your waist.

Knowing you cannot hide forever; you sniffle and rub at your eyes one last time. You're not ready to meet his eyes, so you don't. You occupy yourself with his hair, hands coming up to push back the soft strands that had fallen out of their usual place. You two stand like that for a moment: the moon casting an ethereal glow on his champagne hair as your fingers coil into its thickness to ground yourself.

The moment cannot last forever.

Fingertips press against your jaw, gently guiding you to face him. You want to run and hide, not bare to him this weakness. Not in the music room, and especially not on a Friday night. Or was it Saturday morning by now? You haven't a clue how much time has passed. Yet, you stay, drowning in pools of light orange that plead for your attention.

"I called, several times might I add, but you didn't answer!" With the dramatic flourish you've come to adore, he sighs and blows away the fringe that has fallen into his face from your ministrations. You try to bow your head, avoid his disappointed gaze, but he holds you firmly in place. His face inches closer, you two nose to nose as he whispers against your lips, "I was soooo worried."

The faint whiff of demonus on his breath lets you know Asmodeus had gone drinking after dinner tonight.

"I went to your room as soon as I got home, but you weren't there." You reach up and press your hand against the one he leaves curled around your jaw.

"Mo," Your heart clenches as tears begin prickling at his eyes. An uneasy and desperate expression you haven't seen since that time overcomes him.

"You left your door open", his cheek presses into your other palm as it moves to cup his cheek, "your sheets were on the floor and your DDD was just there on the bed. Levi said he hadn't seen you since after dinner-" His own sniffle interrupts him, and although you feel you haven't the right, you unfurl his hand from your jaw to press a grinning kiss into his palm.

Your Asmodeus, such an emotional drunk.

"I'm ok."  you whisper against his skin. The pout he forms cues you in on the fact that he heavily doubts that statement. His free hand trails up from your waist to trace the tear stains covering your cheeks. You can feel yourself tremble and will yourself to remain strong for the both of you right now.

You are not the only one laid bare tonight.

"Please, don't leave us,” his head lolls forward to rest on your shoulder with ease. You sigh, threading your fingers through his hair in soothing motions.

"MC," he whines into the junction of your neck and shoulder, "I can't lose you again."

"Mo," you gather him into your arms as much as you can, hushing him tenderly as another whine escapes him, "Asmodeus, I'm here."

His arms wrap tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he mumbles, "MC, promise...no. Pinky promise me you won't go! That you'll stay here forever with me." He rocks against you, swaying you both side-to-side.

Forever?

"A-are you sure-," he attempts to pull back from you, a noise of protest escaping him at your lack of immediate reassurance, but he quiets as your hold on him tightens, "are you really sure that's fine? Could you bear me forever, despite everything?"

You realize as his hands smooth themselves up and down your sides, that you were already shaking.

You know these worries have no place here. This should be a conversation when emotion has not fully overcome the both of you. But nothing is perfect, and nothing is planned when it comes to him or any of his brothers.

 "...bear you? You think you're a burden upon me?" Asmodeus's wounded tone affects you more than you care to admit. It strips you of the willpower to stop him as he pulls back from you a second time.

You try to stutter out a response, but you can't deny it. Asmodeus cocks a hip, expecting a response, but you look away from him. How selfish you are, you think, to have once again made the matter about you. That train of thought doesn't last for long, however. You quickly whip your head back up to face him as an unmistakable oppressive force creeps over the music room and caresses your spine. All at once, discord strikes as random notes are ripped from each instrument. 

"Sweetheart~" 

Asmodeus is smiling, but dread washes over you as his glamour begins to shimmer and shift.

"Come on, don't ignore me! Who put such a silly thought in your pretty little head?"

His true form pulsates beneath, ready to burst in response to his building annoyance. Glimpses of his wings, wound tight as they flicker back and forth reveals his worry. This display isn't to intimidate you and now would be a good time to say something to appease the demon. But it's embarrassing to admit to the fifth born that complete and utter strangers, demons whose opinions shouldn't matter when you have his attention, have turned your thoughts to the worst.

"Hmm, should I go have a chat with Levi?"

"N-no! It has nothing to do with him."

"No?" Asmodeus's form seems to settle as you finally respond. Only brief flickers occur as he moves past you, sitting on one of the chairs placed in front of the window.

"Then, why is my precious little human in tears?" 

You take in a deep breath. He will not let this go, and you are too tired to form a believable excuse.

"I'm just overthinking, Mo. Really, I'm going to be ok."

"Ah," Asmodeus's eyes crinkle softly as he catches the weakness in your statement, "but you aren't ok now." He motions for you to join him on his lap, but instead you take the seat beside him, leaving the table as a barrier between you two.

He hums to himself, and before you can register it, he sits himself on your lap and threads his fingers through your hair. Replicating, you realize after a long stretch of silence, the pattern you had used on him just minutes before.

"Don't hide your lovely face from me," he whispers against your ear, fingers curling around your jaw again, encouraging you to face him. When your eyes meet, his soften.

"What is it?"

"I.." You begin, but he stops you, clicking his tongue as your gaze starts to trail away from him.

"Mm-mm," when your eyes are firmly focused on him and him alone, he lets out a light purr that rumbles against your shoulder, "there we go, eyes on me."

"Mo, are you really ok with things as they are?"

"Well," he grins at you, shimmying in your lap, "this view is fine for now. But later I'd rather admire you from my bed."

You scoff at his attempt to lighten the mood when he knows you are being serious, but feel your cheeks flush, nonetheless.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean, darling?" You gulp as his pupils begin to constrict into sharp slits.

"You aren't implying that I'm unsatisfied with you or our current standing, right?" To any untrained ear, his playful lilt suggests a question. However, Asmodeus's tightening grip on you solidifies it as an accusation.

"No, no," he lets out a sickeningly sweet coo, "certainly you understand that your place is beside, over, or under me."

As you sit stunned by the possessiveness that floods his tone, he presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"And you will go nowhere else."

"I-I-" Of all the brothers, Asmodeus had teased you the most with being something more than whatever this situationship was. But how does anyone respond to such a forward declaration - from the Avatar of Lust, no less?

"Oh, sweetheart," Asmodeus adjusts his grip to delicately cup your face with two hands, cooing at you as you tremble more under his touch, "my favorite human is never a burden. Hmm, if you keep having such ugly thoughts, I can't be held responsible for what I'll have to do to distract you. I'll fill your head aaalll with me and me alone, ok?"

"Asmodeus, I'm serious."

His eyes flash, and your heart flutters as a low growl reverberates from deep within his chest, "As am I."

Deciding to change tactics, you wind your arms around his waist.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mo. I don't want to be anywhere else." You rub his back gently in an attempt to reassure him and assuage his fears. You wait until his pupils dilate some before you continue.

"I'm happy here with you, with all of you. I just want to make sure you're happy too."

"Aww, of course I'm happy!" Asmodeus wraps his arms across your shoulders and rests his head atop yours, "I have our sweet MC all to myself tonight."

You sigh heavily, feeling the way he shivers slightly at the drag of your palm over his spine. He's backing you into a corner.

"I feel like you deserve better than me." His breath hitches, but he says nothing.

"I was...thinking of the past. I thought I had no regrets coming here, studying here, becoming Solomon's apprentice, making pacts with you all..."  You halt, feeling Asmodeus's nails dig into the fabric covering your shoulder.

"Yet, you regret them. Your pacts with us?" He hisses.

"Never!" You're shocked with the strength of your denial. With the way he jolts, you guess the finality in your tone surprises Asmodeus too. His head lifts from yours, gaze locking onto your own.

"I don't regret our pact, just the way it came to be." You expect disappointment, anger, even annoyance. But all there is, is Asmodeus's amused expression in response to the confession you'd fretted over the past who-knows-how-long.

"How so?" His knowing little smirk irks you just a tad.

"What do you mean, "how so?"!? I deceived you, all of you, to free Belphegor."

Asmodeus's shoulders begin to shake with laughter. Flabbergasted, you try to find words, but all evade you.

"Deceived the deceivers! Our little human, so powerful and persuasive." Asmodeus mocks, swooning in your lap.

As he finally quiets down, he swipes a manicured thumb over your bottom lip.

“Mm, was I not clear enough then? No one, not even Solomon, has ever made me feel as powerful as you do." His thumb presses down, parting your lips.

"I can't speak for my adorable brothers, but you wanted a pact, and I desired your power. We both got what we wanted and," a hand returns to pet your hair, "maybe even more than we bargained for?"

You snort in disbelief. Your demons, always keeping you on your toes.

"Yeah, something like that."

Asmodeus giggles, pressing a kiss onto your cheek this time.

"No need to get so worked up. Should I go to Lucifer to arrange a family meeting? If you're that concerned, we can take turns," his fingers glide down from your hair to cup the back of your neck as he whispers, "reciting the vows of our arrangement."

"T-that's not necessary, Mo! I get it!"  You squirm in his hold and pout. Always such a tease!

"You're SO cute when you're all pouty. But I've suffered enough tonight by your hand, don't you think?" He hauls himself off your lap and takes a moment to stretch in a manner that is all too slow and all too intentional.

You melt at the mirth swimming in his eyes and wonder why you were ever worried to begin with. Forever, was it? Forever has a nice ring to it.

"Oh, forgive me, dearest. However, can I make it up to you?" Theatrics, your shared love language.

"Well," he begins, giddy when you get up to follow him out of the music room, "a nice long bath together should be enough to soothe my aching heart."

"Not too long," you chide, "your breath reeks of demonus. You need to rest."

"Reeks?!" He squeals and you laugh.

"Aww, I get it. You're worried about me! Oh, I always knew we'd be a perfect match." Asmodeus links his arm with your own and tugs you towards the stairs. You resign yourself to your fate, you don't want to sleep alone tonight anyway.

"Mo." You tsk.

"Fine, fine. We both need our beauty sleep, but I'm keeping you to myself aaalll day tomorrow." You take the time to make sure he doesn't stumble over any of the steps.

"And what will we do then?" The scent of roses floods your senses as you both enter his room. It seizes you whole, fills your lungs, and leaves you entranced. It smells like Asmodeus's signature perfume.

It smells like home.

Asmodeus reaches into his dresser and pulls out a matching set of pajamas. "I believe movies and massages are in order." To your surprise, he also pulls out a matching set in your size.

 "Romantic comedies?"  You can't stop the grin that splits across your lips.

Some time ago, as Mammon and Leviathan argued over whether to watch action movies or a live action rendition of TSL, Asmodeus had curled himself into your arms. Hidden beneath the covers of your bed and in between a stolen kiss or two, he'd confided that drama had once been his favorite genre. But in your absence, romantic comedies had occupied his time. The loveable leads reminded him of you both and the endless joy your unique and unexpected relationship brought him.

"You know me so well~" Asmodeus purrs.

"That does sound nice." You walk over, taking the pajamas from him to set them side-by-side onto his bed.

"Of course it does," Asmodeus tugs your arm and you move to join him in his bathroom, "I always know what you like!"

You move his hands away as he tries to undress you. He pouts but acquiesces, turning away from you to undress himself and slip into the bath.

When you finish undressing, you turn to find him with his head tilted back on the tile and at peace. You admire him for a moment, thankful that such a stunning creature had opened his fragile heart to you.

He doesn't move until you sit beside him, bubbly water sloshing side-to-side.

"So, you'll stay?" His head finds purchase on your shoulder, fingers tangled with yours beneath the water. You lay your head atop his own, pressing a kiss to his locks.

"For as long as you'll have me."

"So," he kisses your shoulder in return, "forever?"

"Forever is fine."

A soft trill escapes him. "I'll be sure to take good care of you."

You sink deeper into the bubbles with a hum.

 "I love you." He murmurs into your skin. 

The warmth sinks into your bones and pulls you deeper into relaxation. You could fall asleep here.

"Hey!" You yelp at the little nip he gives your shoulder. “Tell me you love me too."

You laugh, picking up his head to push your foreheads together. The adoration in his eyes makes your belly all warm and fuzzy. You feel safe here. This is where you want to belong.

"Love you too, Mo."

[kingdaddydaichi]

the LONG overdue 11th chapter of "redefining" is almost done 👉🏼👈🏼 it should be ready to post tomorrow night at the latest...

[just-jordie-things]

ugh everyone who's ever commented or left tags on my fics i just wanna give you all a kiss on the forehead and a hello kitty sticker so line up babies <3

[ifyougoillfollow]

a song for a song

|Gen. | Mic & Midnight | 1650 words | Fantasy AU|

"Can you sing, senpai?"

Hizashi winces. He hadn't meant to cut Kayama off, even if he hasn't been entirely listening to a word she's said for the past hour or so.

Kayama straightens from her crouch, hands him yet another fistful of dirt-clodded roots to stuff into his increasingly soiled satchel. At this point, he's going to have to wash it. And his robes. And his hair, too, while he's at it. He should have braided it; it's getting kind of long. Now there's probably bugs in it.

Hizashi refuses to cry about it. Plenty of other things to cry about nowadays, and he's yet to cry about any of those, so bugs? Not gonna do it. Not today.

Kayama eyes him a little like she was eyeing those roots on the forest floor a second ago, but in the end she only snorts and says, "You're the bard here, not me."

"And you're the witch, yet here I am with dirty, smelly herbs in my robes."

"No one asked you to come, snotbrain."

Hizashi takes a moment to remind himself that he is not crying today, then says, "Well, fortunately for you, senpai, Aizawa has gotten much better at evading me with his stealthy ninja skills, so looks like you're stuck with my lovely, charmingly clingy self for the foreseeable future."

"Lucky me, indeed," Kayama mutters, even as she's foisting more assorted foliage onto Hizashi's wary arms. She waits until he deems each twig adequately bug-free before setting off again into whatever new direction through the trees her witchy senses are leading her towards.

"Yeah, I can sing," she answers at length, "I guess. Probably not as well as you can, though, if we're being honest. Not exactly my specialty, is it?"

There was a time, not two moons ago, when Hizashi would have preened at his senpai's first-ever admission that she likes his singing. Now, it just serves as a reminder of all the songs he's had caught in his throat since Oboro died.

Kayama is not looking at him, too busy charming her way through previously virgin forest brush in order to allow them easier passage. Hizashi feels her scrutiny regardless. The air is clear and sweet and open. Inviting. Hushed like a sated dinner crowd awaiting the first song of the evening. The absence where Hizashi's song would be if he weren't choking on it rings louder than his voice ever could.

Kayama slows, her shoulders rising gently in what could be a breath or a sigh. Hizashi nearly hightails it out of the forest right then and there – bugs and blushing virgin underbrush be damned – but when Kayama speaks it's only to tell him to keep an eye out for a flower that 'kind of looks like two monkeys fornicating,' and then she's off again about herbs and roots and spices and their many medicinal and decidedly non-medicinal applications.

She has a lovely voice, even when just speaking. Full and rich and with a little too much heat, like smoke from a spitting hearth fire. Hizashi's always wondered what it'd sound like in song, can't stop wondering even as she goes on and on about dirt and leaves and bark, until she finally stops to contemplate a vine unfurling from what might very well be the heavens for all the attention Hizashi's paying to it.

"Sing for me," he says, unable to choke the words down.

Kayama snorts, keeps contemplating her vine. "What, right now?"

Because that wasn't a 'no' and because she's not looking at him and because the clear forest air remains bereft of song, Hizashi asks, "Why not?"

"I don't know many songs, for one."

"Choose whatever. Anything at all."

"What if I choose a terrible song?" she asks, affecting a pout.

"No such thing, senpai!"

She rolls her eyes and bats the vine at him, but it's only a few beats before she caves. "Honestly, I only know lullabies," she says. "You know – for fussy little babies."

Hizashi laughs. "Lullabies are good! Sing me a lullaby, senpai!"

Kayama's answering grin is more teeth than anything, and it's also the first sign that Hizashi has walked into a trap. "All right," she says, voice too-innocent, "if you insist. Follow me." She flashes another snaketooth grin at him and disappears behind a curtain of vines.

At the sight of the lone finger she sticks back through to beckon him forward, Hizashi once again considers taking his chances on a solo sprint back out of the woods. In the end, his curiosity wins out over his meager self-preservation instincts. He follows.

The two-step trek through the vines is harrowing, but what he finds on the other side might be even more so. It's a perfectly picturesque clearing. Suspiciously picturesque. The clearing is warm and bright and cozy, with lush cloud-cover trees surrounding a bed of down-soft grass and wildflowers. There's even a brook babbling quietly to itself off to the side. A far cry from the barely tamed woods two steps behind him.

Kayama, perched on the grass below a swaying willow, laughs at whatever expression is on Hizashi's face. "Welcome to my den of decadence," she all but purrs, "where I bring all my... conquests."

Hizashi tries not to balk. Tries.

Kayama cackles. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. You wanted me to sing you a lullaby, so I'm going to sing you a lullaby. Properly." She pats a spot on the ground right next to her. "Come here."

Hizashi, forever hapless in the face of his senpai's schemes, does as he's told. Once he's seated, Kayama roots around in her bag for some incense to light ("For the bugs," she informs him with a roll of her eyes) and a stoppered vial filled with an unidentified lavender-colored liquid.

"For you," she says expectantly.

Hizashi downs the contents of the vial without question. It tastes like too-sweet perfume, but he's had worse tonics from Chiyo-sensei, so he doesn't complain.

"It's a new sleep potion I'm working on," Kayama explains, even though he hadn't asked. "I've been meaning to test it, but I haven't had any willing volunteers due to what happened last time – which wasn't even my fault, if anyone's asking – and Chiyo-sensei says slipping potions into other people's food is unethical because she's no fun, so here we are."

For his own peace of mind, Hizashi elects not to ask what happened last time. "How long will it take to work," he asks instead, "and how long will I stay asleep?"

"No idea, that's why we're testing it. Now lay back, unless you want to crack your skull if it takes effect suddenly."

Hizashi eyes the grassy ground warily. "How effective is this fancy incense of yours at keeping bugs away again?"

"Oh, come here, you big baby." She tugs at him until he's laying down with his head pillowed on her lap. Hizashi does his level best to not perish on the spot. She flicks him on the forehead. "Relax, already. I won't bite unless you ask me to."

"Not helping," Hizashi grumbles, willfully ignoring his fever-hot face.

Kayama's thigh is warm under his cheek, and she smells like twigs and earth and wildflowers, and Hizashi is not crushing on his senpai – he is not – but suddenly he understands all too clearly why Oboro had once badgered him for weeks to serenade Kayama on his behalf, until Hizashi had agreed on the condition that Oboro write the lyrics himself (and make that fact clear to all present witnesses), which he did, happily, and the lyrics had been terrible and mortifying and damned near impossible to put to melody, but Hizashi had put his bardly reputation on the line and done it, and Kayama had, of course, laughed like he's never heard her laugh before or since, but had also been so obviously charmed by it that Oboro didn't stop smiling for the rest of the week. If all of Hizashi's songs hadn't died with Oboro, he'd be singing that one right now.

"Sing for me, senpai," he says, because his eyes are starting to burn and because she promised and because this moment calls for song. Every moment calls for song.

"You're the bard here," says Kayama, fingers tugging knots from his hair, "not me."

"Please..."

"A song for a song, then."

"Sleepy..." he mumbles, and it's an excuse, but it's also the truth, his limbs heavy as sun-warmed sand.

"When you wake up."

He shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"Can't," he whispers, too tired to scream.

"Sure you can. You're a bard."

Is that what he is? Kayama-senpai sure seems to think so. She keeps saying it. Why does she have to keep saying it?

"I'm not singing until you say it."

No. That's not fair. She promised.

"Yamada." She smacks his sleep-numb cheek until he looks up at her blearily. "You're a bard. Aren't you?"

"I'm a bard," says Hizashi, because if there's one thing he's good at, it's telling people what they need to hear.

"Good boy," says his senpai, and she's not smiling any kind of smile, but she does finally – finally – start to sing.

Her voice is as lovely and Hizashi knew it would be, and the song – well, the song is lovely, too, in the way that all songs are lovely, even though this particular song is about a busy baby bee winding down for bedtime. Hizashi lets the lyrics wash over and through him, but the melody – the melody he soaks up along with Kayama's voice, lets it seep into the very core of him, into the sun-spooled place nestled deep behind his rib-cage from where his songs and his soul and his spells flow and flourish, and he knows without a doubt that he will never be without song again, because if nothing else, he'll always have this one simple melody, soft and whole and true.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

besties just out of curiosity, what's like... your favorite fic you've ever written? or favorite art you've ever created?

[dbblovesklance]

who else got dragged, kicking and screaming, back into the voltron fandom!? would love to know who prayed to the gods for this renaissance within my heart!!

I have things i need to write, i cannot afford getting distracted by Klance, a wonderful pairing that rips and tears into my soul!!

AND THERE'S MORE KLANCE ART NOW?? (please don't stop! continue to make more art as your heart wants - i love seeing it!!!!) What even happened to restart this part of the fandom? Oh, AND JULANCE IS STARTING??? Love coming back to this fandom so fully furnished, like coming home after a long day and cuddling up to all the wonderful artwork and fics!

Let's restart this fandom y'all~!! Unless it's already restarted technically, thennn let join back plsss :)

[kuwdora]

I’d love to hear about any of the Leshkel fics!

Okay I am gonna try not to foam too much at the mouth with all my excitement. You and I Becoming is my Ciri and Leshen Eskel story that will also feature a lot of Eskel and Triss friendship and begin exploring Ciri’s and Eskel’s magic. This story is about learning to leave behind the person you once were and living with the uncertainty of who you're becoming. It’s about Ciri not understanding her powers and having someone who isn’t her father figure that she can speak candidly about Geralt, witchers, and a witcher’s worldview. It’s also Eskel having still experiencing a lot of memory loss/cognitive dissonance about who and what he is and also start showing us how Eskel can perceive magic now. I started this draft literally 12 months ago and a few thousand words scattered around and it’s currently in the wrong tense but I’m gonna be fixing this up shortly ‘cause god. I need Eskel to live through all of season 2’s events. I am OBSESSED with Leshen Eskel. OBSESSED. And not just in a let's fuck Geralt with tentacles way (though I am also obsessed with that, alright!!!) but I just... I love trees so much. 😍 One of the main plot points will be Triss arriving to help Ciri learn about her magic, and also help Eskel figure out how to ground himself to his memories. And probably speak to a little of Triss’ own struggles with surviving Sodden. In my short Leshkel fic Driftwood, I implied that runic magic engraved on his body is what is helping him stay tethered to his sense of self. And that’s something that I would be unpacking in this story with him, Triss, and Ciri. This fic will most likely span the first half of season 2, probably through the time Rience shows up at Kaer Morhen. I am in love with Guardian Leshen Eskel arriving to fuck Rience up before he can attack Triss and Vesemir and steal the magic blood. Tree witcher+fire mage=bad times. But it’ll be really intense and interesting. In my first Leshkel story Heart Tap, it’s heavily implied that Eskel is not a very reliable narrator and that he’s “seeing” other characters from different Witcher canons and Eskel is experiencing a slip of other canon/fanon Eskel’s memories. This experience kind of grows more potent when he’s near Ciri. This is basically riffing of Ciri as Lady of Space and Time and Eskel having a connection with Ciri and whatever’s in the mutagens/monolith dust that are part of Eskel’s DNA. Ciri’s connection to the monoliths means she’s connected to Eskel. All that handwavey goodness. So here’s a brief, messy snippet. Eskel and Ciri go on midnight walks together through Kaer Morhen. --

Eskel peers at Ciri with his single eye, and now it’s his turn for uncertainty. There’s an oddness surrounding her body, an indecipherable scent and a kind of negative pressure that he used to associate with a mage opening a portal.

“You roam the keep at night. More than I do,” Ciri says and Eskel nods and settles against the wall. The night is too cold for him and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to it.

“Do you have nightmares when you sleep?” she asks.

Eskel takes a minute to think about his answer. He doesn’t quite sleep anymor. His awareness never really goes away when he’s idle during the night.

“I have memories. Which I suppose can be the same thing,” he says.

Ciri nods. The medallion embedded in in the bark of his chest doesn’t react to Ciri’s presence. As long as Eskel doesn’t look directly at her, he can sense more oddness about her body. She doesn’t have a glow or aura. It’s still that negative pressure. Maybe a scent of—not soil, not the copper in somebody’s blood—but something else. Something that lingers in the air.

“Geralt said this was a safe place for me, for us. Everything I’ve seen is… not what I expected,” Ciri says quietly.

WIP Game List

[after-witch]

okay so, I heard about your upcoming work with The Smiling Man meeting Ollie’s daughter and about how it had to do with a circus. I’ve been really thinking about this, but is The Smiling Man a ringmaster of some sorts? I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel like it would be an appropriate role for him.

I was hoping to have the first 2 chapters done by now but, life got in the way and also I am literally stuck on "I CAN'T PICK OUT HER NAME"

He does seem like a ringmaster, doesn't he? ;)

[lesaltywarlock]

A Regular Day For Griffin Fogarty

A story about how Griffin Fogarty met a Demon. 

I was working on Griffin’s profile when I thought about this fic I made a while ago, detailing the story of how he met his Servant. I want to make similar stories for the rest of the Masters as well, but...well, I’ll get to that eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What a beautiful day, ain’t it? The sun’s shining, the birds are chirping, and the car exhaust is as rotten as it was the day before.

“What a beautiful day.” Griffin Fogarty repeated his inner monologue, only questioning his sanity for a few seconds before sitting up. Reaching his arms up above his head to stretch, he promptly banged his knuckles on the metal roof of the van he called home. He recoiled and rubbed his mildly sore hands. “Jesus, I really need to stop doing that.”

Seriously, there were indents from how often he’s done that. 

To start off the day, he did his morning routine as anyone would. He neatly folded his thin blanket and placed it on the upper right corner of his mattress before throwing open the van’s back doors and slipping on some gym shoes. Griffin hopped out onto the blacktop of the gas station parking lot to go buy some breakfast. 

The familiar jingle of digital bells greeted him when he entered, along with the bored expression of the clerk at the door. An old Italian woman, with a voice ragged and scratchy from years of smoking, but she was kind and gave him free reign of the drink machines. 

“Hey, Griffin.” They said, just like always, with a heavy accent. “Just the usual?”

“Yes, please! Oh, actually I just got paid yesterday, so I might be able to splurge a bit more this time.” He placed down a crumpled up ten dollar bill with a cocky grin. “I’ll actually pay for my coffee this time. 

The woman’s name tag reflected the morning sun into his eyes, displaying her name. Janice. She smiled at him, perhaps the first expression of interest she’s made today. “Really, now? Why don’t you use it for something better.”

He denied it at first, but she kept insisting, so he eventually relented. Griffin roamed the three short aisles of snacks and occasional premade meals before choosing out some trail mix, a salad, and a Gatorade for when he gets thirsty. There weren’t many options he could choose when it came to meals, as most of them contained meat, but he’s grown to like what little he had. He also got his usual coffee order, adding as much cream and sugar as humanly possible in the tall paper cup filled with slightly burnt vanilla flavored coffee. 

Janice scanned his things and handed him his precious change before they bid their farewells. Today was a weekday, and he only got gas on Sundays. He hopped into the ripped up, sun bleached driver’s seat of his van and sped off into the city he’s memorized like the back of his hand. 

The gym was his first stop, as always, where he greeted the man at the front desk who only worked Mondays before heading off to his usual round of machinery. He had no need for exercising this frequently every morning, but it was a nice way to get him energized and ready to take on the world. 

Also, gyms had showers, and since he didn’t exactly have a home, a corresponding gym membership would allow him to use said shower all he wanted. Which he did, for maybe a good thirty minutes afterwards. 

Today was an off day for him. The past few days have been off days for him, mostly because he couldn’t find work after being let go from his old job, and it was rare for anyone to come to him of all people for appliance maintenance or locksmithing no matter how much he advertised it online. The only exception was yesterday, when he miraculously snagged a job helping someone locked outside of their home. 

After changing into much cleaner and less sweaty clothes in his van, he then drove to the local library. Having a library card was also a much needed expense since they had free wifi, computers, and, of course, books! Grabbing his old backpack that was practically ripping apart from years of use, he headed inside and plopped onto his usual spot at one of the many wooden long tables inside. 

Griffin was still a student after all, taking a few online classes over the summer partly for fun and to finish off some electives he missed before. School was difficult, but having a full ride made things a bit easier, or at least it motivated him enough to keep trying for at least a B+. Without it, he’d probably have gone into debt which he sure as hell didn’t need when he didn’t even have a home.

His stomach’s incessant growling signaled the end of today’s work session. As he left the library and navigated through the parking lot, he mentally tallied up the money he had saved up along with the number of places to eat at. In the end, he decided on his favorite taco truck that was always close to where some of his friends lived. It was hard being on the streets as a vegetarian, but the owners of the truck were kind enough to start making vegetarian options for him. 

He was about to start the engine when he noticed a slip of paper peeking out from the lower left corner of his windshield. Griffin stared at it for a few seconds before fear ran through his spine. He let out a defeated sigh and got out to retrieve the ticket. 

“Come on, New York, what the hell did I do wrong this time?” He groaned and pushed the door open with his foot. “Seriously, you see a guy living in a van and think he’s a criminal or something….”

When he grabbed the ticket, he was surprised to see that it very much wasn’t a ticket. In fact, it was a parchment adorned with a golden eagle wax sealing. After peeling it off, he opened it up and read a fancily written letter. 

To the head of the Fogarty family, 

Fortune smiles upon you today, oh fallen blacksmith. You, whose family has all but perished, have been given a chance at redemption. The Holy Grail of legend, an all powerful wish-granter, has been planted in New York City. You and six other Mages shall conduct a ritual known as a Holy Grail War, in which you summon a familiar, a phantom of the past, at your side and defeat your fellow Mages so as to win ownership of the Grail. Only one Master and Servant will win this. If you search the back of your van, you will find the materials needed to start the process, however, a catalyst to help assist with summoning your Servant is not provided. Perhaps you already own one, as the heir to a family of talented armorers. 

Good luck, 

- Quentin Rambert

“What the fuck?” Griffin exclaimed aloud, turning the heads of a family entering the library and causing the parents to glare at him. His face heated up, and he yelled out, “sorry!”

Obviously, they didn’t care about his apology, and the kid didn’t care at all about what he said either.

He turned his attention back to the parchment in his hands, which weighed as much as the world itself. A chance to wish for anything he desired, and all he had to do was kill six other people and their familiars. 

Griffin wasn’t unfamiliar with the idea of killing someone, though he never did. He was still a Mage, and his pride as a Mage still burned within him no matter how long it’s been since he lost everything so many years ago. Nonetheless, he was still inexperienced, and he lived in a van of all things. If anyone found out, he’d be better off as death fodder. 

But…there was still a chance for him to win, right? All he needed was his familiar to fight with him and a catalyst to help summon them. 

He crawled into the back of the van through the driver’s seat and found a duffel bag containing another large parchment containing a summoning circle, the directions and incantations to summon the Servant, and an address. 

After looking it up on his phone, he discovered it was an old abandoned store in a practically barren part of town. It looked shady, but then again, most Mages were. 

Griffin weighed the odds, but he began to imagine seeing his family’s faces again. His mother’s kind smile and his father’s tough gaze that always encouraged him to succeed. He shut his eyes and pictured that scene countless times before coming to an answer. 

“Alright, Quentin. I’ll accept this offer of yours.” 

The only problem, of course, was a catalyst. Some item meant to help summon this Servant of his own. Considering he was homeless and also very poor, there wasn’t much that he had much less could use as a catalyst. 

But then a thought popped into existence in his mind. He hoisted the mattress off the floor of the van revealing a garbage bag filled with mementos of his past protected by bubble wrap. After rummaging through family pictures, documents, and some personal keepsakes from his parents, he found it. The first sword he ever made that earned his family’s approval, and it was the start of his journey as a Fogarty before it all came to a screeching halt. He sold a lot of his tools that came after that for money, but he could never quite let go of this one. The blade itself wasn’t perfect, with the edges slightly jagged and starting to rust from years of being hidden away. Even the pommel was barely attached to the hilt, and the leather sheath it was in had started to rot away.

But it was his, and maybe it could give him some badass Servant to boot. 

He drove to the address on the paper, only getting lost once trying to take a shortcut along the way. Eventually, he arrived at the empty square and headed inside past the cracked nonfunctioning automatic doors. 

Either a storm passed through it or a fight broke out, because the whole place was wrecked and filled with debris. A long gash wrapped around the entire store, with overturned shelves and carts all slashed in half in a manner that looked way too clean to be anything natural. Obviously, none of this was natural, but….

“You’ve accepted our invitation, then?”

The shadows spoke in a shrill, cocky voice. Emerging from the darkness came a young man several inches shorter than him. He was dressed in a black suit lined with gold, and the insignia of an eagle was branded on his shoulder. The man strutted his way over to Griffin, staring straight at him with green eyes shimmering with some sort of electricity. Smoothing his dirty blond hair back, he remarked, “call me Quentin. I’m the heir to—”

“The Rambert family. Famous and rich modern day aristocrats who’ve served New York for years. I-I read your stupid invitation or whatever.” Griffin waved the parchment around in his hands, only to realize that he just yelled at the heir of a rich and powerful family who could probably sick the fucking mafia or something on him. “Uh…I mean, yeah, I’ll be in your Grail War.”

“I’m a bit honored you know me.” Quentin stood up straight and bared his chest out in pride. “Then again, everyone knows me.”

“Why are you here?”

“To observe the birth of a new Master, of course.” They replied. “It’s not everyday that one gets to be in a Holy Grail War.”

Griffin wasn’t exactly buddy-buddy with any Mages, much less the famed Rambert family. He was immediately suspicious, and all of his brain’s alarms flared up with every passing second, but it’s not like he had a choice. If he rejected, there’s no telling what they might do to him. Though if he accepted, there was also a chance that Quentin might kill him on the spot. 

His only choice was to do the ritual.

He glared at the man but tried his best to continue as usual. He laid out the parchment of the summoning circle and placed his old sword in the center. Quentin raised a brow at it and said, “you’re trying to summon a Saber, then? Going for a strong Servant from the bat, aren’t you?”

“If it helps me win, then I’ll do whatever.” Griffin stepped back a few paces and held up the paper with the incantation. With a catalyst, it made the whole process much easier, so all he had to do now was start the ritual. 

“Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let fire and brimstone pay tribute. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate!”

The moment he started the incantation, energy poured out from his body in the form of flames that burned the parchment away, leaving the now glowing shape of the summoning circle. Quentin’s face was illuminated in the light, giving his cold expression an eerie glow. 

He continued. 

“Let it be declared now. Your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth.”

His sword trembled, absorbing the summoning circle’s energy before shooting out a pillar of pure light up into the ceiling. A gust of wind shoved him back, but he managed to keep himself from falling over. As he spoke, a deep voice repeated his words moments after they left his tongue. 

“From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!”

The light promptly disappeared in the blink of an eye. The energy surging through the summoning circle faded away like embers crumbling off firewood. It was just him and Quentin once more. 

“Did…it work?” He asked above the ensuing silence. 

Quentin said nothing but pointed at his right hand. When he looked down, he found a lion’s head branded on his skin like a tattoo. Its jaws were open in a ferocious roar, with eyes that pierced right through his being. It burned, but no matter how much he rubbed at it, they didn’t smudge. 

“Those are your Command Seals.” Quentin explained. “They are proof of your title as Master. They’re powerful spells that allow you to order your Servant to do anything, regardless of power or will, but remember that you only have three. Use them wisely.”

Suddenly, they started to ache even more after hearing that information. Did they really just freely give him the spells to give his familiar absolute orders? Griffin looked around the store, not finding a single person, and a part of him wondered if the ritual actually worked. HIs Servant was nowhere to be seen. 

“I…uh, don’t know what to do now.” He murmured in a feeble attempt to fill the silence. 

“What we do now is kill each other.” 

Griffin choked on his spit. He stumbled backwards, tripping on an empty cart and falling on his ass. Quentin approached him at a snail’s pace, but it didn’t ease the fear creeping into his throat. “Wh-what?”

“With you, our final Master, the Holy Grail War has officially begun.” Lightning crackled between his fingertips which he clasped together, smiling with bloodlust. “The objective is to kill six of the seven Servants, but considering they’re much more powerful than regular humans, it’d be easier to target the Masters. Starting…with you.” 

Oh fuck. Oh shit. He was about to die. Griffin Fogarty was about to die. He tried to move, but found himself paralyzed by the growing static electricity in the air. His nose hairs burned with the scent of ozone as clouds gathered above them. Quentin snapped his fingers, sending a bolt of lightning to strike the ground in front of him. 

At first, he thought the man just had bad aim, but the sound of footsteps growing closer behind him told Griffin that it was done on purpose. It was a signal. 

He turned his head to come face to face with a spear flying straight at his chest, held by a warrior in silver armor. His brief, miserable life flashed before him, and it only made his impending doom feel even more disappointing. After trying so hard to turn his life around after losing everything, this was where it all ended. 

“Pick yourself up, Griffin Fogarty!” That same deep, echoing voice spoke both in his mind and in reality. Milliseconds later, a sword, his sword, deflected the warrior’s blow. The wielder was a samurai, or at least someone dressed in the thick plated samurai armor that he’s only ever seen in movies. Despite his sword being a standard European style longsword, they wielded it similarly to a kendo player and used it to parry the silver-clad warrior’s strikes with their spear. 

The samurai stared at him with blood red eyes, almost like a demon. His words shook Griffin to his core, like they were commands etched into his very being. “Your life shall not end here. Be brave, Master.” 

All of the fear and horror that froze him in place melted away. He pushed himself to his feet and looked over to Quentin’s direction. The man furrowed his brow in anger, yet he didn’t seem surprised by anything that happened. “Lancer! Distract that Servant, I’ll take care of him.” 

Electricity gathered in Quentin’s hands as he prepared a spell, but the samurai was much faster than that. He kicked the other Servant, Lancer, in the gut and sent them flying all the way across the store. Then, they were gone in the blink of an eye and reappeared right in front of Quentin, striking them in the nose with the butt of his sword. 

Their spell fizzled out as they stumbled back clutching their bloodied nose. Quentin glared at them as Lancer ran to his side with his spear pointed at Griffin. “Alright, you pissed off the wrong guy. Servant or not, you’re still outnumbered.”

The air shimmered as dozens of men with assault rifles appeared from the shadows aiming their laser sights at him. His Servant took up a defensive position, holding up an arm in front of him as some sort of shield. They then huffed and said, “I assure you that you are the one who is outnumbered.” 

Plumes of smoke swallowed up the men as the sounds of fighting ensued. Seconds later, when the dust settled, figures cloaked in dark blue clothing that blended in with the darkness stood over the now unconscious gunmen. For the sake of his sanity, Griffin ignored the blood staining their katana. 

Lancer took one step towards them before Quentin ordered them to halt. A smile formed on the man’s face, almost seeming satisfied as he applauded Griffin saying, “I must admit, you’ve outsmarted me. What may be a setback to my parents is a job well done for you. You’re one step closer to winning the Grail.”

“Is the Grail a trap as well?” He asked, “is all of this one big elaborate scheme?”

“I assure you that the winner will receive their prize in the end.” They answered, grabbing onto Lancer’s forearm. “I can’t assure you that I’ll help you, though. Maybe the other Masters will be willing to cooperate. Outside of us, there are five others that you will have a chance to meet tomorrow.”

Griffin tensed at the sound of meeting the other participants in this war. He couldn’t help but imagine Mages equally as powerful as Quentin, paired with deadly Servants that could take down a hundred men without so much as lifting a finger. His own Servant’s eyes burrowed into him as they said, “be calm. I will protect you with my life.” 

He gathered his courage and forced out his fears through a heavy sigh. “What do you mean by that?”

A few seconds passed before they replied, “a banquet will be held at the Rambert estate outside of the city. This will be your chance to assess the competition and for us to celebrate this momentous occasion. Please, try to wear something fancy. There’ll be a strict dress code.”

“B-but I live in a van, you think I have the money for a suit and tie?”

Quentin shrugged, “not exactly my problem, now is it? I don’t have the time to help you anyways. Being a Rambert’s pretty busy work. Come on, then, Lancer.”

With the loud crackle of thunder and lightning, the pair vanished. As his adrenaline faded, so too did his energy. He fell to his knees clutching at his chest trying to catch his breath. His Servant then pulled him to his feet and gripped him by the shoulders. “Are you alright, Master?”

“Y-yeah, thank you…for everything, and all that.” Griffin managed a smile. “So, you’re my Servant, huh?”

The samurai nodded before sheathing Griffin’s sword and hanging it at his waist, right next to the far sleeker curved katana. They bowed deeply as they said, “you may call me Saber. I shall be your blade from now on, Master.”

“Uh…just call me Griffin.” He laughed nervously. “Master’s…a bit weird of a name.”

“Lord Griffin, then.”

He had a feeling that was the closest Saber would get. Griffin motioned for them to leave the store, and as they did, he couldn’t help but eye the shadows wondering if those men from earlier were still in hiding. “Uh…Saber, where’d all your guys run off to?”

“They are my Noble Phantasm.” He explained. “I can summon them on command to fight and spy for the both of us.”

“Um, mind if I ask what that is?”

Saber nodded. “We Servants are Heroic Spirits, phantoms of figures of the past and fiction. We are given special abilities known as Noble Phantasms that represent the legends that we are known for. Some may wield holy swords, like the legendary King Arthur and Excalibur, while a samurai such as myself is given command over three hundred men. In turn, you are also given that same privilege.” 

Griffin’s mind wandered off to a certain BBC show of King Arthur, and how the king definitely sparked an interest in him. He threw that thought away as he slid out of the store and into the parking lot. The sun had set, bringing with it the blanket of night. He didn’t like being in parking lots at night outside of the gas station he’s basically called home for years. It was so dark, and sometimes eerie as well. However, Saber had such a strong presence that he felt the need to be strong as well. 

“Do you have a name, Saber?” He asked. “Your…real name. I don’t remember any samurai named Saber in history.” 

“It is just a cover name. There are seven classes of Servants in a Holy Grail War, and Saber is one of them.” They answered once more, and Griffin suddenly felt bad for asking so many questions to a man who only just came into being a few minutes ago. “My True Name…the name I was given in life…is Hanzo.”

“Hanzo…that’s a much better name than Saber.” Griffin laughed, throwing open the door to his van and sliding into the driver’s seat while allowing the Servant to rest in the back. “I’m guessing these True Names are supposed to be kept secret?” 

Saber nodded. 

“Huh…must be weird, you know, to never be called by your name. I wonder if you Servants ever forget who you were back in the day.”

No response. 

Griffin was beginning to see how most of their conversations would turn out. He hid his disappointment and drove out of the square, suddenly doubting his actions and the future. Perhaps most importantly, he began to doubt whether or not his wallet could handle having another mouth to feed. He could survive for today, sure, but what about the coming days? What about the literal suit and fucking tie he’d have to buy for tomorrow?

He decided to go and ask his friends tomorrow for help. They were all rich anyways, or at least they had homes unlike him, which Griffin considered wealthy enough. Too tired to do anything else, he pulled into the gas station, headed inside to fetch another pre-packed salad and a chocolate chip cookie as dessert, before flopping onto the mattress in the back of the van. 

Saber observed him as he wolfed down his food with reckless abandon. Griffin felt a bit awkward since he’s never exactly had guests in his van, but he did his best to ignore it. 

“Are you sure it’s safe to be out here, Lord Griffin?” Saber questioned, eyes roaming the nearly empty parking lot with a hint of unease. “We cannot be stuck out in the open like this, when there might be enemies at every corner.”

“It’s the safest I can manage.” He answered, “considering I don’t have a place to go other than this ol’ thing.”

Griffin proceeded to bang on the van’s walls, causing Saber to freeze and then slowly nod. “I see…so you have no home?”

“I’ve been living on the streets for a couple years now, ever since my parents died and their house burned down.” Griffin cleaned up his hands with some hand sanitizer before stuffing his trash in a plastic bag to throw away in the morning. “All they left me were this van and the tools they made, before I had to sell those for money. That sword I used to summon you is the only thing I couldn’t sell.” 

“It is a fine sword.” The Servant unsheathed the blade and held it up against the light pouring out from the gas station. “Whoever made this holds great potential as a craftsman.”

His chest burned with pride hearing those words, and he smiled, sitting up a little bit straighter. “Thanks. It’s the first sword I made that earned my parent’s approval. I could probably make a better one now, but…a blacksmith can’t exactly do his job without the tools, and buying those tools takes money that I obviously don’t have.”

It was the worst thing about his situation. If he just had the tools, he might just be able to start earning a living for himself. But in order to do any of that, he needed money, but he also needed money for food and paying for his phone or gas and all the fucking things homeless people still deal with despite not having a home. 

“A blacksmith?” Saber questioned, “there’s far more to you than meets the eye, Lord Griffin.” 

“Heh…yeah. My whole family line made their legacy as blacksmiths.” Griffin hung his head and conjured up memories of his childhood. The roar of a furnace and the constant hammering of metal always sounded so comforting to him. For a long time, he could never fall asleep without hearing the sounds of fire crackling in the background. “We made a lot of things…and I sold them all, just to get enough money to survive.”

In hindsight, it was a bit dumb, but he was a dumb teenager who didn’t know how to survive on his own. 

They sat in silence. Griffin shifted around before eventually laying down on his bed and wrapping himself as best as possible in his blanket. It was getting late, and if he wanted to wake up early to get that suit, then he’d best sleep now. Maybe it’ll give him a bit more time to dream as well. 

“Rest well, Lord Griffin.” Saber said. “My men and I will keep you safe, both you and your dreams.” 

He heard the Servant exit the van and shut the door. Normally, Griffin was still paranoid sleeping out in the open like this, even with the door’s locked, but today felt different. Then again, not everyone had some badass samurai and his retinue of three hundred ninja to protect them. 

As his eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, Griffin fell asleep, and he fell into the warm embrace of his dreams where his mother and father still lived, and a place where he wished he could live as well.

[slippinninque]

I just realized that I haven't posted any work (up until my first fic on here) for...like...4 maybe 5 years? Maybe longer, honestly.

Either way, being here has been good for me. I'm writing and reading, things I loved to do that I thought would never feel good again.

Here I am. Doing what feels good.

Thank you to all who take the time to read and interact, I feel like a well watered flower 💕

[introspectivememories]

unrequited tddk is about the emotional infidelity. and i know what you're thinking, "oh from shouto's end right? cause he's can't ever get over izuku and it bleeds into every single romantic relationship he has?" no!!! from izuku's end. izuku who is very much not in love with shouto but can't seem to stop the weird Closeness that they have. izuku sitting in shouto's lap even though he has a boyfriend. izuku staying up all night with shouto bc shoucchan just gets it guys!! we understand each other. izuku getting sick and the one thing he asks for is shouto much to the chagrin of his boyfriend. izuku who remains willfully oblivious to the situation because if he acknowledges it then he'll have to let shouto go and that is the one thing he cannot do. izuku who wasn't loved by his peers growing up and now that he has someone who Gets him like nobody else, he's not letting go.