#sorry this is short

[messylustt]

unfair, controlling, hypocritical — miguel o’hara. drabble based on this writing prompt request.

your breath caught the moment you saw his back stop. all your words, you wish you could swallow. the silence was almost strangling before his low voice decided to break it. “you wanna repeat that?”

you manage to simultaneously shake your head and nod. why were you nodding? you didn’t want to repeat what you had said. you had been angry. you are angry. maybe that’s why. miguel has slowly turned, his visible fangs and blood red eyes seeming more prominent as his shoulders flex.

his question still lingers in the air. he hadn’t seen you shake/nod your head. that was probably for the better. “is silence all i’m getting now?” miguel asks, voice still weighed heavy with tension.

you gulp. “do you want me to repeat it?” you quietly manage, because now he was nearing, your feet sliding back. and just as you feel gravity pull you down with a slip to your foot—the edge now scraping your sole — miguel’s hand grips around the middle of your suit. he’s holding you up by some material, his claws probably ruining the stitching.

“do you really think that i want to hear you repeat how i’m some fucking unfair, controlling, hypocritical bastard?” he sneers out the words. his face inches closer to yours as you hold your breath. “i’d love to hear those words come out your mouth again, cariño.”

at one point you thought you could feel the graze of his fang against your lower lip. but to be fair you’re fraction dazed by his proximity. blame it on that. delusions, because miguel would never—

his free hand harshly tilts your head up, your lips now most definitely brushing against his canines. “so you think i’m unfair?” miguel practically speaks to your mouth. his hand that is gripping your suit material is still making you lean slightly over the ledge, your hands now gripping his biceps, as your heart picks a quicker beat.

his hand on your chin slips down your waist. then your body jolts, his fingers having found a placement between your legs. “is this position unfair?” he inquires far too innocently. all your words are choked. “if i let go you’d fall. you’re reliant on me to keep you up…does that make me controlling?”

the pads of his fingers lightly graze back and forth over your covered pussy, making your breathing catch. “is me…touching you like this unfair?”

and through the slight shake of your body you manage a few words. “hypocrite. you forgot hypocrite.” your words are some what of a form of you trying to get your own back. to stand taller, despite the clear lean of your body.

miguel actually manages a chuckle. though it’s dipped in mocking and utter power. “of course. a hypocrite. because despite all of what i’m saying, and what i’m trying to prove…” he pauses, gaze flickering across your features, and then down to your slightly parted lips. “i want to hear you say how much you want me to touch you like this…”

your gaze slightly widens, as you meet his red, now determined eyes. “what?”

“so you were right. i am a fucking unfair, controlling, hypocritical bastard.” miguel’s breath is now fanning over your mouth, as he tugs you closer. “and i’ll show you just how much that title suits me.”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[missdaytonawrites]

MEN & MDNI!!! 18+ content!!! dark!abs n' full fledged dub-con below the cut!!!

and as i sit here... getting all ready for bed... just cleaned my room and changed the sheeeets! also just took a shower and shaved my legsss!! i can't help but think about my very special dark!abby coming home late from work finding a very squeaky clean and pretty-smelling r! in bed and then sneaking in next to you and rubbing one out while her free hand grazes your soft skin.

AHGABSJAHBSSKJ and of course it wouldn't be dark!abs if she didnt take some of her spend and and swipe it across your lips, even in your unconsious state your lips part and you happily accept her fingers (mary, ik i would i am so orally fixated its CRIMINAL!) she would so casually roll over to spoon you while you keep her fingers in your mouth.

she absolutely cannot fall asleep until shes fucked you.. so the removal of her fingers from your mouth causes you to wake, and she just so mercilessly takes you right there. surely past the hour of 2:00 AM by now, you're not there enough to really process whats happening. just happy to see your abby, you wrap around her and let her handle her business.... i am so fucking siiiiick

you'll most likely knock out again, quite literally being fucked back to sleep while she snarls and rocks above you. before you know it, her weight drops down beside you and her arm has snaked around your waist. you barely register it,,, but she leaves you with a "good night cherry.. ✨💖😽👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩😌" and crashes herself.

just a short somethin' i'm sittin' here thinking about while i wait for my sleeping meds to kick in lol, nightie night.

[magma-frog0]

Paperwork- Dad!Leon x Reader

Fluff!

You were making dinner when Leon got home, your four year old daughter was coloring at the table as kids her age do. He went up to change and shower before dinner as you finished up. But when you look back at the table to get your daughter ready for dinner she wasn’t at the table.

Panic flashed through you for a moment and you went to look for her. You looked around and saw Leon’s study was open, more panic went through your body as you walked into his study. You saw her sitting at her daddy’s desk drawing and scribbling on his government documents.

“Mama look! I did daddy’s work.” She shows you the paper with a her big toothy smile.

Apart of you thought it was adorable but another part of you knew those papers were extremely important to Leon. You quickly picked up your daughter and took the paper, it was covered in hearts, stars, and smiley faces. She even wrote her name on it. It melted your heart but you had to at least try and fix this. “Oh honey no, these papers are extremely important to daddy-“ You speak but hear Leon’s voice behind you.

“What’s extremely important to me?” He asks and you turn around of course with your daughter on your hip and the paper in hand. He takes the paper and sees the drawings and writing on it, he cracks a smile and looks at his baby. “Oh would you look at that, you did daddy’s work. How sweet!” He picks up your daughter and spins her around like a princess.

“Wait you’re not mad?” You ask almost confused, you knew those papers were important to his job. So why was he being so laid back about the situation?

“Honey, you really think I only have one copy? I have at least three copies of this paper and one document on my computer. It’s fine.” He smiles and kisses his daughter on the cheek. “Daddy’ll get it framed and it’ll be on his desk forever, how ‘bout that?” He asks and gives your daughter a kiss on the nose.

She giggles and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “I wrote my name on it see!” She said excitedly and pointed to her name, she had just learned how to write it and she wanted him to see.

“Well of course I do! Look at that!” He says with an happy expression and puts the paper on his desk. “How ‘bout you go help mama set up the table while I find a safe place for this?” He asks and your daughter nods her head.

“Okay daddy!” She saids and tugs your hand. “Come on mama I want to help you too!” She says with a smile and you laugh softly.

“Okay baby let’s go.” You say and bring her to the dining room as you and her set the table together.

[elsfairy]

꒰⠀LOOK AT YOU, TAKING EVERYTHING⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀SEVIKA. 🏒 ꒱

can't stop thinking about how hockey!sevika would have her hand over your mouth, concealing all the moans that are for her ears only when she’s got you pressed up against her locker, legs wrapped tightly around her waist, arms loose around her neck and her strap buried in your cunt. Her free hand having an iron grip on your hip, guiding you up & down her strap, those mesmerizing grey eyes watching over every inch of your face, the way it contorts in pleasure, the way the sweat slides down your forehead, and how your own eyes lock with hers, panting heavily against the palm of her hand and she’s got that smirk across her lips. She knew the risks of someone walking into the locker room were high, but she loved the thrill of almost being caught with you pinned against the cold metal bouncing on her strap, blabbering and muttering random sentences & words that somehow she understood, to an extent. The pretty sounds that she was able to bring from you, drove her insane, and her pace always became more brutal & harder because she wanted to always pull them from you. Or how her movements falter when you wrap your hand around her throat, nails digging into her skin just enough to rip groans, and growls from her. She’s a fucking sadist. “Good girl, fuck..you’re such a good girl”

You were a drug. Her drug and she needed you all the time, even if it was just to hold her. No matter what she was doing, she needed you right there beside her. There was something about the way you clung onto her body that had her melting in the palm of your hand. How you so effortlessly whimpered her name in the middle of the cold night, she had lost a game and she wasn’t all there but still took such care of you that all she could remember was how you sounded, how fucked out you looked beneath her. You only had to look at her, and she was on her knees doing whatever you needed her to.

Oh right, she daydreams about you even when she’s fucking you.

Seeing you lost in your own pleasure was always something she loved watching. If she knew you were going to be able to contain the sounds you made, even if she hated not hearing you, then she would slowly remove her hand from your mouth, without any intention to slow down her pace. You had to control yourself, not her. If you couldn’t, it’s not her problem. If you were loud, chances are you’re going to be the reason you get caught, clothes discarded somewhere within the locker room, makeup ruined, face so blushed, and the scene of you making a mess all over her strap is going to be burned into their brains, and she drank it all up. She was indeed, sadistic as fuck.

“It’s too much i can’t..”

“Yes you can, Sweetheart. Look at you, taking everything. Taking everything i fuckin give you. Such a good girl.”

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 5

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Suggestive, implied eye-fucking? lol

A Mutual Rescue

Kid's scowl deepened before evolving into a smirk. "Yeah, I'll fuck you." He lunged for the meat again and you jerked it away.

You were taken aback for only a fraction of a second until it was replaced with cackling so hard it brought tears to your eyes. "That's- That's not-" You couldn't even get the words out. A minute or two passed and you took a calming breath. "What I was going to say, Eustass, was: If you give me a lift off this island when, if, your ship shows up, I'll give a hand to your ship's doctor up to the point you drop me on the next island. And, of course, keep you and your friend alive since your crew probably would like you alive." Your shoulders shook as you kept trying to stifle your giggles. That was the literal furthest thing from your mind. You were focused on getting off alright. Getting off this fucking island.

The redhead considered your proposal. Or, rather, his stomach considered it for him. It cramped with hunger, growling loud enough for you to hear it from across the fire. Did he really have a choice at this point? Actually, the more he thought about it... It was sort of a win-win-win for him. He, and Killer, would survive long enough to be rescued. There would be someone who had medical talent on the ship, since, what you didn't know, was that they didn't have a doctor. As for the third win, it wasn't lost on Kid that although you may be covered in dirt and grime, with unwashed, unkempt hair, that you were hot. You were obviously cunning, tough, and there was a distinct ferocity behind your gaze that reminded him of himself. Not to mention that your little dress, though loose and boxy, gave glimpses here and there of a body he wouldn't be opposed to seeing the rest of. 

"So?" You prompted. "By the way, me and Mini are a package deal so she's coming too." 

"Who the fuck is Mini?"

"She's behind me." You pointed your thumb back in the direction you threw the drumstick. You half turned, expecting her to give some indication that she was there. "She's mad at me," you apologized for her lack of politeness.

Kid would have shared a glance with Killer if he was conscious. Okay... she's hot and .... has an imaginary friend, Kid thought. Usually he let Killer make these types of decisions, but he thought Killer would think you were ho- helpful too. "Deal." Kid gave his signature shit-eating grin, "Consider yourself our newest rookie."

Narrowing your good eye at him, "This is temporary." Shoving the remaining food at Kid, you walked past him to check on Killer. The wound on his head had no signs of infection, however he felt clammy and slightly warm, causing your eyebrows to knit together. 

"You'll be begging me to stay. Just wait." Kid said with his mouth full as you tended to Killer.

If you could roll your eye any harder, you would. "Or you'll be begging me not to leave." 

Kid inspected his dinner to make sure he hadn't missed any meat on the bones before tossing it aside. "Then I guess we'll see, won't we...what's your name anyway?"

You hoped Kid hadn't noticed you pause momentarily while you checked on Killer. There was luckily a good opportunity to stall as you pressed your ear to Killer's chest, systematically listening in different areas. You held your hand up to indicate you needed silence while you did this. Obviously, you weren't going to give him your real name. You had a bounty and you didn't know if your posters were still around or if anyone on the crew had seen them when they had been. You avoided the question. "Did you notice he was hot?" The instant the words left your mouth you knew you should have rephrased. It worked in your favor, however, since the accidental bait distracted him from the fact you didn't give him an answer.

"Aw you hear that, Killer? Girlie thinks you're handsome." Kid's mood seemed greatly improved with a good meal in his belly. More likely, it was because he had realized how very entertaining you were going to be. You had successfully piqued his interest. He liked a woman with a mouth on them, in more ways than one. Regrettably, since he had a lovely view of you bent over his friend, Kid got up and crouched next to you. Though he could, at times, be daft, he knew what you meant. "I guess he felt warm. I don't know." The grin previously on his face was replaced with a concerned look.

You were certain there was fluid in his lungs, probably from being tossed around in the ocean and on his back for too long. "I think he might have pneumonia." A grimace settled on your features and Killer seemed to confirm your suspicion by letting out a weak, phlegmy cough. There was a chance you may be able to make an herbal remedy from some plants you had stored. It couldn't hurt. Hopefully, it would at least prevent it from getting worse until you were picked up. 

A large hand grabbed your shoulder, squeezing in, not a reassuring way, but a menacing one. "I hope you remember that your life is contingent on his." 

I didn't forget. It was unsettling to feel his gaze on you when he was this close. You weren't scared of course. If this didn't work, you could always try your devil fruit powers.

[calxia]

hi, new follower here! absolutely obsessed with your work!

do you have any disability headcanons for any of the ghouls? i'm physically disabled myself (various conditions that cause me chronic pain in my joints, particularly my legs/ankles/hips/etc) so i'd really love to hear if you think any of the ghouls have anything similar! and maybe something about the ghouls helping each other through any of the issues their disabilities may cause?

-🍊 anon

Surprisingly, given how I suffer with chronic pain myself, I've never actually put much thought into physical disability headcanons for the ghouls. Due to this, this response is sadly not as long as I'd like it to be but I'll 100% be thinking about more disabled ghoul hcs in the future (the brainworms have begun worming)

All ghouls experience some sort of physical backlash from being forced into human forms that don't quite agree with their hellish forms. It does vary greatly from mild aches and allergies to cases like Zephyr, who deals with severe chronic pain on a day-to-day basis that restricts how much he can move and what he can do.

Phantom is very hypermobile and suffers from aches and pains fairly regularly, however, they range in severity. Sometimes it's easily ignorable and he's able to continue with his day, but other times he's unable to do anything because the pain is hitting so hard it wipes him out.

The best remedy for achy joints and painful bones is the soothing fizz of quintessence and the heat of a fire ghoul. The ministry's resident Quint and fire ghouls are always prepared to help a ghoul in need and soothe away pain to a more manageable level.

The first time Dew ever really showed much kindness to Phantom was when Aether dragged him into the new ghoul's room and forced him to become a living snugglesafe for the younger. It's hard to hold rage towards someone you see and help at their most vulnerable.

[mainenorth]

Can I interest you in a dratchet au where Drift is a lil punk and dared to go spraypaint some abandoned hospital but he finds a nurse(ratchet) who has been there for centuries and gets yoinked but also falls in love with sad ghost nurse ratchet who wears this

I can get behind ANY dratchet au. I WANNA SEE DEADLOCK’S OUTFIT THOUGHH

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Between Two Lungs/Heaven is Here Pt 2

SYNOPSIS: Y/N tries to process the idea of eternity and reincarnation. Aziraphale begins to identify his feelings for both Crowley and Y/N. Crowley is pining and moody

WORD COUNT: 7k

TAGS: Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley, Aziraphale x Reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, fluff, soulmates, pining, kind of confession, so much fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, pov third person, fluff and angst

A/N: i didn’t mean for this to be as long as it is, and I mean the story itself. But there will be a part 3. This focuses more on Aziraphale, next more on Crowley. Sorry this isn’t as long as the last but felt like it was wrapped up

She felt like she was vibrating as a human, small little shakes destroying her entire sense of balance. Nina had made her take her break, though it was far too early in her shift, and she sat in the back with her legs shaking so violently the table rattled. She'd broken her mug that was sitting on top of it. Y/N was absentminded the entire shift, messing up orders and stuttering with each customer she talked to. Eventually Nina pulled her aside during a lull.

"What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, eyes wide as she seemed to realize that this wasn't a 'here's the sugar, don't forget the napkins' spiel - the kind of spiel every new person got during the first month of their job, that was both helpful and insulting - but a 'you're fucking up spiel' - which was significantly less enjoyable and filled the receiver with such shame and embarrassment they considered the different cliffs nearby. During a particularly intense thought she considered the cliffs of Broadchurch, before remembering that was from a television show.

"Don't be daft. You've been a good barista these past few weeks, then that couple comes in and you're dancing like a bee."

"A bee?"

"They dance to communicate," Nina said plainly, as though it was an obvious comparison. Nina was sometimes so in her own head, tracking her own thought process, that she couldn't comprehend why it wasn't someone else's immediate thought as well. It was something her shrink told her to work on.

"Oh, sorry. I, they just rattled me." Y/N tried to ignore the image in her head of Nina moonwalking while firing her or someone salsaing on their way to tell someone their son has tried tragically. It was terribly funny and she was not in a terribly funny sort of mood. Demons and angels did that to a person.

Nina stared at her for a moment, "you a homophobe?"

"Oh! Oh my god, no. Never, that's not what I mean. No, no, no," she was rambling, not knowing what to say and now terrified her boss thought she was a homophone. She tried to consider how to explain to Nina that she wasn't homophobic, she'd just been pulled aside by a literal angel and demon who told her that her soul has been trapped on earth for more than 2,000 years eternally connected to them with their miscommunication and angst, which means that when the world does indeed end in fire she will definitely be there and might not have a place to go after the fact aside from miserable eternity. So she settled on saying something close enough to the truth that Nina wouldn't think she's a piece of shit that should be fired. "They, they made these comments about fate. Eternity and whatever. It wasn't bad, they weren't bad, I just got spooked. Not really religious, didn't know what to think of it."

Nina blinked rapidly and paused, letting Y/N's words sink in. "You're like this cause you're having a crisis of fate?"

"I- I, well yeah. It sounds silly. Just got to me."

"We get missionaries in here all the time, the Mormons won't leave me alone. You gonna be like this every time someone mentions God?"

"No! This is a one time thing, I promise. I'm not usually like this. I think it was the de - redhead, he drank like a lot of espresso and he was talking very intense-like." Whenever she got anxious her language devolved into likes and ums, stutters and little comments that only made sense to herself. She sometimes wished she could press an off button to stop the random shit that just decided to spew from her.

Nina looked at her with a sort of blanket skepticism she carried into each conversation. One of the things Maggie both loved and struggled with. Eventually she nodded, "right, okay. Life gets tough, people throw us off. I get it. I'm gonna send you home today, you're a mess even if it is a one time thing. Next time this happens, you tell me so we can fix it." Y/N's shoulders slumped at being sent home, feeling like she failed Nina. Nina, being surprisingly observant, went to reassure her, "shop closes in an hour anyways. Only one person comes in regularly and it's my partner, I'll be fine."

Y/N nodded, untying her apron and hanging it up. Nina gave her a smile as she left, trying awkwardly to comfort her. She really did appreciate the attempts, even if Nina's somewhat harsh demeanor failed to always communicate that.

Y/N loitered outside the shop for a minute, staring at the antique shop of 'Mr. Fell' who she'd come to realize just a few short hours ago belonged to the actual angel Aziraphale. She should go talk to them. They'd told her to. Aziraphale had insisted that she come over after her shift to discuss this situation more, maybe she could start to recover some of her past memories. She'd gotten a few initially, remembering the ring and Crowley's eyes. Crowley had suggested he just make Nina forget she was working and to let her go freely. While tempted by the demon's offer, she'd only had this job for two weeks and wasn't about to risk it all. Though it clearly wasn't the worst of her problems.

She began to cross the street to the building. It was tall and cute, tucked on a street corner and just old enough to be charming. Windows with drawn blinds teased at stacks and stacks of books, but even without approaching the door she knew it'd have a closed sign. Nina had told her when she first started at the coffee shop that the bookshop was never open, the owner liked having space for his personal library rather than actually selling any of his precious books.

Parked in front of the shop was a black Bentley. It was a vintage style though Y/N knew nothing about the year aside from it was older than 1980, and even then it was a hazarded guess. It was sleek, kept in prime condition. Inside one of the windows there was a film with two bullet holes printed on it, something that made Y/N smile. Her grandfather had one of them as well, said he'd bought it because of James Bond. In the back seat she spotted a cardboard box labeled 'troublemaker' with a plant sticking out of it. It's leaves were wilting. Somehow, without even being told, Y/N knew the Bentley was Crowley's.

She lingered in front of the doors. She wanted to knock, she had to knock, but it was bloody scary to face your entire past, present, and future in one go. But, with bravery unmatched since the laudanum accident in the '30s - the 1830s, that is - she knocked.

Behind the door she heard two voices talking, the deeper grumbling and getting closer as he walked to the door. Then it swung open with a gusto, revealing the shape of Crowley.

She swallowed. He was imposing, tall and thin as he peered down a just slightly crooked nose. His hair was beautifully curled back on his head, though the slightest hairs fell onto his forehead. Though his spectacles covered his eyes, she let out a breath knowing those eyes were still there. His eyes had been a constant in her life.

"We're closed-  oh. It's you." He said, his voice getting hoarse as he stared at her.

"Who is it - oh! Dear, you're here. Come, come in." Aziraphale said from further in the shop, standing with a book in his hands and spectacles on his nose. He looked kind and sweet, back straight and plush, pink lips curved into a smile. Crowley moved aside for her, letting her cross the threshold with anxious steps. He slammed the door shut.

The bookshop was exactly as she expected. Stacks and stacks of slightly dusty book shelves, covered with as many books as possible. There were horrors, romances, histories, science fictions, fantasies and Bibles. A remarkable number of bibles actually. They had a whole row shoved full of copies of the Bible. Y/N didn't feel like analyzing why an Angel would want well over 20 copies of his group's history but who was she to judge? She owned 5 copies of her favorite book, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Perhaps a little boring as it was a classic, but the story had hooked her since she saw the enamoring - although a slightly questionable choice to be a children's movie - Disney adaptation. One look into the music and she was glued to the story. The shop smelled of vanilla and old books, a combination that helped calm her racing heart.

"Hi," she said softly once she realized the unearthly beings were staring at her expectantly.

"Hi," Crowley said back. He hadn't taken his spectacles off, and she didn't like that.

"I, um, I love the shop. It's so warm."

"I can, err, lower the temperature if you require, dearest," Aziraphale said, wanting to help calm her but not knowing how.

"No, I meant the atmosphere is warm. Like a hug. But t-thank you," she said. Then after a pause she added, "Aziraphale."

"Would you like a cup of tea, dear?" Aziraphale said finally after a long moment where the three exchanged glances at one another, unaware of what to do next. The tension was so thick she briefly wondered if she jumped from a ledge if she’d be caught in it’s stupid bloody web. A weird and kind of stupid analogy but it seemed to bring her back to reality. Silly things always did.

She let out a breath, "fuck yeah."

Crowley chuckled at this, sauntering back to where he'd been sitting by Aziraphale's desk. Aziraphale gave a curt nod and went into some back room. She lingered by the door.

"C'mon over here, I don't bite," he said, taking a sip of wine from a glass she hadn't seen sit on the end table. His posture was sprawled on a comfy chair, one leg hanging over the arm of it.

"I'm beginning to doubt that," she said with a little laugh, grateful for his relaxed energy to bring down some of the tension. She walked over and sat on a sofa that was surprisingly comfortable, letting herself sink into the cushions.

"Only if you ask, darling," Crowley said with a wink. He immediately regretted the wink but tried not to let it show. He was never an intentionally flirty individual so when he did say flirty things, often by accident, he cringed at himself.

But she just flushed at his words and got comfortable on the sofa. She wasn't upset, in fact she shot back with a, "only in your wildest dreams, love." The term love sent his human heart racing and he quickly looked away. Only Aziraphale had made him feel this way and he hadn't even begun to process those emotions, let alone do it a second time for her.

Aziraphale returned with two steaming mugs of tea and a bottle of wine which he promptly handed over to Crowley. She thanked him and sipped the drink, letting out a happy sigh at the cinnamon thrown in. She loved cinnamon.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, his eyes wide and full of concern. "It can be a lot to take in."

"I'll admit I've kind of been in a state of shock. It doesn't feel real. Not that I don't believe you, I mean you did stop time and I remember your ring. It's, it's kind of frightening, actually? If that doesn't sound childish."

"Earth's full of s'frightening things," Crowley said in a strange sort of reassurance.

"Right, well while I appreciate that sentiment, you two aren't from Earth. So it's another layer of frightening."

"Perhaps we could help ease your worry by answering some questions?"

"Oh, I don't know. I have so many, I don't want to waste your time." She said, running her tongue over her lips quickly. She was struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Darling, you aren't a waste." This kind statement came, surprisingly - or unsurprisingly depending who you asked, as Aziraphale watched with a fondness towards a certain demon Y/N couldn't explain - from Crowley. "We could ask you some as well if you'd like. Even the scales a bit."

She blew out a breath, nodding. Her heart was racing inside her chest. Strangely enough she did trust these two unearthly beings, but she didn't know what to do or say. She'd never imagine herself being in a situation like this before, and she couldn't fathom the words. They slid on her tongue but wouldn't come out. So she meekly said, "you first?"

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Aziraphale smiled when he looked into Crowley's eyes, remembering how he and Y/N had agreed they were the demon's best feature. They made him look so kind, even if it seemed a roundabout sort of way. Crowley, on the other hand, was admiring the way Aziraphale guided what felt like such a new and unknown conversation. The Angel took lead with a breath and a kind smile, "what is your favorite dessert?"

Her mouth dropped slightly as her eyes lit up, she hadn't expected such an innocent question. "I- I don't know. I can be quite picky. Maybe Tiramisu? I quite fancy that."

"How lovely! Such a wonderful choice." Aziraphale clapped eagerly, now craving a nice cold Tiramisu with a warm cup of coffee right beside it. And of course water as a palate cleanser. Oh and perhaps -

"What-," she started, then seemed to lose steam. Y/N straightened, setting her mug down and sitting more firmly. "When did you meet me? First meet me?"

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to start. The Angel began, "we met you in 55BC. You couldn't have been more than 25, maybe a little younger given you were unmarried at the time. Crowley and I went to eat oysters, and you were in a corner crying. Julius Caesar had just announced his invasion on Britannia, and you had a brother and father who were both in the Navy. You worried over their safety. I blessed you eternally, and Crowley cursed you eternally."

"What made you curse me?"

Crowley looked embarrassed, "I wasn't used to the whole cursing thing so it was a surprise for s'both. You tripped over my foot and called me an asshole."

Her eyebrows shot up and she laughed slightly. Then she stilled, searching her brain for as much memory as she could. It was hidden in the back of her head, hazy ideas of what happened with no coherent life story. She mused to herself that all those hyper realistic historical dreams she had must have some founding in her experience. Her experience. There was a Y/N that existed out of this body and this name, and she existed over 2,000 years previously. She was a sister and a daughter, she had fears and worries just like she did now. It was a frightening concept.

Crowley seemed to notice Y/N sink into herself, mind moving so quick with all these ideas. He couldn't well tell her not to overthink it because even trying to think about it was overthinking it, but he knew he had to be careful with it. Ease her into the world with little memories here and there. "You like Shakespeare?"

"Oh, I, yes I do. I love Shakespeare's works. I performed in one of his plays in secondary school."

"Which one?"

"Taming of the Shrew," she laughed. "Horrible meaning nowadays, but I was lucky enough to be Katherine. It was fun yelling and banging things up on stage."

Crowley and Aziraphale chuckled, they would have loved to see that performance. They imagined her standing brave, eyes sharp and shoulders pulled back as she spat venomous words to all of the men who dared to stand in her way. She was a passionate woman - time couldn't steal that - regardless of her acting ability, they wanted to see and feel it all.

"Did I ever see Shakespeare?"

"Funny you mentioned it, dearest, but yes. We met you once at Hamlet's rehearsals. You were quite enamored with the stage," Aziraphale looked wistfully into Y/N's eyes. "I know it seems odd to say given the strange circumstances, but it's one of my favorite memories of you. Before I realized who you were, I always thought fondly of the girl who broke in to see a Shakespeare show. You were so excited to be alive and experience life, that can be quite refreshing for an immortal creature."

Y/N's chest felt tight and she tried to swallow the emotion in her chest. She'd been there, seen it with her own eyes with people she didn't know she'd known and would know. The idea of reincarnation, of a soul going through the motions of life forever, haunted her and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. They were being wonderful with her, patient and kind. They knew that the concept of eternity wasn't easy, a brain couldn't wrap around it just right. It was so much, it was too much. She felt trapped and stupid, so stupid - shouldn't she be able to process this? Characters in film and book seem to understand the confusion around them like it was common sense, they don't panic over each thought related to what it is. Her chest was tight, she closed her eyes and tried to fight back tears she didn't know were there. This was too much, why would some God give all of this to humans?

She suddenly felt a hand along her back, gently rubbing up and down. It was Aziraphale, hands large, warm, and consistent along her spine. She released a shaky breath. "Breathe with me, dearest. Inhale... exhale. Inhale..."

Crowley appeared, sitting on the floor and leaning against the coffee table. He pointed to her hand and asked, "May I?"

She nodded and he lifted it, letting his fingers rub mindless circles into her palms. They were short and sweet, running up to her elbow and down to her finger tips. They made her shudder but in the best way.

Her heart started to calm down, the world stopped spinning beneath her. She focused on Aziraphale's warm hands on her back, Crowley's ginger touches to her arm. They were kind and gentle. It made her feel safe, it made her feel appreciated. In the back of her mind she felt those stupid, mindless thoughts about self loathing and incompetence.

Crowley seemed to sense these feelings. Whether he could read her mind or she was just that transparent she didn't know, but he jumped in. "Y/N, it'snot bad to question the universe. The universe is bloody strange, no one can make sense of it."

She opened her eyes now, blinking away the tears, and looked into his. His glasses were still on and she slowly went to remove them, to reveal the eyes she remembered. These eyes were raw, these eyes didn't lie. They were kind to her. She nodded.

"Dearest, if you are comfortable, would you like to take a rest? I have a bed upstairs if you'd like," Aziraphale said. She turned to look to him. His eyes were glassy and his nose pink, as though he was fighting to hold back tears himself. She liked his face, he had a pretty face. Pink lips with a perfect little Cupid's bow on the top, turned up in an attempt at a smile. She could tell he was struggling, wanting to help her.

So she nodded, stood up on wobbly legs and followed after Aziraphale up a winded staircase to a cozy bedroom. It was small, but covered with antiques and precious books on a desk in the corner. A large bed took up most of the room, made up nearly with beige sheets and many, many fluffy pillows. Aziraphale took his time fussing, folding back the sheets and making sure the pillows were just right. She climbed into the bed and laid her head down, smiling in affirmation.

"Now, dearest, we will be right downstairs. You remember that this situation is frightening, you are not wrong. If you need either of us just call."

She reached out for his hand and kissed his palm, muttering "thank you," against his skin. He nodded, flushed cheeks and ears, and hoped for her to sleep well. She closed her eyes, willing to be swept away in a world without fear.

—————

Aziraphale went down the steps quietly, meeting Crowley back where they were. Crowley had put his spectacles back on, sprawling in the chair. However, Aziraphale knew Crowley well enough to know that it wasn't as casual as it looked. He could tell by the way Crowley adjusted awkwardly that he, too, was trying to hide his emotions. Aziraphale sat down on the couch where Y/N had sat, his hands on his legs awkwardly before he sighed.

Aziraphale poured himself a glass of Crowley's wine, savoring the sharp taste. Crowley's brows shot up and he smirked, "bad day, eh?"

"I still do not understand the concept of sarcasm."

"It's funny, Angel."

"Hardly, if it was funny I would laugh."

Crowley chuckled to himself, sipping the wine. Aziraphale was so unintentionally hilarious sometimes. He glanced outside the window, peeking through the blinds as the sun started to slip behind the buildings. Crowley wondered vaguely how Y/N was feeling, wondered how they could ever make her feel better. There was no good way out of this situation, it'd never happened before and was certainly not going to happen again.

As Crowley thought about Y/N and the world, Aziraphale was caught thinking about the demon. He thought back to how kind he had been to Y/N, how he'd asked for permission to distract her with light touch. His reassuring words she hadn't asked for but he seemed to know she needed to here. The way he understood how terrifying the prospect of life truly was. Aziraphale had had this thought for a while, but it seemed to suddenly strike him that Crowley truly wasn't evil at all. In fact, he was kinder than most angels Aziraphale knew.

Questions. All it has been to cause Crowley to fall was some questions meant out of kindness. And yet questions were what he encouraged, what he did to help Y/N and help Aziraphale. He asked Aziraphale about anything, knowing how the Angel loved to learn and discover. He prompted him to reach farther, do better, not settle for what is known but look for more. Questions paved the way to understanding, which might not always lead to happiness, but it can settle the soul. Crowley had learned a long time ago that knowing is half the battle, but he'd rather stand half a chance than not at all.

"You were very kind to her," Aziraphale eventually said.

"Ngk, she was s'panicking."

"You didn't have to reassure her."

Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat as though he resented that statement, "yous might say that but when you trap someone to eternity, she deserves ki - not bad stuff."

Almost a dangerous slip up. Crowley was typically very aware of the words he spoke and how it could get him in trouble. Though his affiliation with Hell was pretty much done, they still had the power to torture him need be. No use letting the word out that he could ever be 'kind.' Crowley remembered what life was like after the 1830s, and his back seemed to burn with the memory. Scars that never truly heal, but reform, each step more painful than the last. But that was a moment for a different day, different circumstances.

Aziraphale went to speak, then doubted himself. Then he strengthened, reminding himself that things are different. He was going to make a move. "Crowley, I was planning to read my book. Would you - would you like to sit with me while I do?"

Crowley blinked, not understanding Aziraphale's poorly explained request, "I am sssitting Angel."

"Over here." Aziraphale said awkwardly, gesturing to the space around him.

Crowley didn't understand what Aziraphale meant. On the angels lap? Certainly not, neither of them were ready for that level of intimacy. Right beside him? Perhaps, but Aziraphale patted his thigh so perhaps not. The Angel cleared his throat, "I thought, perhaps, you could rest your head on my lap while I read."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. Ah. Despite himself his cheeks flushed pink, but he wanted more than anything to fulfill the angel's request. He'd never dreamed that Aziraphale would prompt anything.

They stared at one another, realizing what this meant. In this moment they were acknowledging an unspoken part of their relationship, that they were certainly more than friends or acquaintances and far from enemies. That they might 'fancy' each other, as the humans say. This was their person, and they were wrapped eternally with one another. Crowley knew another fact, they were wrapped eternally with Y/N. And they couldn't make their relationship with her function if they could not understand themselves either. He also knew that Aziraphale looked very handsome, ankles crossed and book posed in hand as he waited for the demon.

Crowley sauntered over, laying closer to the edge so his legs could dangle off the arm. Then he let his head fall on the angel's lap. Aziraphale had very strong thighs, always had. They were warm through his trousers, and all of him smelled of vanilla and old books. Crowley let himself close his eyes, cherishing the warmth and surprising comfort of the position.

He felt soft fingers start to scratch lightly at his scalp, musing with his hair as gently as possible. Crowley let out a small moan at the feeling, Satan it felt good to have your hair played with. Aziraphale chuckled.

"What're you reading?"

"Henry V."

Crowley swallowed before asking, "Can yous read it to me?"

Aziraphale smiled, "of course, darling." He flipped back to the first scene for Crowley's sake. "The chorus sings 'O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest Heaven of invention' ..."

Though they wouldn’t say the words until much later, until emotions seemed to swirl round them and they couldn’t not address it, this was the best way they could say it.

It crossed a demon’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with an Angel.

It crossed an angel’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with a demon.

—————

She woke up the next morning to the sun blinking through the blinds. She hadn't slept that hard in a long time and she let herself wake up slowly, sleep threatening to take her over again. Y/N sighed, that was nice. Aziraphale's room was organized chaos, and as she woke up she let her eyes adjust to all the little things throughout the room. Trinkets.

A snow-globe that looked like early 1900s, multiple copies of Beowulf in various conditions stacked on his desk, a note from Crowley signed with a large signature taped to the wall, a map of England with a pin sticking out of a town called Tadfield. A whole person's history in one collection.

Y/N was significantly calmer this morning that she was yesterday. She'd woken up for a moment during the night and began to let her mind wander to all the possibilities, before stopping herself and falling asleep. Today, she found herself more used to the idea. It was strange, uncomfortable even, but she wasn't panicking.

She got out of bed, rolling her ankles and stretching her body. Her bobble had fallen out during the night and she grabbed it to pull her hair back and out of her face. Then she carefully went downstairs, smelling the warm scent of baked goods wafting its way to her. When she entered a kitchen that seemed hidden behind rooms full of books, she saw Aziraphale in his vest and trousers paired with an apron covered in sweet little hearts.

"Good morning, my dear!" He said when he saw her. He was making some tea and gestured for her to take a seat at the island table while the kettle finished boiling. "How did you sleep?"

"Really well, actually," she said with a little laugh, her voice hoarse from her first words.

He turned to her, smile so genuine it shocked her, "I'm so glad to hear it. I am making us some cinnamon rolls. I've also decided to slice up some apples to go with it, I thought the freshness of the fruit might be nice first thing in the morning."

"That sounds amazing," she said. "Where is Crowley?"

"He said he had some business to attend to. Shouldn't be out long, I assure you, dearest."

She mulled over in mind what 'business' Crowley had. She knew from some of their explanations in the cafe that they don't necessarily work for Heaven or Hell as they used to, they're more or less independent. That left them to live life as they see fit, so what business could a demon have?

"Thank you, Aziraphale. For everything."

He glanced up, surprised. He came over and grasped her hand lightly, "my dear, this is a strange thing that has happened to you. Crowley and I wish to support you."

"If I can ask... why? You could have not told me, you could have continued without dealing with the consequences. I'd have never known."

"We couldn't do that. You didn't choose this, and we did not mean to do it."

"I don't want to be your responsibility, that's not fair either."

He blushed, "It's, err, it's more than that. We want to be with you. In whatever way you'll take us, myself and Crowley. If I may be forward, we've yearned for you for too long to lose you the first time we realize what we have."

"You've not even known me? I could be horrible."

"You are not horrible, dearest. I could feel it if you were. It's ... odd. Our souls are drawn to you and we want you in our lives, even without knowing the details. Both Crowley and I have longed for the woman with the strange encounters throughout time, and we finally found her. The souls are linked, even without reason, and we'll take you in any way we can."

Her mouth dropped open, forming a little shocked 'o.' That was hot. Is that weird to say that was hot? She'd never had a man - granted he wasn't a man just presenting male - confess wanting her, in any way, like that. It made her toes tingle and her heart warm, and she stared deeply into Aziraphale's blue eyes to be certain this was no joke. She knew he was an Angel but she put that aside and looked at him. He said they were drawn to her, and without saying the word implied they'd loved her for years without knowing. She isn't the sort this happens to, she doesn't have creatures who want to know her and understand her like this. It was a pure connection, one built on a link they couldn't understand but knew all the same. Mysterious ways of the Almighty and all. She kept looking into those eyes, searching for any sort of trickery. Despite herself, she knew he wasn't the sort to lie.

The kettle started to screech and Aziraphale pulled away to pour the cuppas, destroying the moment. He slid hers in front of her, just as she likes it. It was delightful.

Y/N watched Aziraphale move around the kitchen. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he wasn't short either. She let her eyes fall along his strong forearms, revealed by his sleeves rolled to the elbow, lightly dusted with hair. His hands were capable, yet she knew they were soft. He might not be the most conventional sort of attractive, the type that movie stars are, but she was struck by him. Aziraphale had a draw to him that made her blush and glance down, suddenly shy in his presence yet knowing she was safe in who she is.

She realized that she wanted to know more about him, she wanted to hear his stories about his life, regardless of if she was in it. She wanted to know more about his relationship with Crowley, and what they had that seemed to be left unsaid. Y/N couldn't believe the fantastical reality that started playing in her head, a world where she lived and loved a demon and an Angel. Love was getting ahead of herself, she should be more careful. She longed for a good relationship with them, but that didn't mean that it had to be a romantic relationship. But, as she looked back at the Angel she sighed, damn did the Angel have great thighs.

"Dearest?" He asked, eyes wide and mouth just slightly parted as he stared at her.

She glanced down. Her tea had gotten cold and a warm cinnamon roll with apple slices on the side sat in front of her. "O-oh. Thank you."

"Is everything alright?" Damn him for sounding so sincere, blue eyes sweet like candy.

"You won't laugh?" She asked with a small smile, though she'd already made the decision to tell him honestly. She had a feeling lying would not make things easier in this relationship.

"No," Aziraphale answered precisely.

"I was distracted by you. You're so handsome."

Aziraphale seemed to have a little shock, as though he didn't believe that is what she said. "Pardon?"

"I," She laughed softly, embarrassed to revealing that so boldly. Y/N always admired those who were bold, and in the moments it was needed to she would, but she didn't often express those thoughts. Mainly for a fear of being seen as a creep, but also because rejection is a scary thought. But Aziraphale was sweet, and seemed flattered that she thought him to be handsome. "I think you're very handsome. I like looking at you."

His cheeks flushed pink and he took a rushed sip of his tea, "well, thank you darling. I- I hadn't quite expected that. I've been told I'm soft."

She laughed, "so? Soft isn't a bad thing."

"Do you like soft?"

"Sure, I like soft, I like hard. Besides, I believe personality and talent makes a person attractive anyhow, it's not too important what it might look like to society."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, there's plenty of people who look just as the world wants for beauty. And I don't mean to say they're unattractive, they are. But I personally believe that a kind, talented man who might be ugly to the papers is the most attractive you'll encounter. And a mean, untalented man touted as attractive tends to be ugly. Words change appearances."

"You're very wise, my dear," Aziraphale said with a warm smile, placing his hand over hers. She took a shaking breath, looking up at him. He was close to her now, hot breath that smelled of cinnamon hitting her cheeks as a hand lifted near her cheek, "May I?"

She didn't know what he was asking, but she nodded because she knew she'd relish in it all the same. First Aziraphale's hand went to the bobble round her hair, gently releasing it so it fell down. Her scalp itched from the strain, and his fingers gently massaged it. His hands were strong, capable.

She was struck for a moment with a memory that seemed forgotten. Her holding the hand of a kind stranger as she slid a finger onto his finger, the way he'd clutched hers as though he might lose her. They were warm then, kind. These hands had also blessed her when she wasn't looking, guided her safely home, and cared for her at the bank of the river at St James's park. For Aziraphale it was a flash, a mere second as the memories went through her mind but she felt them deeply, surrounding her. She could feel the dirt floor of the Globe theatre beneath her feet, or the way her heart had jumped when she spotted him in 1865. It was overwhelming and beautiful, she saw a whole person's history in her interactions with him, with them. It was stupid, it was silly, but she wanted to know them. She wanted to experience the life she could only remember in fragments.

Y/N hadn't realized that tears had come down her cheeks until those hands that spoke the history came to hold her face. She leaned into his touch, the pads of his thumbs wiping the tears away.

"My dear, may I?" Aziraphale asked, his voice suddenly huskier than she'd ever heard it. Her eyes opened, staring into his. He cried also, gentle tears down his sweet cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been holding onto his vest.

"Aziraphale... I remember you."

That was the invitation, the consent, he needed. With a gentle sort of ferocity, Aziraphale leaned in and took her lips in his own. It was eager yet restrained as it held her in place, imploring her to feel all that he felt. All 2,000 years of yearning over an unknown idea. She kissed back with an intensity she didn't know she had. She hadn't much kissing experience, not the sort to fancy many people due to her high standards that seemed only met by non-humans, but with each inexperienced stroke she paired it with passion and enthusiasm. He guided her, led her through the kiss with grace. It was like a dance. It was messy at times, noses clashing and tear stained cheeks brushing, but it was perfect. It was Aziraphale and Y/N, and they seemed to understand what the other needed.

They parted from air, their mouths not far from one another's as they let out gasps. Y/N wanted more, this Angel was dangerously close to becoming her own brand of oxygen and that kiss was the best bloody one she'd ever had. Her first was a horrible sort, a lad with no lips and horrible breath.

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Y/N's lips before pulling away more definitely. They were both right messes. Mouths swollen and pink, cheeks flushed, and hair ruined. Y/N hadn't even realized her hands had gotten buried in those soft curls, and his explored her locks that now hung free. She had a thing for good hair, and it seemed the Angel did too.

"Did - did I overstep any boundaries?" He asked, having to clear his throat. His voice came back to his normal register, though it seemed to ring with suppressed emotions.

"No," she said simply. "You didn't."

Aziraphale blew out a breath, letting his forehead fall against hers with a soft laugh, "I worried, my dear, that that was a rash decision on my part. You have only, technically, known me for two days."

"I've known you for a lifetime, love."

The nickname seemed to roll off her tongue, as it had the other night with Crowley. Comfortable, easy. And Aziraphale tried to stop the way his vessel's heart jumped at the thought of love. Too early, yes.

"Let's eat our breakfast, shall we?"

"I'm starved," she answered back, sitting on a bar stool and pulling her plate towards her. "This looks delightful."

They ate together with small bits of conversation intermixed between flushed glances when they caught the other staring at them. Aziraphale's food was as good as it looked, sweetness baked into a cinnamon delight that made her roll her eyes back. God she could eat this whole. Or, she supposed, she should say Aziraphale she could eat this whole, remove Her from the equation. Soon Y/N realized that she had a shift coming up at Nina's cafe, and needed to run to her flat to change.

"Your apron is at the front, dearest, with your purse from yesterday. We left them untouched."

"Oh, good, thank you Angel."

She went out and grabbed her purse, checking to make sure she had everything she needed. Then she realized her hair falling in her face. "Aziraphale?"

"Hmm?"

"I need my bobble back."

"Your what, dearest?"

"My bobble, hair tie thing. What you took out of my hair."

Aziraphale hummed as he walked into the main area and towards his desk, an odd yet attractive set of glasses on his nose. "I've not the faintest idea what you're talking about, love. Perhaps it fell."

Ah. Unlikely story. Especially unlikely given the bobble now on the angel's wrist. Guess he fancied her hair like that, round her face. She rolled her eyes and made to leave, before hesitating at the door. "Thank you, Aziraphale. For.. for taking me seriously. It's a strange idea, my soul being immortal and what not. I'm struggling to adjust. But I know that I want you and I want Crowley, I want to figure this out."

Aziraphale's chest seemed to lighten at the words and he smiled at the woman standing before him. She was beautiful and calm as she said this, her hair looking radiant. Y/N was quite right, he fancied her hair indeed. "I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. After your shift, if you'd like, you may come back to the bookshop?"

She smiled, "I'd like that. I, I think I'll pop round to my flat after work first to wash my hair. Let me write my number for you."

Y/N quickly scribbled her number on the front page of a very modern copy of Hunchback of Notre Dame, handing it to Aziraphale and saying, "it's my favorite book. Thought this new copy could handle the defacement."

Then she left quickly and the Angel watched her figure race past the door towards her flat, lips still pink from kissing an Angel.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Heyyyyyyy

Maybe you could write a Solomon’s aftermath over that Mammon fix you made where he came to comfort us.

Ik it is very unnecessarily straightforward but that all that has been going on my head-

Also Solomon angst is just 🤌🤌🤌

I fully accept if u refuse to do so

I assume you mean this fic, I got you ;)

Solomon pretended he didn't hear Mammon stumbling through the front door, just like he pretended he didn't know MC hasn't slept properly in days.

He pretended he didn't leave the door open, pretended he didn't know that the avatar of greed would be nearby tonight.

The next morning, he pretended it didn't hurt to watch MC go about their day with faded bags under their eyes, like they'd finally gotten enough sleep for once.

He's tried, damn it all he's tried so hard to comfort them, to pick them up when reality crushes them down, but after months of MC putting on a brave face and fooling him with that roguish smile, he's realised he doesn't know his apprentice nearly as well as he needs too.

He can't capture their attention the same way Levi does when he goes on a rant about literally anything, he can't make them feel gorgeous like Asmo can, and...he can't comfort them like Mammon can.

It's all he can do to watch from behind that wall of theirs as the brothers sweep his apprentice off their feet all over again.

All he can do is smile, and wonder if they'll ever look at him the same way the looked at Mammon that morning.

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

No One Else Can Have You: Nero x Male Reader

MINORS DNI; THIS IS FOR ADULTS ONLY

SERIOUSLY, GO AWAY!

SUMMARY:      Jealousy is rather familiar to Nero. The burning glare he gives to anyone whom Nero deems is being “much too friendly with you” is that of a seething devil. However, upon seeing you with someone that he cannot treat with such malice, the white-haired man takes a much different approach to proving how far he’ll go for you.

BEGINNING NOTES: Power Bottom Jealous Pre-4 Nero x Submissive Top Male Reader The reader is in (The) Order’s choir alongside Kyrie Nero has his devil bringer Close to just mindless smut Nipple play; Nero receiving Semi-aggressive foreplay--skipped oral aspect of foreplay (sorry lmao) ⚡❄️⚡ ➟Not sure if it’s talked about (or seen) in DMC 4 but I imagine (The) Order to have a living space akin to a boarding school mixed with a monastery--but with swords! (Haven’t played 4 yet and I’ve only skimmed the cutscenes because for some reason it’s like hard for me to get through idk why) ➟Kyrie is a bit handsy with the reader; she knows about the two of you and is doing it to tease Nero (Kyrie seems innocent and oblivious but she’s very aware; opposite Nero who seems like he isn’t and is). ➟I do tone down how “edgy” Nero is compared to how he is in 4. Hopefully, he’s not too OOC. ➟For anyone who has a hard time remembering: Nero’s devil bringer is his RIGHT arm (I kept having to re-look at him to remember which side lol). ➟This is very VERY shortly before DMC 4; like I’m talking a month or two. Yes, before someone decides to throw a fit, I h/c Nero to be around the age of 19 when DMC 4 takes place--born 22nd September 1999. He is NOT underage.

===

     Winter had just hit Fortuna and there was a light layer of snow on the ground, steadily growing from the continuous flurries. Amidst the sea of white, two people could be seen walking side-by-side. Kyrie and you were returning after chamber choir rehearsal, mindlessly chatting about the newest material you’d been given. 

     The ginger smiled, grabbing your forearm gently, “Come on, please?”

     You rolled your eyes, “No way,” a small laugh left your frozen lips, “I’m not duet partner material.”

     Her smile widened and she rolled her eyes slightly, hand sliding down to yours, “Oh please, I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

     “I’m flattered, really,” your gaze flicked down to your intertwined hands, a small confused furrow adorning your brow, “but there’s a lot of other members who would go better with you.”

     “Maybe, but I don’t want to work with them; I want to be with you.”

     The two of you stopped outside of a hall’s entrance, still holding hands, “I…” you gave a flat smile and shook your head, sighing in defeat, “I’ll look at the piece, alright?” Her eyes held an excited glint as she grabbed your other hand, pulling the pair up with an enthused stranglehold, “Don’t take this as me agreeing; I just want to see what it is first.”

     Before she could respond, the door swung open, revealing two familiar faces; Credo and Nero. She addressed them both, talking with her brother, while her hold on your hands only tightened. As the conversation drew on, you weren’t listening, being too busy debating if your fingers were dislocated or not. 

     “Is he alright?” Credo raised a brow, staring at you.

     Kyrie’s attention returned to you and, upon seeing how your fingers were losing circulation, she let go of your hands.

     Immediately you shook your fingers and pursed your lips, holding back some painful exclamations--knowing that Credo would string you up by your earlobes and beat you like a piñata. Once more, you didn’t really pay much attention to the conversation but, when you looked back at everyone, Kyrie had entered the hall and was walking alongside her older brother, waving goodbye. 

     Leaving you and Nero alone.

     The young man moved his jaw in thought before using his human hand to grab one of yours, quickly re-cutting the feeling to your appendages. Although you weren’t sure what was going on, you could tell Nero was mad--no, he was pissed. He was practically dragging you behind him, not saying a word. You tried to keep up with his pace but were unable to and kept falling behind. 

     “Nero, what-!” While attempting to catch up, you slipped on some of the newly formed ice and fell.

     The white-haired man’s shoulder and arm were jerked downwards with you, which helped break your fall. However, you still hit the ground while Nero remained on his feet, just off balance. Wincing quietly, you stood up and he grabbed you around the waist, still not talking. He hoisted you into his arms and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, confused as to what was going on. 

     Given, you did have a slight clue from past experiences. 

     The moment Nero stepped into his room, he threw you onto the bed, locked the door, and began to strip. You mimicked his actions, tossing your clothes into a pile on the other side of the room, until you were in your underwear--matching Nero’s look. 

     Admittedly, you still got an overwhelming nervousness when you saw his exposed skin. It was as beautiful as it was arousing. To see how flushed his pale skin became from the cold outdoors, the tasteful amounts of silvery body hair that led down to-

     Abruptly, Nero shoved you backward onto the mattress and straddled your middle. Typically, he tends to have a fun amount of force to his actions but today was different. Each one of Nero’s actions so far had been nearly contentious, giving you cause for concern. Perhaps he had a rough day with Credo and the others? Before you could question things too much, a desperate set of chapped lips met yours. 

     The white-haired young man pushed himself against you, his calves compressing your sides tight enough to leave bruises. His hands gripped the sides of your neck, forefinger, and thumb lining the hinge of your jaw on each side. Your hands grasped his thighs harshly, groping the muscles with fingertips just underneath the ends of his boxer briefs. 

     He slipped his tongue into your mouth. Slowly, his thumbs rubbed your cheeks and Nero took his time exploring. It was his first time doing something more than pecks and soft-biting lips, and it excited him. A small moan left your mouth at the feeling, in turn, Nero’s legs constricted further around you. 

     While exchanging wet French kisses, the white-haired man slid his hips back, his ass straddling your growing erection. Your hands slid to his back, running your hands along his shoulder blades. His hands drifted as well, one going up to the top of your head and the other to your side. Breaking off the heated exchange left both of you breathing heavily and with a hot overwhelming lust.

     Using the hand upon your head, he tilted you so he could have access to the crook of your shoulder and, without warning, bit down. 

     Hard.

     You arched against him, nails cutting into his skin, and let out a loud exclamation of a moan. 

     Against the new loving mark, he grumbled through gritted teeth, “Shut it.”

     Even though it sounded rude, you knew he was right. If the two of you got caught, who knows what would happen? Not only is it against the rules to have any sort of intercourse before marriage, but it is also taboo for men to share such delights. Plus, it was a sort of game between you two; who would break first and allow themselves to get loud--nine times out of ten it was Nero.

     Attempting to silence yourself, you bit your lip as Nero went back to working an even darker mark into your soft flesh. You worked your hands down his middle then back up, feeling him up slowly and meticulously. Despite seeing him nude many times, in both sexual and non-sexual ways, you still got an intense nervous sexual joy out of groping his body. Whether it was the heat, idea, or the actual texture, you weren’t sure; all you knew was that you wanted to touch him more. 

     Once your hands were on his chest, you squeezed his pecs before pinching at his nipples.

     “Fuck,” a grunt left his lips as he released his bite.

     Nero leaned up, allowing you more access to his chest, which you happily took advantage of. After a minute of debate--while you continued to futz with his tits--you leaned forwards, joining him in a seated position. Cautiously, you placed several kisses on his shoulders and collarbones. Your hands rested at the small of his back and you titled him away from you. Then, with the same vigor and force as he had against you, you bit down on his chest. 

     A stifled loud whine came from Nero’s nose as he used his devil bringer to cover his mouth, holding onto your back with his other hand. Encouraged by his noises, you bit down on a nipple and tugged slightly. Through his fingers, you heard him let out a muffled--but still loud, “Goddamnit,” he stared at the ceiling as he arched himself into you.

     It felt good-- really good. Nero hadn’t ever touched his chest while getting off before and he was starting to regret it. Feeling you let go, he adjusted himself so you had the other side in front of you. You raised a brow at him looking at him from the tops of your eyes.

     “Again--harder,” Nero’s face was bright red as he did his best to play confident, despite feeling weird for asking. 

     However, a sly smile from you and your compliance quickly washed those thoughts away. Nero placed his devil bringer against your back as well, holding you close to him. Against your gut, you could feel his cock twitching at your motions. With each tug and bite, each time you switched sides or bit down on his muscle instead; you felt him grind against you. 

     Nero wanted you. 

     You wanted Nero.

     It was as simple as that.

     Letting go for the final time, you coaxed him down into a kiss. It was intense, purposeful; Nero wanted to get across exactly what he intended to do with you. You bit at his lips lightly sucking and pulling on his bottom lip, making him let out a shaky breathy moan. 

     Nero leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I need you,” he ran his tongue along the shell of your ear, “Right now,” with a loving forcefulness, he grabbed the lobe of your ear with a canine and pulled--puncturing your flesh slightly.

     “You sure-” 

     He cut you off with a kiss, hands grasping and kneading your sides. 

     Quietly, you mumbled against his lips, hand wandering all over his lower back, “Lube?”

     “Yeah,” Nero got up and walked over to a corner of his room, pulling up the floorboard that covered his hidden stash of “contraband” items.

     When he went to turn around, however, he was pinned against you; his back to your front. Placing kisses against the nape of his neck, you ran your hands down his stomach and his happy trail. Teasingly, you ran your fingers around everywhere beside his cock. You found his squirming to be amusing while it only frustrated the pent-up man. 

     The way your dick was placed against his ass, the light ghosting of your touch, hot exhales against the small love bites you were making; it all combined into a mixed drink that was making his head all fuzzy. 

     And Nero hates feeling fuzzy.

     Being the way that he is, he was easily able to overpower your grasp and pivoted to face you. Using his devil bringer, he slowly prompted you to back up to the bed and he picked you up, tossing you again. Then he grabbed your underwear, yanking them off--removing his right after.

     Once again, you found yourself pinned underneath Nero. Although he was staring down at you with piercing sea-green eyes, you couldn’t help but look at his dick which was proudly on display. Pre-cum was dribbling down his shaft and was dripping onto yours, which wasn’t fairing much better. With a slight raise to his brows, he smirked and opened the bottle, lubing two fingers. 

     “Two right away?” Your hands wandered to his thighs, thumbing over them softly.

     “Yeah, jackass,” Nero grunted, hunching forward with a slight shiver, “I said what I meant.”

     After squirting some lube into your hand, you leisurely moved to his dick, “And what would that be, sugar?” A smirk tugged at your lips at his reaction to the feeling of you frotting your cocks together, “What? Cat got your tongue?”

     Through breathy heavy exhales, he growled lightly, “Fuck- you-!”

     Smile widening, you ran a thumb between his tip and yours, “If that’s what you want-”

     “Shut-- up.”

     Staring him in the eyes, you brought your thumb to your lips and stuck it in your mouth cleaning it before humming in thought, “Mmn,” you reached up and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, “I love when you get all feisty,” with a hand on his neck, you met halfway to share a heated sloppy kiss.

     Grabbing the lube again, Nero slicked his finger again, adding a third, then, he tossed the bottle in a random direction, leaving it to deal with later. 

     His original plan was to have you stretch him as he sucked you off, however, he decided against it at the last minute. Although he would never admit it, he was beyond nervous. This wasn’t his first time playing with his ass, sure; but, it was his first time going this far with you. As he fingered himself, he found his mind wandering in a panic. 

     What if he messes things up? 

     What if you don’t like how he feels? 

     What if--

     “Nero?” You put a hand under his chin, a concerned furrow on your brow, “You sure you want to do this? If you aren’t ready-”

     “No!” He snapped, quickly adding, “I can do this,” then, for the first time since entering his room, he spoke in a softer tone, “I want to try with you,” he removed his fingers and looked down for a moment, embarrassed, “please.”

     Giving him a nod, you kissed the corner of his mouth, “I’ll take your lead.”

     “Damn right, you will.”

     You laughed at his return to a cocky attitude. 

     Watching intently, you watched him sit up on his knees, attempting to position himself correctly. Helping him by positioning yourself manually, you nodded at him, telling him he could sit back down. 

     A loud noise somewhere between a gasp, moan, shout, and grunt left his lips. His hands balled up into fists, nails picturing his palms. Tip inside and his mind much too worried, he tensed up at the foreign object.

     “Nero,” you hissed, “You need to relax, otherwise this won’t--” you grimaced slightly, “won’t work.”

     After a moment, you vetoed him and picked Nero up off of your hips. 

     “No-” He frowned and glared, “I can do this.”

     “Nero-”

     “No, don’t “Nero” me,” he was angry at, what he thought was, you calling him weak. Being the cocky assertive man he is, Nero spread his ass and re-penetrated his hole. 

     A small groan left your lips, however, that quickly turned louder as you watched Nero sink rapidly onto your cock. 

     Thunderous whiny moans left Nero’s lips as he stared upwards, feeling how your dick was stretching him. It was much different than the small toys he had hidden away. The heat of your body was enough in and of itself to make Nero’s body quiver. 

     Bit by bit, he fully relaxed. Admittedly, he could’ve cum just from this act alone but he wanted to do some actual fucking first before releasing. His eyes met with yours and, in response, you thrust your hips upward slightly. 

     “Ngh- What,” he leaned forwards, bracing himself with his hands on your chest, “Fuck...”

     Taking that as an okay, you repeated the action, gripping each side of his hips. A moan left your lips as you felt his body giving way to you, allowing you to see a little bit of his submissive side for the first time. Low groans left his lips between uneven breaths at each one of your upward movements. Wanting to up the ante, you picked his hips up and pulled them down to meet your upward motions. 

     “What are you-- try-- trying to--”

     His thoughts were a mess. He wanted to act tough, to resist how good you were making him feel, and to act as if he weren’t impressed but he couldn’t. With each thrust and slight increase of force, it only made him melt further. 

     The white-haired man leaned back, arching his upper body outwards, and slammed his hips down into yours, “Fuck.”

     “Nero, that--” You groaned and matched his fervor, “keep doing that.”

     “Tch, sure,” he meant to sound rude but just came off as compliant.

     With each slap of your skin against his, Nero felt an odd fiery feeling bubble inside him. It wasn’t the same feeling as when he was close--this was something new entirely. He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin with how good he felt.

     As his speed surpassed yours, he looked down at you and stopped which caused you to meet his gaze, “Sit up.”

     Doing as he asked, you found yourself face to face with his chest again. Although he didn’t ask, you bit down on his nipple as you returned to slamming against him. He wrapped himself around you, arms cradling your head into him. As he bounced against you, he felt his cock rub against your gut which caused him to speed up even further. 

     However, you weren’t one to be outdone. Without warning, you released your bite and stood up. 

     “Shit, what are you-! Ah~!” Nero wrapped his legs around your hips.

     You moved to the nearest wall--which happened to be right by the door to his room--and slammed his back against it. 

     “I…” With a breathy huff, you nuzzled your face into his neck, staying there, “I am…”

     “Fuckin’,” Nero wasn’t fairing any better, “Cum inside me.”

     “Huh-! Ner-”

     “Did- I- stutter?” He leaned forward and bit down on the shoulder before him.

     Not wanting to waste any time, you sped up and hit your top speed. With a few more uneven jabs, you spilled yourself inside him. 

     “Nero~!” You hissed at the feeling of his ass tightening and the warm feeling of his cum spraying against your stomach. 

     “Shit yeah,” he leaned back and let out a bellowing moan, “Fuck that’s good.”

     Carefully, you made your way back to the bed and laid him down, removing yourself. A shiver ran up Nero’s spine at the feeling, his body unsure of how to react. You grabbed a nearby towel from the floor--hopefully, it wasn’t too dirty--and wiped Nero off, then yourself. 

     “Hey,” Nero propped himself up on his elbows, “I…” he stopped, biting his tongue, “Nevermind.”

     Sweetly, you leaned over to his forehead and placed a kiss, “I love you, Nero,” you smiled, pulling back to see his semi-flustered wide-eyed stare, “Is that what this was all about? Wanting to hear me say that?”

     “I…” he pursed his lips and nodded shamefully, “Seeing you and…” he shook his head, “Just bothered me.”

     You swept his hair out of his eyes, cupping his face between your hands, staring him dead on, “I love you, so very much. My sweet cranky edge lord.”

     “Pfft,” he turned to one of your hands, closing his eyes for a moment, then spoke softly, “I love you, too; dickhead.”

     “Mn, ‘dickhead’, huh?” 

     “I’m sorry,” his tone returned to normal, “do you prefer ‘asshole’?”

     With a click of your tongue, you shook your head, leaning back with hands on your hips, “Well if you’re gonna be like that then I am not going to invite you to take a bath together.”

     A small light lit up in his head at your words, “Oh? As if I’d let you do that without me.”

     “What?” You raised your brows in a mixture of disbelief and sarcasm, “You’re already hankering for another round?”

     His eyes slowly went down and back up your body, “Yeah, but,” he stood up and yanked you close, whispering in your ear, “Why don’t you let me show you what I can do,” he nipped at your neck, “I want to fuckin’ tear you apart.”

===

ENDING NOTES: The Nero brain rot has been super SUPER bad and I'm not sure why lmao Couldn’t call him a “hunter” in this since he’s not a part of the DMC crew and couldn’t call him “(the) teal devil” because he hasn’t triggered before, so sorry if things get a bit repetitive. Yes, the paragraph that ends with “He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin with how good he felt.” has to do with him having the urge to trigger--even though he doesn’t know he can do that yet. ❄️⚡❄️ First time writing a top reader and bottom character; hopefully it’s not too bad. Ngl power bottom Nero has been eating at my mind for a while now and I’m not sure why. It might be TMI but I am not a top (or a switch) myself so writing the reader as a top is weird lmao (which is also why the reader is submissive, can’t change everything in one fic; can I? lmfao) The point is: that this isn't going to be something that becomes like commonplace (unless a request asks for it--which are still closed as of posting this chapter) and is just something I did for fun lol

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If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[dreamlandcreations]

Made up fic title: We are what lies beyond

132 DAYS SINCE THE APOCALYPSE

26th near-death experience

17 working guns

9 supply runs that went wrong

5 groups of bikers working together in a fragile alliance

3rd attempt at building a sanctuary after the end of the world

1 man who gets you through it all

SEND ME A MADE-UP FIC TITLE AND I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WOULD WRITE TO GO WITH IT

[hersurvival]

If I tell you I'm spiraling,

Would you grab me, hold me steady?

Wind me back UP

Don't let me go down

Don't let me go

Don't let me

[telleroftime]

Food for thought

An idea where Reader is known to dabble in magic here and there. And under whatever circumstances they've been brought in to help Bowser maybe break some kind of curse or protect his kingdom from some enemy that's seeking them out. Whatever reason, they're learning spells and stuff.

And as they learn, it corrupts them basically slowly killing them but they're too worried about helping Bowser to say anything until one day they just succumb the effects.

Dark magic causes a lot of damage to a human.

Hehehe - Yes. Yes feed me this angst that is. It's.. Hehehehehe. I love it.

Warning for angst and description of bodily harm.

I can just imagine that for a while the Reader attempts to hide it. They noticed it straight away, the way it differs from their light magic. The way it feels heavier, like a nightmare as opposed to a dream. Feverish almost. At first it just tingles on their skin, but quickly - the more they learn - it starts to become like an irritation. An allergy almost. A plague.

Their hands starts to hurt and there's odd pigmentation there. The dark magic manifesting physically like a burn. Their arms ache, their lungs feel smaller every time they cast a spell. But, at the same time they learn more about Bowser. The outcome weighs a lot on their success. They need to do this. They want to help Bowser. They believe there is no other way.

So they hide the symptoms. "Oh, this is just a cough" - "I just didn't get enough sleep" - "I'm just low on magic energy, I'll be fine tomorrow"

But it just gets worse. They start to struggle with the pain. They stumble and groan every once in a while. Sometimes they cry when it gets too much. They start struggling with their normal magic almost as if the dark magic corrupted it. It becomes impossibly hard which only makes them spew more excuses.

The Reader doesn't want the king to see them as weak though, so they never speak up.

All until their body can't take it anymore and they collapse in the middle of a spell. The royal Magikoopas are called in instantly, all the healers at their disposal coming to aid. But the Reader ends up in a coma. A magic induced coma where their body tries to expel the dark magic. They groan and whimper and even in their slumber they attempt to scratch away the marks to the point they need to be observed and stopped before they scratch too much at their skin.

Bowser has no idea how he didn't notice it before. Why? Why didn't they say anything? Why did they hide it? There could have been another way, surely. They didn't need to risk themself.

But they did, and now they're not here. Not fully. Bowser is alone and Reader is stuck fighting whatever blemish the dark magic caused on their soul.

Eventually though, they wake up. Weeks... months... maybe even years later. It was a moment they were left alone. They wake up as if it was the next day. Their pain is gone, surprisingly numb, but the marks are still there. The scars from scratching at the pain, the odd pigmentation of dark magic wrapping around their body.

They're delirious for a few minutes, waking up like from a nap.

Then they storm out of the room. They can't be late! They were supposed to cast a spell for Bowser today, they were supposed to help the Magikoopas. They can't possibly miss that, they-

The room they enter is empty, no Magikoopa in sight as if the event was forgotten. It couldn't have been, could it?

Just imagine when Bowser manages to catch them. Reader wouldn't understand why he's so emotional. They saw him just the other day, didn't they? They barely process the words when they're told how much time actually passed. How much time the dark magic stole from them. How much could have been avoided.

It's just - ahh the angst potential!

[clownnotes-png]

CG! Kaveh and Regressor! Alhaitam

Kaveh sighed as he watched Alhaitam push the bowl in front of him farther away, the porcelain object now dangerously close to the edge of the table. “Kiddo, you need to eat at least a little of this.” Carefully Kaveh cupped the edge of the porcelain and pushed it back on to the table.

Gray hair splayed across the table as Alhaitham dropped his head onto it. “Nooo!” The bowl sat right in front of Alhaitham, the applesauce seemingly glaring at the boy. “Kavie mean for mak’n me eets it!”

Carefully Kaveh took the bowl and laid another hand on the back of Alhaithams head. “Buddy, what’s the matter? You normally love your applesauce.” With slow motions, Kaveh ran his fingers through the regressors hair attempting to calm him down.

Alhaitham huffed and looked up at Kaveh, tears pooled in his eyes. “Appie too much. Too f’avor!” As he spoke glares were shot towards the bowl - as if the food had personally offended him.

Finally able to understand the situation; Kaveh let out a soft tut and pressed a kiss to Alhaithams forehead. “You’re so much trouble little one, we could have solved this a lot sooner if you let me know.”

Kaveh moved to sit the applesauce in the fridge, knowing later at least he would come back for it. While the boy wasn’t in the mood for applesauce, Kaveh knew he had to eat something - just to find something he would want. “Would you like some crackers and cheese instead?”

Alhaitham seemed to light up at the mention of crackers, quickly nodding his head and reaching out. “C’ackers! Mmhm!” The regressor tapped his hands against the table, watching as Kaveh moved about the kitchen gathering his meal.

“Here you go kiddo, crackers and cheese.” Kaveh sat the plate down in front of Alhaitham and ruffled his hair. “Lunch is served.”

[badstargateimagines]

Stargate Character Analysis

Based on the songs I think make them cry and if they’re able to listen to it or not

Jack: Puff The Magic Dragon - Peter, Paul and Mary. I think this song would make him think of Charlie. I imagine that Jack used to sing it to Charlie at bedtime since he knew all the words and it felt right. Nowadays I think the line “dragons live forever, but not so little boys” really gets to him. Completely unable to listen to it. Weeps instantly to a point where he would crash his car if it came on shuffle. Thankfully, he listens to CDs

Sam: Nowhere Man - The Beatles. I think this song would have found it’s way into her musical vernacular when she was young. Being a military brat and, quite frankly, a genius, I’d imagine she felt like a bit of an outsider. I think this song would have brought her comfort but also still makes her teary-eyed. She can listen to it now with a smile but her eyes glisten. If she’s having a really rough time though, she’s scream crying.

Teal’c: Cat’s in the Cradle - Harry Chapin. I’m not sure if he would cry per se, but I definitely think he would think of all the time he missed with his son and get sad. I think we kind of forget that he and his son are separated a lot because of the whole saving the galaxy thing and I can only imagine that he gets sad about that a lot. I think he can listen to it but he just doesn’t want to.

Daniel: Time in a Bottle - Jim Croce. This song is 100% about Sha’re in his head. All his life he wanted someone to share it with and when it was finally happening for him, it was ripped out of his hands. I like to think that he knew the words when he was with Sha’re and would sing it from time to time and it was a happy song for him. Of course that makes it so much worse. He cannot listen to it anymore. If it comes on he skips instantly.

[florence-nomachine]

Henry Emily and transmasc reader? Anything is fine!

A/N: Thanks for the ask! I’m not trans / non binary myself, so I hope I’ve portrayed this ok :) I’ve made this platonic jic anyone wants to view Henry as a father figure/friend!

Right out the bat, Henry is very understanding

He obviously didn’t grow up in a generation that was understanding of gender identity but he’s taken steps to educate himself

Starts calling you by your preferred name immediately 

He might slip up once but he’s always very apologetic about it!

Lends you his large shirts (I always headcanon him to wear flannels) 

Offers to cut/shave your hair himself!! You end up sitting at the kitchen table just like Charlie would with cartoons on in the background :3

Is very proud of you in general. Always supportive and listens to your problems/worries

Doesn’t know how to bring up the subject of binders so waits until you feel comfortable to bring it up

Will give you hand-me-downs or little bits of money to get a new wardrobe

He’s not a fighter but will definitely argue (calmly) with someone who is judgemental of you

Goes with you to doctors appointments

Like any parent he’s a little worried if you start taking T, but trusts the process. He wants you to be your best, authentic self :)