#also. for some reason there was also a wedding happening in the same place as our training??? i know the guy getting married lol

[britneyshakespeare]

throughout the series of drake and josh it pretty consistently implies that josh nichols is a christian (josh peck is jewish) and in the finale of the series helen (played by yvette nicole brown, not jewish[?]) is portrayed as a practicing jew

[fishareglorious]

damn my entire body hurts. shoulder pain came back full force and my upper arms do to. i sit on a hard surface and I have to find the most optimal position to sit and don’t apple pressure on my tailbone and my ass bones. also i stepped on a sharp rock barefoot so both my heels hurt when i lean on them. damn man

at least the event yesterday was really fun, barring me having a raw egg running down my pants for two hours

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

[barista-blues]

Someone ordered 12 dozen donuts. For a wedding.

Pray for me.

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Hi! If youre still doing requests, i have kind of an odd ask , but maybe some of the upper moons' reactions to meeting Muzan's wife (reader). I also really like whipped!Muzan so maybe the other demons' reactions to seeing the demon king doting on his wife. Thank you very much :)

Hi Anon! (^○^.) I actually love this request, so thank you for sliding it into my askbox ♥

Honestly I love a powerful man - especially a powerful villain - who's just absolutely in love with their wife (♥ω♥.) and would do anything for them, it just brings me joy.

Anyway! I'm rambling abit, but here is your request! I hope I've done it justice (^ω^.) Please enjoy!

Come again to request whenever you want cause I'm always open.

Muzan Kibutsuji being whipped for his wife + Upper Moons Reactions - Headcannons:

You know those types of men that are just unmovable pillars of stone - who look like they were carved from the finest marble by the hands of angels - who are always impeccably dressed with a voice of icy poison and just command your attention?

Who turn to the softest love-struck mush when with their wife

yeah, that's Muzan Kibutsuji with his wife (aka. you)

The finest meals, clothes and jewelry are yours with a click of his fingers - all done to make you happy, to see you smile

Anything that you mention briefly - doesn't matter if it''s a book or a holiday - its yours by the end of the day

Just one smile and a fluttering of your eyelashes has muzan on his knees - a singular pout of your lips has his mind running wild

You just have to breathe and Muzan's heart squeezes, breath stuttering in his chest as he looks at you in adoration

You could ask for the world and he'd give it too you on a platter

Muzan worships you

Each touch from you is a blessing to his skin

Each kiss sealed into him

Each word of love that falls from your lips make him drunk to hear, each sentence thick with a love that leaves hearts in his eyes and his heart thumping wildly

He wants to wear you like a brand - each mark you leave on him (bite marks and all) are worn with pride - and you (and only you) get to touch and mark his skin in such sensual ways

Under his wedding ring, his finger holds your bite mark, something that he begs you to do each day - with love-struck tears pricking his eyes - and it always makes him feel like he's properly yours

"My Love," He purrs with a voice a think velvet "My wonderful wife, my moon and stars, I love you for ever and always" and he kisses you so softly

Sometimes you have to stop this man from wearing matching clothes with you - "But Beloved,"he whimpers with a face liked a kicked puppy "I want us to match" - because he will absolutely wear a matching couples outfit

Other days he just likes sharing the same colour palette

When you worship him by placing soft kisses to his skin - his wrists, knuckles and faces - Muzan feels like he's on cloud nine

Upper Moons Reactions:

When the upper moons first met you, it was by accident - pure accident -they'd been summoned and it just so happened that it was when muzan was just in the midst of kissing you and bathing you with compliments

Kokushibou doesn't even blink and just stands in position like a trained guard, this sight has been something he's accidentally stumbled upon a couple of times before and honestly it makes him miss his wife

Because this isn't the first time he's met you but rather the fifth, the first actually time he met you, you were incredibly respectful of him and actually treat him nicely - you became tea drinking buddies - so he quickly came to like you

Douma/Doma genuinely shrieks - like an honest to god scream - before quickly going to make fun (not a good idea) about how loving Muzan is and, "Why don't you treat us this way Muzan-sama~ You're breaking my heart~"

Akaza looks away from such an intimate scene with respect since it felt wrong to look upon his lord loving his wife - although his heart does ache for some reason when looking at such a perfect loving scene

Hantengu starts sobbing while apologizing anxiously - actually very jealous at how loving the scene is, he wants a wife and to dote on someone

Gyokko simply proclaims it as artful and simply leaves it as such

Daki Blushes a deep crimson - it makes her want a husband to dote on her so much

While Gyutaro simply sighs before looking away - much like kokushibou and akaza in respect - with jealous crawling up his ribs at such love, he wants somebody to dote on and love him so romantically

[narcjsistx]

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 | OS

sae itoshi x fem reader ; words: 1.4k (1487)

coming from this event, second day, 19/12

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: that your boyfriend was sometimes distant was not a new thing. he often needed his space, both physical and mental, and you accepted this. but you did not expect him to put a match in the first place of the list on the day of your wedding anniversary

The pillowcase was slowly drying after collecting all those tears, but a wet feeling was still noticeable if you rested your cheek on it. Even though hours had passed, the wet feeling remained on your cheeks too. The room was silent, the only audible noise came from the flat-screen television, which with dazzling lights transmitted the face of your boyfriend, now husband, in his ReAl uniform. Hair combed as usual, the same serious face, the same Sae Itoshi. The only thing that still gave a little hype to his fans was the ring that reflected on his finger, which he had been wearing for exactly a year now. Your wedding had left the entire football world speechless, because no one would have ever expected to see Sae Itoshi, the Japanese prodigy, become a mass of love for a simple girl

Yet, exactly one year ago, Sae had sworn to himself that your dreams, your ideals, your everything would now also become his inspiration; that now, no matter what the situation, he would do anything to be by your side. Your dream was to have a normal first anniversary, but why he wasn't there with you? What happened to his heartfelt promises?

It's that Sae, despite being a mass of love, remained Sae. Sae, who needs his space from time to time; Sae, who loves solitude as much as he loves being with you; Sae, who nevertheless remains the most famous soccer player in Japan for his prodigious skills. You had to understand that something like this would happen sooner or later, but you didn't expect it on this day

The game begins. You watch your husband move nimbly among the opponents, who try in every way to keep him from getting close to the net

Your head still hurt a little from the little fight you had. This morning you had woken up with the intention of spending the most romantic day in the world with your husband; yet, when you woke up and didn't find him in bed next to you, you realized that there was a problem, or that maybe he was simply hungry and had gone earlier than expected to have breakfast in the kitchen. Getting out of bed you heard his voice talking on the phone to someone, and when you arrived in the living room he didn't even say 'good morning'

"I'm leaving. The team is one player short due to an injury, they asked me to play"

You had replied that he didn't have to accept, that he had literally asked for a day off just to be with you, and yet now he didn't seem to care as he packed all his usual things into his sports bag and left the house, leaving you sad and also a little disappointed. You couldn't explain how you, his wife, had been put in second place because of a stupid game. How could he have done it?

You and Sae had been together for years now, but never, never, absolutely never, he had put you second to soccer, which was strange actually. When you started dating him you had already gotten used to the idea that, if everything had gone well between you, you would always be second to his greatest passion; and yet, it had never happened, in fact, it had happened that he had canceled training to be with you. But why did it happen now that you were even married?

He was playing in a nearby stadium actually, a few kilometers from your house in sunny Madrid. For a moment you had the idea of taking the car and going with him, surprising him and forgetting about this situation, but you hadn't done it for the simple reason that you felt exaggeratedly annoyed. You have always been a calm and patient person, especially with Sae who you knew needed his space and, in some cases, his time. But now, wrapped up in your bed with the pillow to your chest and your gaze fixed on the television, calm and patience seemed to be only a distant and beautiful memory

The commentator starts talking in a rant just as your husband is frighteningly close to the opponent's goal, the ball tightly in his field of action. With a sharp and precise backheel the ball ends up in the net, causing the entire stadium to erupt in a hungry roar for more goals from the Japanese prodigy. Even though you were angry with him, deep down you couldn't help but be proud to see him shine, even if him being there had caused you pain and annoyance

The cameras are all focused on the boy, who with his usual nonchalance does nothing special. Scoring goals is extremely easy for him, more than once you have asked yourself if he actually puts in the least effort or if he just puts the autopilot on every time he enters the field. The precision with him kicks the ball is measured to the millimeter, and you have to say that it is the same he has always had with you since you have been together. It wasn't an easy cohabitation at the beginning, but you loved him and he loved you, so with patience you tried to understand how to reach a point of agreement

The second half begins. The opposing team marks him with a sort of rage, but the ball always comes back to your husband's feet, like a magnet. It only takes a few minutes before another goal, again by Sae, brings his team to an unmatched level, no longer reachable by the opposing team. It is impossible to recover 2 goals in less than 10 minutes, and then frankly the opponents seem a bit poor to you. And just as you predicted, the game ends with the spanish team winning and the crowd chanting your husband's name

You get out of bed, sitting on the mattress as the reporters come out to interview the players. You know Sae doesn't like being interviewed, so he'll probably be home in less than another hour; the air will probably be a little uncomfortable because of the little fight, but you sigh. It just happened

You are about to leave the room to go get a glass of water, when you hear your husband's voice on television. An interviewer caught him just as he was about to enter the players' exit corridor, the one that leads to the locker rooms

"Sae, really amazing match today"

"Yes. I think the same."

"From the director it was understood that today you actually weren't supposed to play, you had the day off but you freed yourself anyway when you learned about the problem due to the missing player. The day off was for your anniversary?"

"Yes. I was supposed to celebrate with my wife actually."

"And you're playing here? Wife in the background like most players? It wouldn't actually be new-"

"Please don't label me as someone who doesn't care about my wife. If I didn't care about her, I wouldn't have asked her to marry me, right?"

"I'm not saying that's, just that-"

"I love my wife. Today is our anniversary and if I scored 2 goals the team should thank her, since they were dedicated to her. It's just the first part of my gift"

"It's just that-"

"I have to go. You're taking away time I could spend with her."

And so, walking away from the reporter, Sae enters the corridor and disappears. You remain still for a few seconds, turning only when the reporter talks about something else. Sae is not one to show his love, not that he is ashamed, but it is not in his reserved nature to do so; and now, in front of millions of people, he has so freely admitted everything he feels?

Was that your husband? It really was your Sae?

You run to the kitchen, grabbing your phone and entering his chat, where you find a message you hadn't read, sent shortly after you argued

— hubby <3 🐙❤️

Don't take this the wrong way. I'm not doing this because I don't care about our day

- Did you actually say those things on TV? Do you have a fever?

You finally answered. No fever, sorry to disappoint you. I just wanted to do it

- It was unexpected

That I dedicated goals to you or that I talked about you so openly?

- Both

I'm coming home. Sorry for earlier, but I want to tell you to your face. There are more gifts I still have to give you, it is our anniversary after all, right?

If he had all these gifts he talked about, maybe you could give him yours that you've been mulling over since last night. Maybe it was time to show him that pregnancy test that's been in your drawer for hours

TAG: @natmagaesp ; @kittenish0 ; @x3nafix

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 1

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

tags: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, miscarriage, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: y'all, im back after ghosting this page for way too lonh cuz im on my process of taking psychology. yep! this random bitch is up for being a psychologist despite her mental health place amidst the fluctuating status. and you know what's crazy? my sanity is slowly decomposing! all thanks to that one mf and one chapter in which im not going to name about (gege and jjk chapter 261)

previous / masterlist / next

it all started when he started caring for you.

after being inside an arranged marriage for like five years, satoru was confident with himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is perfectly capable all by himself.

to say the least, the start of your marriage was a definition of an absolute disaster. clearly, you and satoru were like a magnet in the same pole, it can never collide despite how many efforts you push on both magnets.

from fights, misunderstanding, up to almost divorce after you caught him kissing another girl when you decided to give him a visit during his mission.

you were hurt, yes. but you would always tell yourself that neither of you want this marriage, so being hurt when there's no even love is called invalid. yet, you can't still help it but to feel somewhat jealous because he was supposed to be your husband—but oh well.

your family begged you to stay as it was for the peace of mind and safety of your clan. you snorted sarcastically as you wondered if they ever cared for your personal peace of mind and safety also.

nevertheless, you still stay inside this loveless marriage and maintain the gojo surname. you forgive him even though he's not explaining himself nor asking for your forgiveness.

as for satoru, he's aware that he's being a dick to you. his reason is that this marriage was his least priority as it was a hindrance for him. so basically and truth may hurt, he thinks you're only a hindrance and a distraction from the higher ups.

there were times where he would bury himself with work so he doesn't have to go to his original home and breathe the same air as you.

there were also times where he spent almost two months without seeing you or even communicating with you. it was like you didn't exist in his life nor he doesn't have a wife!

although, he is not that cruel to the point that he would slam the fact in your face. no, he's just leaving his presence until you feel it yourself that he doesn't want you.

his shenanigans would continue for almost a year until that night occurred.

that night when it was your wedding anniversary and he came home very late after fighting some annoying curse. he took a swearing underneath his breath when the stinky smell of curse blood hit his nose.

scrunching up as he was about to proceed to his own room (despite being married, you two sleep in a separate room) to clean up when he saw you up by the garden. you are currently watching how your little seedlings grow into beautiful flowers swaying along the air with a calm look on your face.

your husband broke the silence by asking you what are you doing this late. in which you replied that you couldn't sleep as you slowly looked at him.

satoru watched your face, it did not even flinch with any kind of emotion—nothing, just nothing. you're basically acting like a robot to him, and he hates it.

"i'll prepare a warm bath for you." you mumbled, standing on your feet and was about to leave when he grabbed your arm.

"i heard what happened earlier." satoru said slowly, as if he's being careful on his words which was very out of character for him.

"really? great." detaching from his hold, you left him no chance and instantly left.

"y/n." the man followed you until both of you reached the bathroom. you paid him no attention and just did the usual things you do, prepare him a bath.

"talk to me, please." his tone becomes soft, pleading. turning the water on, you refused to turn around, you refused to make physical contact with him, you refused to let him see the tears brimming in your eyes.

"go on. say what you want to say. i'm listening." you mentally curse yourself for almost stuttering. satoru looked at you, eyes finally unveiling an emotion. he aches to hold you for some reason but to think that he doesn't want to upset you even further, he stops. all he can do is watch you serve him.

"do you want to keep it?" he asked quietly, his ocean blue eyes dropping on your stomach. getting uncomfortable, you tried to hide it.

splash, splash, splash, you did not answer him.

"i said, do you want to keep it?" satoru asked once again. this time, his voice was a bit louder than before.

"i don't know. do you want to?" you asked him back the question, quietly.

your husband went quiet. having a child is not part of your plan but you have to because that's your purpose of marrying him, to bear an heir. now, satoru was asking you nicely if you want to keep it when in the first place, it should happen this way.

"how many months?"

"two."

"and you didn't tell me?"

"do you want to know?"

"of course i want to know. that's literally my child in there." he pointed to your belly with a slight frustration on his face.

you did not say anything back, just continuing your duties as his wife—wife on papers. satoru was growing upset, tired, even angry at you. where was the talkative and fierce look that you have? where's the harshness in your voice? why do you look so vulnerable now?

"you can take a bath now. i'll be downstairs to prepare you dinner."

"y/n, wait—"

*slam*

before satoru could even stop you, you already left, leaving him in all silence. the husband heaves a deep sigh within him as he recollects the events prior to this day. he remembers how he acted when he discovered to ijichi that you went to the hospital and went back home with a pregnancy result in your pocket.

satoru remembers almost getting killed by the special curse when the news caught him totally off guard. you two only have intercourse when both are drunk after coming home from shoko's birthday and that's it. you also told him that you were on pills so he's relieved. but how?

what if—

no, no, no. you wouldn't. you wouldn't do that to him. you are his little loyal wife and even though both of you aren't on good terms, he trusted your loyalty…or was he? were you?

everything was so messed up that he couldn't think of anything even after taking a shower and now he's on his way downstairs to eat dinner. once he was in the kitchen, he saw you almost absentmindedly cutting the vegetables.

satoru took a seat, quietly. he was watching you as your back was facing him. his six eyes weren't dumb to notice how much weight you are slowly losing. unconsciously, satoru was clutching his fists tightly.

"i bought you your favorite milk tea. it's in the fridge, you can drink it later." your voice seemingly dropped him from his daze. satoru looked at you once more, only to find out that you're still not facing him back.

"o…okay, thanks."

minutes later, you place a plate of curry in front of him. satoru noticed that there's only one plate on the table, which was his.

"where's your meal?"

"i already ate." oh right, it was literally midnight now. you should be asleep by now, yet here you are, serving your husband. also, why does it seem like satoru was hoping to eat dinner with you? it is unusual, to be honest.

for your five years of marriage, you two would only eat together for formal matters. but with a simple domestic setting like this, there's no way a peace would occur if the two of you shared a table and a meal.

while he is eating, satoru watches you grab the said milk tea from the fridge and place it in front of him. "just leave the dishes on the sink. i'll wash them later." and with that, you left the dining room.

the food was great, it was very delicious. satoru can't deny that you're great at cooking, and you really have a specialty when it comes to curry like this. but why does this meal taste bitter? perhaps, was it because of the taste of his conscience? he doesn't know.

the six eyes ate in silence. he was planning to talk to you later about everything. but anyway, satoru has been eyeing the milk tea you bought for him. now this wasn't unusual. everytime you would go out, you would always buy him some of his favorites, mostly food.

like there's a time where you bought him his favorite mochi, crepe cakes, churros, ice creams—basically every dessert or food stalls you happened to pass by. it warms his heart, though. there's also a time where he anticipated what kind of sweet delicacy you would give him next.

anyway, satoru finished eating his meal. he was drinking the milk tea you gave to him while searching for you. he saw you sitting on the same spot when he first saw you this evening, by the patio of your garden. silently, satoru took a seat beside you with a mindful distance between you two.

"can we talk?" he started. in which you reply with a soft hum. satoru finds himself gulping, he sets aside his drink first before mimicking your posture—wrapping his arms on his folded legs.

"so um, since there's a baby now…i'd like to discuss this matter with you, properly. i was thinking about…moving you in one of the jujustu high's dorms." satoru nibbles the straw of the sugary drink, absentmindedly.

"it's for safety measures, since i'm not always at home and the risk will be doubled by now. but if you're inside the campus, a lot of sorcerers would be able to protect you." he added.

"okay." you did not even question him or even argue with him, you just simply agree without a second thought.

the man could feel himself gulping, the bitterness increasing despite the sweet liquid he was drinking. he's starting to get uncomfortable the way you are currently acting.

also, come to think of it, you agreed to temporarily live in jujustu high—does that mean you are keeping the baby? satoru couldn't help but to finally ask you.

"d…does that mean—"

"the baby has nothing to do with us. i'm not that cruel to take its life." before satoru could beat you, you already beat him.

"when will i be moving out?"

satoru gulped the growing rare anxiousness down to his throat. "probably next week. give me some time to deliver this news to the higher ups." you just mumbled an okay as your response.

"y/n, are you really sure about this?" the man couldn't really pinpoint your decision. although you made it explicit, he still couldn't comprehend you.

"i'm okay with anything. it's just you who didn't. also, if you are planning to ask me about keeping the child once again, go ask yourself instead. your decision is my decision." you replied.

satoru made a mental note that your voice sounds more tired than before. it kinda ignited something that he was not used to feeling before as literally a man-god himself who's full of pride.

"i'll be resting now. have a good night." he did not stop you, in fact, he thinks it's for the better. satoru could only follow you by his gaze as you enter your own room.

yes, your own room. the two of you did not share the same room. you two couldn't even bear to eat together, what more on sleeping together. this is not what satoru meant when he asked you to talk. but oh well, guess he should also call this a night. with that, satoru retreated to his own room and slept.

fast forward, you moved to jujutsu high and started teaching as a history teacher in a world full of related curses(suggested by satoru) since you're an alumni at this school like your husband. you like that idea too since it's a great way to distract yourself from everything.

currently, you are watching your third year students train themselves along with the second years and the first years. it was quite a good sight since all of them have a nice and strong potential as a sorcerer.

suddenly, one of your husband's students came to you with a big smile on his face. that must be yuuji, the vessel for the infamous king of curses. you always adored him, he's a good kid. but you couldn't help but to be saddened by the fact that he was literally carrying a big burden over his life.

"y/n sensei, good afternoon!" he waved at you before taking a seat nearby you. behind him, you saw his two other friends—your husband's students too.

"oi, you're being too loud." megumi scolded his friend. he was worried that yuuji's loudness was too much for your situation, your pregnancy.

"it's fine, megumi." you just chuckled. "i have some extra chocolate bars here, you three can have it." the trio thanked you happily, while you just smiled in return.

"by the way, we have a question for you, y/n sensei." yuuji said, munching on the chocolate. you asked him to shoot the question but he suddenly hesitated, looking at his two friends for support.

when he received the support he needed, he took a deep breath. "y/n sensei, we were wondering about your husband a-and…" yuuji trailed off. you already know what he meant, so you didn't wait for him any further.

"oh, i suppose you are curious because you haven't seen my husband even though i technically lived here?" the smile still lingers on your face as you watch them nod their heads.

there's something that you forgot to mention to them, they don't know that their teacher is your husband and the father of your child. you were prepared for a situation like this, though.

megumi on the other hand, could've known this beforehand since satoru took care of him during his childhood. then your marriage came through and your husband was already taking care of megumi, but it was kept a secret to everyone—including him.

stroking your six months belly, a recent hobby of yours when you want to seek some comfort. "he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower me with love by making sure that we still communicate despite his busy schedule."

"lately, we've barely talked. yet, he promised me that he will finish all of his jobs and tasks before going home to me. probably that's when our child is about to be born." you sigh just to justify this facade.

the students seem to believe your story. although you're quite worried that they might tell this to gojo and your cover will be blown. you planned to talk about this to him, anyway.

"that must've been hard, y/n sensei." nobara mumbles out of sympathy. she was worried for you and your child due to the absence of your husband.

if only they knew that your experience was much harder.

"you could always come to us, y/n sensei. we will not hesitate to help you and your child." beaming brightly as the other two agreed, you really adore yuuji. the amount of softness he gave to you is something that your future child would like to possess.

"thank you, you three. now, you all better go back to training. i will be heading to shoko since i promised to visit her." watching as the three wave their good-byes to you, you couldn't help but to feel an urge to protect them at all cost. probably due to your maternal instinct but whatever, you just hoped they would stay safe.

another fast forward, you are on your way towards shoko's office to spend your free time. knocking softly on her wooden door, shoko opens the door with a smile on her face.

"how's my little mama doing?" she engulfed you with a hug, which you returned warmly.

"good. the morning sickness did not attack me today, thank goodness." you said as you took a seat on her sofa.

shoko also commented that she was happy too. as mentioned before, stroking your six month old baby bump is a must on a daily basis. you are now used with a thought and feeling of a growing child inside you.

"and how're you and dickhead gojo?" shoko changes the topic.

"we were just fine like i have said before."

your friend heave the deepest sigh you've ever known. "just fine? y/n, do you want me to say the like i have said before too?"

"sho, ever since we knew that we're having a baby, we really tried our best to be compatible with each other. but we just couldn't." it's true, on the exact tomorrow of that eventful night wherein gojo discovers your pregnancy, he tried to make it up to you by lessening the sparkling arguments, making sure you are well feeded, and even showering you with things your eyes would have landed on.

you are delighted, of course. even though he absolutely fails his duty as your husband, at least he's trying his best to be a good father for your child. you appreciate him for that and also start to open your heart and pour a little more trust to him.

however, you are not dumb to notice the faint smell of a female's perfume and lipstick stain on his neck whenever he's with you. your heart slowly closes once again and your little more trust shatters.

once you saw yourself crying silently—feeling betrayed and angry for yourself on trusting him shortly after that. guess old habits never die, you are crying about something you've already expected. self-blaming is an understatement for letting your guard absolutely down.

gojo's still a jerk even though you had his baby. i should've expected this. having a baby doesn't mean he's going to change for me.

"we both tried, sho—we both tried. but we just couldn't." your voice dropped its tone once more. you still felt bitter even if it happened way back like two months ago.

"or he just couldn't." she snorted sarcastically.

you both knew she's right, gojo just couldn't. for years of being married, you unfortunately learned how to love a man like him who doesn't even give a one shit about you. tragic. very fucking tragic. if only you could see yourself directly, you would laugh at her nonstop.

"maybe this marriage is meant to be loveless—"

*slam!*

"yo shoko, i need—oh…" the door suddenly bursts open as it reveals your hot issue for today and probably for the rest, your husband gojo. you could tell that he was also surprised (but he shouldn't be) to see you here in shoko's infirmary.

"learn to fucking knock, gojo." shoko hissed at the white haired male.

"oh sorry. am i interrupting something?" he asked, looking at everything but you. he refused to spare you even a small glance, which you kinda do the same.

"you're not. now what do you need?" shoko was the one who answered him.

before gojo could even open his mouth , you already excused yourself. "i'll be taking my leave now. thanks for the check up, shoko." and then you left, leaving shoko and gojo with an awkward silence.

"aren't you going to talk about your business or maybe you want me to kick you out?" shoko sarcastically made a comment.

"right…" satoru cleared up his throat. for some reason, he doesn't know why he's suddenly getting iffy.

"ho…how's the child doing?"

"you have to be fucking kidding me." shoko groaned loudly. somehow, she expected this, but she couldn't believe that she would actually encounter this.

"y/n was just right there moments ago and you didn't even bother to ask her that yourself?!" the doctor could feel herself getting really annoyed. the truth may hurt but she's getting annoyed by the two of you.

fight here, ignore there—ignore there, fight here.

"bet she told you that we're not on good terms even though we really tried to work it out. yet, you're seemingly acting clueless." satoru snorted sarcastically. he's not dumb that you're telling stories to your friend, shoko.

the doctor rolled her eyes. she was this close from smashing his old friend's face to the wall to wake him up and stop being an idiot. "every fucking time, gojo. but that should not be an excuse to not talk to her. you two are still married for god's sake, and now, there's even a child along the way. i can see how much effort y/n has put in your marriage, you must do the same."

"don't you dare to compare her efforts to mine, you know nothing." he growls.

"but i sure know how shitty you are."

something inside satoru snaps. "why are you being angry at me?! you've been like this since we got married. always defending y/n, but what about me?! i have been your friend since highschool and you just met that girl! wouldn't it be unfair to side with someone whom you just met?!"

"you're asking me that when you have six eyes and yet, you can't see how much she suffers from you?!”

“but what about me? am i not suffering too?!”

how did we get here? things are getting pretty out of hand. two friends getting fired up because of a marriage that was about to fall apart. one being inside the marriage while the other one has the eye inside the marriage.

both shoko and gojo have their own sides but it all leads back to one thing, you are involved.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage. everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“just want, what? end your marriage by divorcing her?”

the moment the last syllables escaped her lips, she already knew the answer.

“fucking gojo.” shoko mumbles under her breath. “if you want to fix your life, you better not act dumb.”

satoru was still caught silent. his wide eyes trailed on the floor and unable to move. shoko saw how she hit the point. sighing over herself, she motioned the door. “get out, gojo. if you're gonna rethink your life choices, do it in your home with your wife.”

and with that, without a word, satoru left her clinic feeling heavy and defeated.

along the hallway, he saw you. satoru saw you looking at him with horror in your eyes—for the first time in one month, you finally looked him in the eyes, but it's filled with fear and tears.

“y/n, i—” just like what he had done before he left shoko's clinic, you left without saying a word.

satoru felt everything become hazy, his knees were trembling, his six eyes were stinging, his lips were turning white on how hard he bites them. the man shuddered in disappointment, you must have heard everything.

his feet act on their own and chases you, holding you by the wrist. but it was torn away immediately after you forcefully snatched it back. while doing so, satoru didn't fail to notice the hot tears streaming on your pale face, in which you immediately wiped it out.

“y/n, i-it’s not what you think. i…” as much as satoru would like you to hear himself, he hasn't gotten the words. he was left stuck by his own thoughts and self-doubt that he puts himself into shame.

meanwhile, you thought you could've just walked away from the scene. but from the moment you hear shoko and satoru exchange heated words, it gets you glued to the floor and unable to move. despite her clinic being semi-soundproof, you hear everything. even if you're not there in the room physically, you seemingly know everything.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“y/n,” satoru called your name. his tone was very far from you used to. you grow accustomed to him saying your name venomously, but now it seems like he's saying your name delicately and vulnerable…and satoru hates being vulnerable.

“i know what you're thinking. i accidentally eavesdropped but i didn't t hear everything.” you internally praise yourself for being a great actress. you thank yourself for not stuttering and not sounding so dejected.

but you lied. you're a terrible liar. you heard everything. you heard every single thing that escaped his lips during his argument inside your friend's office. and you feel like dying, his words hurt you so much more than any deadly curses.

“have you eaten already? do you want me to prepare you for a bath?” satoru couldn't understand why the heck you still care for your wife duties when your husband, him, just broke your heart not so long ago?

you're acting absolutely strange in his eyes and he hates it. he hates how you would just bury or bottle your emotions. you're creating a facade and a labyrinth where you keep it by yourself.

“y/n, it's not time for anything. let's just talk please.” you hate it how he sounds like he's begging, but satoru never begs.

“let’s go to my room. let's talk this out—”

“gojo sensei! yaga sensei was looking for y—oh…” yuuji trailed his tracks when he saw you and satoru together.

“dummy! why do you just yell like that?!” megumi bonked his friend's head for interrupting your talk.

wearing your mask again, you smiled at the duo then brushed yourself away from the scene. satoru couldn't stop you any further, you're already away from him.

either way, satoru does the same, he wore his mask just like you. smiling at his students, he let them navigate the way towards yaga and deal with all of his shits so he would have time and talk to you properly this time.

meanwhile, yuuji and megumi were dismissed after they had done their task. nudging his black haired friend, yuuji pointed out things earlier.

“hey, fushiguro. is it just me or did i just see y/n sensei…crying?” he questioned. megumi remained silent because even saw that you were crying—they’re also not dumb to notice the burst energy somewhere inside your body.

“whether she is or not, it's none of our business.” megumi replied.

“i know. but i couldn't help but to feel really worried about her. you know crying can be bad, especially when you're pregnant, that could stress her out.” yuuji surprisingly knows how pregnancy somehow works. but they both know he's right again. they're worried about you and your baby, so they both take a mental note to visit you later.

as you slam the door behind you, a silent sob escapes your lips as you slide your back behind the wooden frame. along with the sound of your cries, was also the sound of your heart breaking.

for some reason, the facade you just put up there early makes you suffocate. it burns your eyes and it makes you shudder in pain. the hyperventilating noise escapes from your lips while you clutch the handful of fabrics of your blouse.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

god, that feeling burns! his words keep on burning in your head, engraving the letters piece by piece. those words are not too cruel, it's a little far from what you had heard before. but it came out directly from your husband's mouth, the father of your baby.

maybe, you think you acted this way because of your hormones. but nonetheless, he's like blaming you for all of his misfortunes and that made you recall your past arguments with him before.

it was like a collection of puzzles coming up together, picturing a clear image; you were just a distraction, he wanted nothing to do with you, you were just a burden, he wanted to dissolve this marriage, you would never be his, he wanted to be free from you.

you put your hand on your baby bump, stroking it ever so gently. you swore to yourself that you would never let anyone harm your baby, you would never let this marriage harm your baby, you would never let satoru harm your baby, you never let yourself harm your baby. that's for sure.

because as the clock ticks, time passes. and as the time passes, more tears flow to your cheeks along with blood on your legs.

[part 2 is out now — ©luvvixu2024]

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Husband Alexander the Great pretty please? 🥹

❝ 📜 — lady l: here! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: possessive behavior, mention of death and toxic relationships.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

Alexander had no thoughts of getting married anytime soon or, according to some sources, getting married at all. The rumors were always varied, some said he didn't want a wife and others went as far as saying he wasn't attracted to women.

This continued for some time until he met you and decided he would take you as his wife. Alexander found himself enchanted by the way you spoke, your smile and the look you had. He knew he would have to become your husband and so he did.

Although his generals were surprised and some even worried about his choice of bride, Alexander was resolute. He fell in love with strength and with an intensity that few could resist, making a point of showing his power and determination.

Alexander's marriage to you was a grand event, worthy of a King who conquered vast territories and accumulated immense power. The ceremony was held with all the pomp and circumstance expected from an event of such magnitude. Alexander wanted the world to know the importance of this union.

The preparation for the wedding was meticulous. From the luxurious costumes, decorated with embroidery and precious stones, to the sumptuous banquet that would be served to the guests. Everything was handpicked to reflect Alexander's greatness and the respect and love he felt for you.

As you exchanged your vows, Alexander spoke with a passion that touched everyone present. He has promised to love, protect, and honor you no matter what adversity may arise. His generals, although still surprised, could not help but feel the impact of that devotion. Any doubts regarding the choice of the bride were put to rest at that moment.

Alexander proved to be a very understanding husband, although authoritarian and possessive. He doesn't like being contradicted and, although he will listen to your opinions and desires, he is unlikely to change his mind when he gets one in his head. But with the right persuasion, he will do what you want.

He will spoil you without scruple, all the best to his Queen. Although, in the beginning at least, Alexander tends to maintain a more spartan style, the same will not apply to you. You will be showered in jewels, the richest fabrics, servants and anything else you could desire. You will have whatever booty you want.

Alexander is extremely possessive and this is very evident in the way he acts around you. He's always close to you when you're together in public, the way he places his hands on your waist, a dark look at anyone who looks at you for too long. He will not tolerate potential rivals in any way.

Quality moments with him are limited to reading, riding horses, bathing together and just exchanging caresses. Alexander, although he won't admit it, enjoys being spoiled by you and will happily accept any kind of affection you are willing to give him. And he will be happy to offer the same. And massages, he loves massaging you.

Alexander is also protective, although not overly so. He will make sure that you always have an escort wherever you go and that you are always fed and happy.

Even if he takes other wives in the future for political reasons, you will always be his favorite and his first. He will always be sure to remind you that you are the one who has his heart.

If anything were to happen to you, no matter how small, all hell would break loose. Alexander can become extremely violent and cruel when necessary and he will have no qualms about killing, maiming, or torturing anyone who poses a threat to you. He will destroy cities for you, kill the men and enslave their inhabitants. All for you.

Alexander's love for you, his wife, has become legendary. He is deeply devoted to you and will do anything you ask. You hold a great deal of power over him, one that he is only too happy to allow. After all, he is as much yours as you are his.

[strawberrystepmom]

cw: overt infidelity (gojo is married to someone that is not reader), abusive relationship, physical abuse though it is not described in a graphic way. gojo x sorcerer/teacher f!reader. | word count: 3k, reading time: approx. 12 min.

As time passes, it becomes harder for you to remember the little reasons why you dumped Satoru five years ago. Distance may make your memories hazy but you’re certain that they were small, pitiful excuses you used to hide the truth from even yourself. 

You loved him as deeply as you’ve ever loved anyone but you weren’t ready for the responsibility of doing so. 

A man of his stature is only as strong as what he comes home to and you knew you’d fail him - you were emotional, unstable at the time, hard to get along with. The two of you had been through traumatic events one after the other and it left you feeling unmoored and unable to love the way you knew even then he needed to be.

You’ve never felt the need to begrudge him for moving on. It seemed only natural that he’d carry on with his life and you’d carry on with yours, slowly handing him boxes of his things from your place over months before one day you had nothing left to give and it was over. He was nothing but a blip on your radar and an indentation in your mattress that you’d eventually get rid of too.

The next day you learned about his new girlfriend, now wife. It hurt to hear about it in passing but you understood that your role as the heartbreaker left you with little entitlement to know what happened in his life and you also didn’t think anything of the lack of invitation to his wedding when it happened. Despite this, you pressed an envelope heavy with cash in his hands the following Monday at school and felt absolved of any further responsibility toward the man despite your lingering feelings.

For years, you assumed that the two of you would continue to move in divergent lines toward different lives and for a while it was true. You were able to work professionally and peacefully alongside him, unwilling to give up your beloved career as a teacher and sorcerer to save yourself from a bit of heartache. 

You saw him and his wife from time to time, the woman at his side never becoming particularly warm despite your genuine attempts to be friendly. A smile in her direction would be met with a smirk and then a frown, a smug reminder that she is the cat who got the cream rather than a woman in love with the man at her side. At some point a decision was made to be cordial enough to never raise questions but distant enough you rarely had to be around her.

Things seemed fine until the night your phone lit up and buzzed on your nightstand, clock ticking well past two in the morning. Squinting, you picked up the phone and scowled at the contact picture of a younger, far more audacious version of the man on the other end of the phone. 

“Satoru?”

Your dazed voice through the speaker was a revelation and the world rolled off his shoulders in an instant. Pacing in front of the convenience store across from your home, he watched your front door carefully with one of his hands stuffed in his pocket.

“Hi, it’s me. I know this is weird but I was in the neighborhood and wanted t-”

His voice sounded frenzied in a way you hadn’t heard in years, your anxiety spiking with each word. Something is wrong, why else would he have called you this time of night? 

“Slow down, I can hardly understand you.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping forward with the weight of it.

“Can I just come in? I’ll explain everything.”

Against your better judgment, you said yes and for months he has been coming to your door at the same time several nights a week. The first time he was kicked out for coming home later than his wife expected, his excuse of a mission more than she was willing to buy despite verifiable evidence that is exactly where he was. The second time, they argued on a date and she threw a drink on him in view of their friends unprompted, his bare chest exposed while sitting in your kitchen waiting for his shirt tumbling in the dryer. The third time, she hurled a shoe at him immediately upon entering the door for reasons he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

Now, the twentieth time, you wonder why he’s bothered to remain married to this woman at all. 

Tonight his long body rests on your couch, socked feet dangling off of the end. You kneel on the ground beside him, petting rain wet strands off of his forehead while resting your chin on his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

His eyes are closed tightly, the cerulean hidden from your view because he knows you’d be able to read him like a book otherwise, as you always have been. A shared glance between the two of you used to be a means of silent communication and ever since he rekindled this friendship, he worries it’s back to old times in that sense. He cannot connect with her the way that he does you, the same effortlessness never appearing in the way he assumed it magically would, even after three years of marriage.

“She hit me.”

You gasp, head popping up an instant and hair flying behind you. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to picture your face nor does he have to open them and use his Six Eyes to know that you are seething. Blood is rushing into your cheeks and your hands shake where they gingerly brush his hair away. 

“What do you mean?” Scoffing, you press your shaky fingers against his cheeks. “How?”

He laughs and in an instant, you feel terrible for questioning what has happened to him. You know this relationship is and always has been difficult, the grittiest of the details dropped off at your door so he can return home to her with an apology before the sun rises, but you never assumed she would go this far to prove her point or get her way.

“Satoru,” you start and he stops you, shaking his head and finally opening his eyes. They’re as dazzling as they are every time you are given the privilege of looking into them but he can’t chase the sadness buried in them away. He reaches for where your hand rests on his face and pulls it away, kissing your knuckles the way that he used to years ago when he still believed you’d be his forever.

“It’s fine. I was late again.”

A humorless chuckle leaves you and you rise from your kneeling position to stand with your hand on your hip, letting him keep his grip on the other one in some poor attempt to comfort him. You don’t even have confirmation that you bring him comfort, an assumption because he keeps showing up and nothing more, but you hope that’s the case. It’s sick and wrong but you can’t stop yourself from loving this man as much as you did years ago, marriage aside. You vowed to let him move on but you never vowed to stop caring. 

“She doesn’t get to hit you because a mission ran late, you know that, right?”

He shrugs. 

“I guess.”

His willingness to roll over and take it is what frustrates you the most, finally pulling your hand from his grip so you can fold your arms over your chest and pace the floor in front of him. You stop in your tracks and look down at him, eyes welling with tears. The emotion of the past several months, these illicit meetings where the two of you do nothing but talk and hold each other, hits you like a brick looking down at the dazzling man in front of you crumpled into a heap on your couch.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he soothes despite his own hurt and you find it frustrating that he’s so quick to jump to comforting you just like old times. You wave him off and continue to pace, chewing on your thumb nail while thinking of the best way to handle this. He sits up with a sigh and reaches out for you, one arm wrapping around your hip and the other guiding you into his lap. 

This isn’t the first time the two of you have crossed this line so you settle in, resting against the broad expanse of his chest and looking up at him from below. Your hands once again find their home on his face, cupping his cheeks, and you sniff. 

“I’m going to hit her back,” you warn and he laughs, his hand traveling up your arm and fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I am. Harder than I’ve ever hit anyone.”

The thing about love, Satoru has discovered, is that it’s a flame that only survives as long as you’re fanning it. Some people fan their flame with gentleness and patience, sweet touches and reassurances, lazy mornings and happy memories. Others fan theirs with anger and passion, frustrated groans and distrust, venomous words and poisoned glances.

Unfortunately, he learned this after he got married and has spent every night wishing he were resting in the familiar cradle of your old mattress rather than the cold bed he tied himself to for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t want you to do that.” 

He presses his lips against your forehead and you lean into it. What’s another physical boundary broken given how far the two of you have let this thing go. He is weaker now than he ever has been, strength zapped thanks to the battles he has to fight between the walls of his own home, and yours has become his paradise as it was not so long ago. His lips press a trail from your temple to your cheek and you sigh, wishing you felt more conflicted or at least guilty about it.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, you feel it against your face rather than see it with your eyes.  

“When’s the last time you felt loved?”

The question hangs between the two of you painfully, your stomach turning at your own carelessness. He is married to a woman you’ve met, you’ve looked her in her eyes and smiled in her face, yet all you can see when you think about her is a person who has deeply hurt someone you love. Your someone. The someone you selflessly gave up to allow her the chance to meet him, a decision you’ve regretted often.

You can’t change your past but maybe you can convince him that he deserves a better future.

“Last night when I was here.”

You start to laugh but stop yourself looking at the softness in his face. This is surrender, something you’ve never asked him to give to you in all the years you’ve known each other, and he’s rewarding you by handing it over freely and of his own accord. 

“I mean that. I can’t remember the last time I was happy before the night I called you.”

Bottom lip quivering, you look away from him. You don’t want to show him the emotion on your face, keeping your cards close to your chest after all these years, but he lifts his hand to your face and tips it in his direction anyway. He scans your features and looks for any hint of regret. 

He doesn’t find it and continues to speak his mind, unafraid of consequences for the first time in years.

“I love you.”

Your quivering lip turns into full blown waterworks looking at him, tears carving a path down your face and dripping onto your chest. He loves you and hasn’t stopped since the last time he told you, the night you let him go. His lips go back to work on your face, kissing over each tear that falls before it can drip off of your chin and onto your shirt.

“It’s horrible but every time I look at her all I can think of is how she means nothing to me and how little she is compared to you.” He mutters with his lips still pressed to your cheek. You aren’t actively crying any longer, cheeks warm beneath his lips, but he knows you’re on the edge judging by your breathing. “I’m a terrible husband.”

Shaking your head, you shift your face enough so that you can look into his eyes.

“You are not, babe.” The old nickname slips before you can stop it and he smirks, the twinkle you didn’t see in his eyes earlier returning now that his old flame is no longer a single light in the darkness but a full blown forest fire razing his life. “She has never given you the chance to be your best.”

He wishes he disagreed despite how he’s convinced himself over the years he deserves what has been happening to him. The screaming, the arguments and accusations, the instability, it’s all because of his own ability to be good to his wife. To give her what she wants, which truthfully, he has no idea what she wants besides a subservient punching bag.

“You would have given me that chance, wouldn’t you?”

The question makes you sigh and you close the gap between your face, pressing your lips to his to break yet another physical boundary. He’s starved for the contact, quickly enveloping your lips with his own and groaning. He’s too greedy to tell you to stop, arm wrapped around your waist holding you tightly and his disappointment is evident when you place your hand on his chest and stop him. 

“In some terrible way, I think I already am.”

It’s true and both of you would be liars if you argued it. You may not be sleeping together, not yet, but he comes to you for the things he should be getting from his wife. Compassion, patience, confidence boosts, the things he can’t recall receiving from her once yet he finds bountifully within the four walls of your home.

“What should I do?” He finally asks, grip strong around your waist. You let your head loll against his shoulder, catching your breath and trying to think of the most reasonable way to handle this.

Selfishly, you want to tell him to run. To file papers tomorrow and move in with you here despite how everyone would gawk and talk, the way your colleagues would speculate and gossip. You’re certain she already has an inkling he’s here every night, the steely look she leveled your direction a few weeks ago across the room at a small dinner gathering for the sorcerers making you head out of the event in near record time. He ended up at your house that same night, head in his hands wondering what he possibly could have done to make her angry.

Choosing your words carefully seems like the less reckless option so you do.

“What do you want to do?”

Despite your very intentional word choice, you hope his answer will be the one you’re looking for and that he will ask you for help. Being his safe haven is a job you’ve always taken seriously and now more than ever you know he needs it.

“I don’t know. I think I need some time to decide.”

It’s disappointing that he hasn’t made his mind up yet but you understand. It’s never easy to walk away from something you promised your lifelong effort toward, not unlike this life of sorcery the two of you share, so you simply keep your head against his chest and wait for him to keep speaking rather than breaking the silence yourself.

“If I decide to leave, I won’t tell her about any of this.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Satoru. I made this decision too and she has a right to know unless you plan on never speaking to me again after.”

He laughs, genuinely. You can’t remember the last time you heard his cackle like this and you smile. He kisses you again.

“No. If I leave this is where I want to be.”

You don’t speak it, but the if makes you wonder how serious he is about the whole thing. It doesn’t matter though, you suppose, the hour ticking far past 3 am and stretching into 4 when you let him kiss you again. And again. And this time with tongue, with hands, with frenzy and need. The sun is about to rise by the time he stops, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling once again, and he digs his phone out of his pocket with a groan.

Looking at the missed call notifications, all from his wife, he rolls his eyes and swipes to dismiss them. You feel smug, not unlike her every time she has spotted you from across the room, but you remind yourself to be better than this woman who has shoved Satoru back into your arms.

“I have some shit I have to take care of but I’ll text you later, okay?”

You nod, sliding off of his lap and watching him stand up to adjust his clothing. His shirt is wrinkled and he hasn’t slept but he looks no different than he did upon his arrival, no trace of what transpired here tonight left behind on him.

“Okay.” 

You finally respond and he kneels in front of where you sit, holding your hands. It isn’t hard for him to catch on that you are apprehensive, uncertain about where you truly stand in all of this, so he does his best to reassure you.

“This is where I want to be.”

As he stands again, but not before pressing a pair of kisses to your forehead and the tip of your nose, all you can do is assume that he means it. 

He’s never lied to you before, why would he start now?

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Chapter 3

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Stabbing, Azriel unalives somebody that really had it coming, Death by being put on fire

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

*If you keep glaring at Keir like that we are never getting anywhere,* Rhys said into his mind, some amusement bleeding into his voice. 

*I think he’s trying to waste your time on purpose,* Azriel responded with a scowl. 

 The shadows hadn’t picked up anything out of the usual…but that didn’t mean anything…even Keir could manage to hide something if he really wanted to…and he did want to, Azriel thought. 

He wasn’t sure yet what…but there was something. There must be something. 

This meeting was utterly useless, was slowly turning into needless sniping at each other and Azriel didn’t like it…it felt like Keir was just trying to keep them in place for longer. 

The question was just for what? 

It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up like a cat…the feeling that something…something was…not quite right, that he couldn't put his finger on…

He hated that feeling. Azriel much preferred it, when he got all the facts… when he could make plans and plans for his plans…

But he couldn’t…and he was still stuck with being in the Hewn City and not in Velaris.

*Cassian is thinking the same,* Rhys responded with a sigh. *We’ll give it another hour. Don’t worry, we'll be back in Velaris soon enough,* he teased Azriel lightly. Rhys must have caught one of his thoughts. *Give Feyre some time and then you can go get your girl.*

An easy promise given. 

*Not my girl,* Azriel gave back immediately. *Not yet. Not…* Not until she wanted to be. Not until she knew the truth and…

*She won’t turn you down, Az,* Rhys said quietly, sussing out what was really bothering him immediately. 

But what if she did? Eira had every reason in the book to turn him down. Starting with his ill-thought-out pursuit of her actual twin sister to the simple fact of who he was…

She had every reason to tell him to fuck off to the continent because she never wanted to see him again. Granted, he highly doubted she would do that…he had never heard as much as a curse word out of her mouth. 

She had been raised as the daughter of a wealthy merchant, and clearly, that’s how she carried herself, even after everything had happened. 

At least she had clung to that bit of her human life.

*She has every reason to,* Azriel disagreed quietly.  Every reason to turn him down. Regardless of what he wished for…every reason not to be interested. 

What if she wanted to cling to even more of her human life? If the wings that he sprouted from his back were a step too far for her…if the scars that marred his hands were…

Or what if she simply didn’t want him? That would be a valid choice too and he would accept that. 

Of course, he would. 

He never wanted to force her into anything that she didn’t want. 

So what if she hated him? 

*She won't and she doesn't,* Rhys disagreed sharply. *Azriel, Mor was right,” his brother told him pointedly. “Eira has been having a crush on you for years. She’ll probably be ecstatic and immediately start planning your wedding…Maybe Elain can lend her all her wedding binders,” Rhys teased him. 

He bit back a smile at that. Maybe…maybe… He wished for that. He wished that would be…

Whatever she wanted. She wanted a big wedding? He would suffer through that, just for the chance of seeing her happy. Just for her smiling at him…not as painfully polite as she had been last evening but bright and happy and unbridled…He wanted to see that. 

He wanted to see all of that. 

But he pushed that thought away.  

*I am intrigued and terrified by what is actually in these binders,* Azriel admitted drily. *Even you didn’t have that many when you were planning Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony.*

*Helion is overcompensating,* Rhys quipped, though they both knew that it probably was the truth. 

After everything had gone down in Autumn, ending with a dead Beron, High Lord Eris and Lucien Vanserra officially becoming Lucien Spell-Cleaver…well.

*I owe you an apology,* Rhys said at that moment, and Azriel stared at his brother, who was listening to Keir with a bored expression on his face. *I did only want…the best for you that solstice but how I went around it…that wasn’t particularly nice to you.*

*Actually I owe you my gratitude,* Azriel said drily. *I didn’t want to hear it then…but I was…I wasn’t in love with Elain. I was…infatuated,* he admitted. *I was jealous of you and Cassian and that…that clouded my judgement. It could have ended very badly if you didn’t intervene.*

Very badly. A Blood Duel would have been their smallest problem then. 

*It could have,* Rhys agreed. *That’s why I interfered in the first place…But I still hurt you in that moment, and I wish I hadn’t.*

*If I keep behaving like an idiot you have my full permission to call me out on it,* Azriel gave back with a sigh. 

*Then stop thinking like you don’t deserve her,* Rhys said with a mental eye roll. 

*Sure, I’ll stop once you stop thinking the same about Feyre,* he shot back. Rhys would have retorted, but he was beaten to it. 

The shadows came suddenly, in a frenzy whispering in his ear, voices hurried and panicking: Master, Master you need to come NOW!

*What’s wrong?* Rhys demanded, just as that dormant bond in his chest was flooded with pure, undiluted terror.  

The Princeling and our Mate! 

*Eira and Nyx,* he choked out. The shadows already grasped him, before Rhys’ mental order could fully reach him.  

*GO!*

They dragged him out of Hewn City, into Velaris.

The ground he hit was scorched. 

That was the first thing he realised. 

Magic crackled in the air, thick and furious, untrained and uncontrolled…that was the second. 

Nyx had one specific playground he loved…one where Azriel knew members of their family often brought him to…with swings that he adored…

It was a place of happiness…of children laughing…of Velaris at its best…

Now…now it was a scorched wasteland. 

The swings? Gone. The smell of burning human flesh in the air, making his stomach twist, eyes tracking over the carnage. 

At least two dead…difficult to say because their bodies were burned…beyond recognition.

One more dead…mouth open in a silent scream…  One…one male held by his shadows, bearing him down onto the ground…and then, right in the middle of that carnage… in a heap on the ground…

The high-pitched crying of Nyx reached his ears, covered by the unmoving body of Eira. 

Azriel had thought that panic had been burned out of him centuries ago. He was taught something better that morning. Because it was panic that flooded his veins. Panic and Terror and…a thousand other things. 

*I need Mor! And Madja!* he snapped along the mental connection to Rhys, already hurling for both of them…sliding onto his knees as he so very carefully touched Eira’s body, feeling the delicate bones underneath his fingertips, a near unseen tremble, the smell of acrid blood clinging to her, layering over her scent. 

She had always smelled like snowdrops to him. Snowdrops and almonds and a crackling hearth. 

Now the blood…the blood…He turned her around, getting no reaction, finding Nyx safe and sound tucked underneath her, crying, his little face red and splotchy as he sobbed. 

*AZRIEL!?* Rhys demanded. 

*Nyx is fine. Not a scratch.* 

All he managed…as he finally saw the scarlet red dripping down onto Nyx…smeared all over him…and then he saw the handle of that dagger protruding from Eira’s limp form. 

Blood. Her blood. 

“Ra! Ra! Ra!” Nyx gargled, just as he finally managed to slap a patch of his killing power around that knife, keeping it steady. He didn’t pull it out, knowing that that could kill her…even when the blood that oozed out around it was starkly black in places…and he could smell the scent of…something burning in the back of his throat. 

Poison. That knife had been poisoned. 

A curse left his mouth at that. 

That wasn't good. That was everything but good. 

*Eira?* Rhys demanded at that moment. 

*Stabbed.*

The connection went silent, just as the booming sound of Morrigan winnowing went in beside him. 

“Az?”

“She needs Madja. Now,” he bit out. “Take them both.”

Safe. Safe. 

He needed her safe. And then he needed…

He leaned down, picking up one limp hand and pressing a kiss against it, her skin clammy and grey…even when he could feel her pulse thrumming underneath the thin skin on the back of her wrist... He breathed in snowdrops and almonds and sweetness...and then let go, because if he didn't...he never would. He would lie right down next to her, waiting for his demise. 

He grasped Truthteller without even thinking about it, as he stalked across the ground towards the one sole survivor. The shadows jerked him up, and Azriel grabbed hold of his throat. 

“What. Did. You. Do?!” he growled. What had they done to Eira?  To his mate?

“I…we…just the Prince…Grab the Prince. No matter the cost,” the male garbled out, the acrid smell of urine hitting his nostrils and only now Azriel took in the black uniform. 

Darkbringer. 

Court of Nightmares. Keir. 

Suddenly… it all made sense. It came together. The secret Keir had been keeping. It was so clear now. 

“Who hired you?!” Azriel spat out, wanting a verbal answer before…before... 

“The Steward!” 

And that’s all he needed to hear, before he drove Truthteller into him, into the exact same place where they had stabbed Eira…not immediately killing him, but seeing his eyes widen, seeing the realisation set in….the pained scream escaping him. 

“She’s mine,” Azriel whispered. “Mine. And you hurt her. You hunted her.” Like a game. Like an animal. 

She was his. His mate. 

And Azriel hadn’t been there to protect her.  He hadn’t been there for any of this…

“Lightning,” the male choked, blood bubbling on his lips. *She…killed…lightning.”

He didn't care what the male told him. It didn't matter. None of this mattered. 

The only thing that mattered was her. 

He watched as the light dimmed in his eyes, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction that he at least had gotten to do this. At least…

*It was Keir,* Rhys said into his mind, his voice deathly quiet.  *He…He ordered…*

*He wanted Nyx,*  Azriel agreed, pulling Truthteller out of the body, letting the male fall to the ground, wiping the blade on his trousers. 

*How many did you kill?* Rhys asked. No judgment. He could have slaughtered three dozen and Rhys wouldn’t have cared at that moment. 

*One.*

He could feel Rhys’ surprise. Then: *He said he sent 4.*

*Two were burned beyond recognition,* Azriel explained. *Another is dead, but still recognisable. I do not know how he died. The whole ground is charred. Scorched.*

A second later…Rhys and Cassian appeared, winnowing in from Hewn City. He imagined that Feyre had gone straight to their son.  Cassian took one look around at the ground, the carnage…the…

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Mor took Nyx and Eira?” he asked and Azriel forced a nod, feeling for that golden thread bound around his rib…wished he would get something, anything from her…

“She shielded him with her body,” he said nearly tonelessly. “He was smeared in her blood because she shielded him.”

Even stabbed, even feeling like she was going to die…Eira had done everything to shield her nephew. Had used her own body to keep him safe. Had protected him with her life. 

Azriel had never doubted that she loved him…but it still…she must not have even hesitated. Just done it.

She was a slip of a girl, with no combat training…and she had faced four of the Court of Nightmare's most elite soldiers and laid down her life if that meant that Nyx would be safe. 

He had seen grown Illyrian Warriors that would have tucked tails and run in this situation. 

Outnumbered…Outpowered. And still, she had stood her ground. 

“What happened here?” Cassian asked as he checked the other recognisable body. 

“They must have surprised her,” Rhys said, his voice shaking. “She thought they were safe. We thought they were safe…”

And they hadn’t been. They hadn’t been safe. 

At all. 

Death had been brought right to their doorstep in Velaris. 

“How did he die?” Rhys demanded from Cassian. 

“He was struck by lightning,” Cassian responded drily. “I have seen this before…on a cow though. It would also explain the scorched ground. If lightning hits the ground, it makes a pattern like that.”

What?

Lightning?

He looked up to the sky. It was a beautiful summer’s day. Not a trace of a storm…anywhere. 

“Do you think it was Nyx?” Cassian asked quietly but Rhys shook his head. 

“I have never seen anybody channel lightning,” Rhys answered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Never. I…” Neither had Azriel.  “He’s too young to channel magic like that.”

But was he? In a situation like that? When he had just tried to protect Eira? and himself? Maybe even at 1-year-old Nyx had recognised what…what would happen if he didn’t protect himself. Maybe it had been pure instinct on his part…Maybe he had seen Eira fall and that had been…

Eira. 

He reached for that bond again, feeling it tremble and he hung onto it with all his might, clenching his teeth. 

He…

He had failed her, hadn’t he? It should have never come that far. It should have never…It should have never…

Azriel should have been the one taking that knife to the chest, not her. 

“Clearly not,” Cassian disagreed with a snort. “He’s your son,” Cassian pointed out drily. “He’s Feyre’s son…who knows what he has inherited from her.”

Rhys stayed rooted in one spot, blinking once. 

“Rhys?” Cassian asked immediately. 

“Get Nesta,” he ordered Cassian. “We are needed at the River House.” And then after a second that felt like eternity…“It’s not…It’s not looking good.”

And with one sentence…everything crumbled. 

[peppermintquartz]

I'm feeling bitchily critical today so. Let's get critical.

Reasons why Season 8 of 911 (so far) sucks:

Bobby and Athena are aimless

They have no house. The logical development is for them to look for one, one for their future. That is theirs. Where are the house hunting woes? The disageeements and compromises? Are they ever going to have a chance to find a place they both love? Or build one, even?

Athena's job description is all over the place

She's giving school talks. She's conducting traffic stops. She's escorting a prisoner across state lines. She is mentoring new officers. She's a goddamn Sergeant but what is her job scope? Every single thing requiring the presence of police, apparently!

Hen and Karen have little direction for growth

The Mara adoption issue could have brought out more of their relationship, developed them in terms of relying on each other through a difficult time. The storyline with Ortiz could have really delved into the struggles of the foster care system, and how Hen and Karen broke rules designed to protect the kids. (Seriously, if a child is removed from a foster family, it's logical not allowing the foster parents to meet the child that was removed for the safety of the child). Where was the appeal to Ortiz as a mother? Where was the struggle? Where is the tension between the Wilsons and the Hans? Instead there was a Deux Ex Gerrard. And I am not even gonna start on the whole "why didn't you take leave for Halloween" shit, that stuff should have been settled when Denny was a baby. What are their next steps? Same old same old?

Gerrard is a joke

An established bigot and racist returns. He could have been a great way to show how the 118 has grown beyond him and his bullying. Instead they're cowed by him, and lets him yell at Buck? Whatever happened to the "who cares" courage in Season 7? And he gets the reward of his dream job?

Eddie is still not healed

He emotionally cheated on his girlfriend with his dead wife's doppelganger. Has he even processed what that actually means? No! His son moved to Texas. Has he coped with the loneliness in his house? Who knows? Certainly not the audience, since we don't see him go to therapy or, hell, have a full breakdown! He confides in people who aren't his friends, let alone his so-called best friend! Bobby gave him a prayer book but we don't even hear Eddie rage at a God who keeps putting devastation and challenges in his way. What wa the point of the prayer book then? He just danced in his underwear and somehow that made him smile and now he's moving across the country and, what, giving up on his home and his job? Is that really healing, Edmundo Díaz? Or are you just running from the problem again?

Chimney has no internal or external motivation

He was providing for Mara for a few months. Was he stressed about it? Did he think about seeking a promotion for a higher salary? Also, he is an immigrant. Does that influence how he teaches Jee? Has he and Maddie, white suburban raised Maddie, ever discussed the potential problems Jee might face? Or whether they wanna include some Korean culture in Jee's education, since they gave her a Korean name? Does he ever think about any of these issues? Is he at all conflicted? What does Chimney want?

Maddie

She was the one who wanted to meet Tommy. Has she done so outside of the wedding? What was her opinion of him? Is Maddie content to stay in Dispatch in the exact same position? Has she any career ambition? And about Jee: does she never think about the Korean part of Jee? Connecting to her own culture? Learning Korean, maybe? That would have been interesting because perhaps she wants her daughter to connect to that part of her roots but Chimney doesn't, for his own reasons. Also, if she wants to have a second kid, why didn't she discuss it with Chimney outright before the pregnancy? Was she not taking the pill? Were they careless again? What would she do if Chimney didn't want a second child? Abort? Given how the first pregnancy was traumatic for the whole family, including her brother, this development is showing her to be pretty self-centered, frankly. I don't know this Maddie. She's not the same one that gave Buck her Jeep to escape, knowing that she'll be hurt by an abusive husband.

Brad

Why is airtime devoted to a character that is barely connected to the 118? What is the reason behind giving him so much focus? Is he supposed to quit acting and become a firefighter or something? What is the rationale for his existence?

.

.

And I haven't even touched on Buck or Tommy.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

You Will Stop the Wedding! - Jamil Viper

SUMMARY: YOU were the one being kidnapped by Princess Eliza to marry her. How would he react and how would he save you? With the aggravation of he already having a crush on you.

CHARACTERS: Jamil Viper x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Declaration

WORD COUNT: 1.260 words

Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia

Rescuing You - Deuce Spade; Jack Howl; Floyd Leech; Kalim Al-Asim

COMMENTS: What have I done? Why did I commit to writing this? And why did I write so much? Why was I so inspired? There were seven of them! Why do I do this to myself? So yeah, this took me a long time. But I hope it was worth it, for me and for you.

CONTEXT: Someone was kidnapped to marry some ghost princess and might end up turning into a ghost too. And they just found out that someone was you.

Jamil was not present at the Housewarden's meeting, since he isn't one. But it didn't take long for Kalim to tell him, especially because he was panicking. He starts saying loose sentences about ghosts, kidnapping, marriage and especially your name. Jamil gets very serious and asks Kalim to stop for a few seconds, calm down a little and explain things clearly. And if that doesn't work, he has a plan B: ask one of the other Housewardens. Riddle would be an excellent choice.

After fully understanding what is happening, he himself panics for a moment. But then he clears his throat and calms himself down. He asks, no, he orders Kalim to stay safe in Scarabia while he joins the others in the rescue groups. When Kalim tries to convince Jamil to let him help them, Jamil gets straight to the point and says it's dangerous, both for him and for you. Does he really want to risk ruining everything? It's your life that's at stake here! Jamil was being harsher than usual, but Kalim knew why, and promised that he would stay in Scarabia hoping that everything would go well. He would behave well for Jamil and for you.

However Jamil is too cautious to simply believe him. So most likely, without Kalim noticing, Jamil will put him to sleep or something with some spell or with his Snake Wisper. You know, just in case.

Jamil asked to be in the last group. A little like Azul, he is the type to first analyse all angles of the situation before forming a more appropriate plan.

When it's the last group's turn, whenever someone needs to stay behind to tie up the ghosts, Jamil tells one of the others to do it. He always managed to show himself as a good strategist and someone who conveys the confidence of a leader, so the others just followed this order without questioning much. His behavior showed that he seemed to have a plan in place. He ends up being the only one to arrive at the ceremony hall.

He could follow the plan, but he knew himself well in this regard. He is good at hiding his true feelings, but he is not good at showing feelings that are antagonistic to his true ones. The princess would definitely notice this as she noticed some of the others' strategies. For these reasons he had a plan B, but still wanted to try the original plan.

“Your majesty, you must stop this wedding. You are taking with you someone who doesn't want to be with you. If you don't marry someone who loves you back, both of your lives... afterlives? will be miserable. And that's why I'm here. Please accept me as your husband and I promise to do everything in my power to make your afterlife wonderful.” Everything was going well, until he proposed to be her husband.

The princess said out loud the same thing that you also noticed. In these sentences his emotion almost disappeared, showing that he was lying. And she accused him of trying to deceive her.

Jamil sighed. He was now forced to follow plan B, which he never really likes to follow: Be honest. “You are correct, your majesty. I was lying. But-” Before he could continue speaking the princess ordered the guards to catch him. And he had a plan for that too.

He managed to dodge all the ghost guards and was heading towards the altar where you and the princess were. But one thing wasn't part of his plan: One of the guards turning into a giant ghost. Obviously he still tried to fight and did his best, but he still lost against the guard. As soon as the guard caught him, the princess wasted no time in slapping him, she didn't want to hear his excuses.

However, Jamil remained able to move. Everyone gasps, including the princess. When the guards ask what's going on, the princess says it can only mean one thing. The thing is that her slap is capable of petrifying anyone, except those who have already found their true love. The reaction from all NRC students is like "What the F-?!" And Jamil’s reaction was to lower his head to try to make his hair hide his face.

Then he lifted it again, with an upset and slightly obscured expression on his face. He really hated exposing himself like that, but at that moment, it was his last shot to save you. “Do you want the truth? I'm here for someone, yes, but not for you. I'm here for the person you kidnapped to force to be your partner.” She starts to say that she didn't kidnap or force anyone. “Your delusion disgusts me.” The guard shakes him, threatening him not to insult the princess.

But now the princess is interested. He was there for you? So why did he ask to marry her? “Because we had a plan.” Jamil admits, as if he's had enough and just wants to resolve everything once and for all. “Making you accept one of us as a husband to put a ring on your finger that would send you to the afterlife.” The princess is offended and feels attacked by that. And while she and the guard start to say how outrageous that is, Jamil looks at the princess again, but this time with a condescending look.

“If you're going to take someone with you, take me then. Let (Y/N) go. Let me go in their place. From a young age I learned that part of my job would be to be willing to give my life for someone. Let me give my life for someone I lo... care about, then.” He couldn't fake something like this that well.

And, out of nowhere, the princess started to feel sorry for herself and jealous of you. Having someone willing to give their life for you like that. This was the greatest proof of love anyone could give. How she wished she had someone like that for herself too. And this was the opportunity that the guard who was in love with her found to declare himself and say that he would give his life for her, after all, technically, he had already done so. And that whole ending of the princess realizing that she loved him too happens, they get married and happily ever after.

As soon as the guard releases Jamil, he runs to you. “Are you well? Are you hurt?” You were petrified, but shortly afterwards you could move again. Jamil never left your side until the ghosts left.

After everything and while the first-years were getting ready to tidy up and clean the cafeteria, you asked Jamil to wait a bit. You leave the room so you can talk alone. He couldn't look at you, and he was trying to hide his face with his hands or his hair. He had practically already declared himself to you during all that madness. So you decide it's your turn to tell him that you feel the same way about him. He looks at you in surprise and you can see how flattered he was.

Knowing now that your feelings were mutual, he becomes kind of smug. “Does that mean you would give your life for me too? That you would serve me if necessary? *chuckle* Don't worry, I'm just messing with you. Unless you don't mind.” You say you would at least kiss him right there and then if that's what he wants. He holds you by the waist. “Be my guest.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to (or at least should) suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. As the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop....

...after this he drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Or, for the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. For Heaven. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And so for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3 (to I assume) even out the scores. Or... to deserve Crowley. Some people also want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he has (so thoughtlessly) done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book, my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I...did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating as well, and by furiously (but quietly) trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel I get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck (Crowley's 'What's the point of it all' at the beginning of S2). I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, but I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying from then on.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spend the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. What happened to him. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink and cry, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen now.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? And why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought will happen if he survives this), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale? About his sadness?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. First of all, he was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they both BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress like Crowley does. He will learn to be more open, I'm sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, not at all. But asking how I am can only end up in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid, unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do). I think...this would probably work not just for someone who is grieving but also for someone who you know is dealing with depression for example or a serious illness etc. Edit 2. It's now almost (in 15 days) a year since my brother died. The random attacks of pain and grief have lessened and I have started to do more of the things I enjoyed before... and I am able to answer how are you questions without feeling like they are trying to mock me (the questions, not the people). So I suppose things do get ... lighter? More diffused? I'm not sure. Because it's still exactly as unfair that my brother has not lived this past year as it will be however many years I will be here without him I expect.

[reallyromealone]

Title: fae love

Fandom: none

Characters: original character (orc), reader

Fic type: nsfw, story

Pairings: orc x male reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, nsfw, smut, reader has some description, boy pussy term used, reader is a fae, chaotic reader

Notes: I thought I posted this but I didn't, this is super indulgent, and yeah. Normally this would go through Patreon first but I'm feeling kind

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

(name) smiled as he was carried by the giant orc that was his mate, a towering ten feet tall to (name) 's five feet four inches, the pretty fae kissing the orc's olive cheek sweetly as they went back to their farm, a sweet little farm in the woods outside of town "I told you no more fires in non agreed fireplaces" he said gruffly to (name) who just smiled "you're the one who chose to become fated mates with me~"

The Orc sighed, looking at the gold ring on (name) 's finger and the wedding necklace, indeed he chose (name) for marriage, he did love his chaotic husband.

(Name) often treated his husband like a jungle gym, the tiny fae usually resting on his shoulder as he went about things and used his magic for various tasks "My love, please... You're awful at cooking" he swatted (name)s hand away when (name) tried to help by adding flower petals to the stew "but they make the stew look magical ~!" Was (name) 's reasoning as he watched the other stir the rabbit and vegetable soup "I added extra (vegetable), magical enough?" The orc gently kissed the other calf, tusks grazing (name) 's flesh, and (name) giggled "You romantic~"

(Name) always sat in his husband's lap when they ate and spoke about their days, (name) in the woods building little homes for the mouse village as they wanted to expand--- thankfully their building supplies were primarily popsicle sticks, the Orc gladly letting his love do that, especially since the mouse folk traded for mushrooms and herbs they find, it also kept (name) from causing mischief amongst the fae wilds, the two living outside the fae wild portal ring and often seeing passerbys that (name) would prank (read: setting their shoes on fire).

It was always a serene affair.

Well for (name).

When bedtime came, (name) carefully took off his jewelry as did his husband, removing any makeup for the night against the candlelight "Oh..." (Name) whispered as he felt his love's large hards easily spread his legs, rubbing the inside of his thighs "been energetic these days, causing problems..." The orc said as (name) leaned into his broad chest and felt the other large cock against his ass "Have no output for this energy..." (Name) said back breathlessly as he already imagined the sweet stretch of the other cock "need something... Big to help me relax" he cooed and grinned impishly when his large husband tossed him on the giant bed, something they invested in long ago.

The orc pulled down his pants, large girthy cock erect and heavy, a deep red tip that slowly turned green "pretty.." fourteen inches that (name) couldn't help but feel giddy as he crawled to the other and gently took the others cock in his hands, kissing the tip sweetly as he stroked the shaft with both hands, taking the tip into his mouth as he gently placed his hands on his abdomen and a womb tattoo appeared, already using magic to keep his body intact so the other could fill him fully, essentially an infinity spell to not kill him.

The taste of pre-cum made (name) hazy, fae pre-cum and the likes were aphrodisiacs, (name) 's eyes heavy as the effects of the tattoo began "Gonna take me well... Always do" the orc grumbled as he watched (name) stroke him off and trying to take him but sadly he just couldn't fit him in, not without using magic to warp his body.

And last time that happened it was horrific when he let (name) do the magic using.

Jaw unhinging and face distorting...the poor orc couldn't look at his husband the same for a week.

"Lemme see that ass" (name) let himself be manhandled into his husband's hold, upside down as he held onto the other cock while being held in the air, letting out a shaky breath when he felt his loves tongue lick from his balls to his ass and circling his hot tongue around the rim as (name) shakily stroked the orcs cock as his husband's long tongue went down to curl around (name)s cock, average in size but tiny to the massive orc who felt the aphrodisiac affects himself as his large fingers pushed into (name)s ass.

(Name) Whined and moaned as he felt himself fall apart, clinging onto the other's cock like a lifeline as his ass was finger fucked and his cock licked methodically "Please... Need it..." He needed that itch scratched, yelping when his husband smacked his ass "Behave" the other grunted as his tusks scraped (name)s lower ass cheeks.

(Name) Was manhandled onto his back, for a moment he felt giddy thinking he was getting the other big cock but let out a loud cry as his husband's index middle and ring finger fucked his ass aggressively, veins showing up on the orc's arms as he fucked as hard as he could against (name)s prostate as (name) climaxed hard but the other continued fucking through his climax, watching intensely.

He could barely muster words, the two having a safe word as their sessions got... Intense so the mewls of "stop" and "I can't!" Fell on deaf ears as the orc grinned at his lover's fucked out expression as he slowly pulled his wet fingers out "Your little ass-pussy is ready... You good there baby boy?" He asked as (name) whined "please..." (Name) Begged as he let his husband kiss him slowly, lining his giant cock to (name)s poor entrance and pushing in, shushing his whined at the sensation. no matter how many times they did it, it still stung as the orc slowly bottomed out.

"You did so good, my love" the orc soothed him as he let (name) adjust, no matter how much prep the sweet face needed to adjust for a few minutes as his body twitched helplessly "Big..." (Name) Whined as he felt his husband kiss stray tears.

The two stayed like this for a few moments before (name) gave the ok and the other slowly began thrusting, pushing out to the tip and pushing in, with each thrust he slowly picked up speed. "Oh! Fuck!" (Name) Gasped as he felt the other's balls slap against his ass, hips bruising as he was fucked like a doll.

"More!"

"Yes!"

"O-oh!"

Climaxes and moans, scratches and bites were all the things that (name) got and gave as his legs stretched with a slight burn, riding his beloved as his wings stretched out, previously hidden with magic as a harsh climax rolled through and the dust from his wings lifting them slightly "yes! Fuck me with that cock!" (Name) Scratched down the other's chest as he developed more fae features, unable to keep his magic back.

"Gonna cum in that pretty hole, take it all!" (Name) Collapsed as he was stuffed, stomach bulging as his husband filled his belly with cum.

"There... Keep you from setting trees on fire for a few days..."

[raplinesmoon]

Right Person, Wrong Place (KSJ x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: Seokjin x afab!reader

genres/au/rating: fluff, smut, some angst, road trip!au, friends2lovers, 18+

summary: This wedding was supposed to be a chance to celebrate love - even if your own for your best friend remains hidden. But what happens when there's a runaway groom, sending you and Seokjin on a journey together through the South of France? Will your feelings stay on the backburner, or will they all come spilling out?

word count: 697 for the teaser

warnings (teaser only): swearing, tension between friends (oooh what could be the reason), mentions cigarettes, shady getaway car

a/n: happy Seokjin day!! no one is more miserable than I that this is all I have to present for it, but maybe this is the kick in the butt I need to finish this damn thing. This was all inspired by Seokjin's Vogue shoot, but elements of this have been in my head for years! I hope you enjoy the teaser, and hopefully the full fic comes soon hehe! also thank you to @aaagustd for the gorgeous banner!

“What do you mean, ran away?”

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose, holding back the exasperated sigh caught in his throat. If he let it out, he’d never hear the end of it.

“I mean gone. Lickety-split. Road Runner style.”

“This isn’t funny, Seokjin!”

Your voice comes out in a hiss, and if it weren’t for the way your face is absolutely redder than a tomato right now, Seokjin thinks that you might have looked beautiful, the butter yellow of your silk dress shining against your sun kissed skin.

But he’d never say it out loud of course. He’d lost that right a long time ago.

“Oh god, we’re fucked, absolutely fucked! What am I supposed to tell Minju?”

Seokjin understands your dilemma – what exactly does a maid of honor say to her best friend to tell them that her fiancé has mysteriously disappeared three days before the wedding? It doesn’t exactly have the same ring to it as “I do.”

Heels clacking against the cold marble of the villa, you storm to the open balcony, and Seokjin’s heart seizes in fear – you were right, what the hell were you supposed to do?

He’s by your side in minutes, his tux-clad figure leaning against the railing next to you. He wants to reach out, hold your hand and tell you it’ll be okay. But he remains stiff as a board, the two of you lost to your thoughts in the faint breeze of the seaside.

An idea lights up inside his mind – an absolutely insane one, but maybe if you could tolerate being around him for more than five minutes, it just might work.

At its best, it was a gamble, playing his odds for the faint chance that this wouldn’t blow up in his face. At its worst, it could mean the end of everything when it came to you.

Seokjin huffs out a breath into the cold air, and makes his decision.

“Do you trust me ___?”

This couldn’t have been it.

Staring down the old, white panel minivan, you raise an eyebrow at Seokjin, trying to stifle your giggle.

“Your grand plan, I see–” 

The tips of his ears turn red, and you watch him mutter to himself.

“Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that shady rental place when they said they said they had a Renault available…”

You think it's endearing the way he’s lost in his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet. But then again, you’ve always thought so.

“A car is a car, Jin. We have more important things to worry about.”

“I know,” he rubs at the back of his neck. “I just wanted you to get the full south of France experience, and this soccer mom monstrosity is so not it.”

Sighing, he lifts your carry-on with ease, loading it into the trunk before opening the door for you. 

Slipping inside, you wrinkle your nose at the smell of stale cigarettes and — was that bleach? There’s an ugly brown stain on your seat and you’re not sure where it came from, only that you wish it was three days later, and all of this was somehow behind you. Minji would be married, and you would stay far, far away from Kim Seokjin.

Away from the bad decisions you always seemed to make when he was around.

“Where to captain?” His signature smirk is back, face lighting up as he wrestles with the steering wheel that seems locked into place.

“I don’t know, he could be anywhere. Let’s just hope he didn’t make it to Italy. Or Monaco.”

You drum your fingers anxiously against your thigh. How many villages were in between Nice and Cannes? How long would you have to look?

As if he can sense your anxiety, Seokjin’s hand comes down to rest on yours, your face shooting up in surprise.

“We’ll find him, I promise. And we’ll be standing up there at the altar with our two best friends, this whole wedding will go off without a hitch, and we’ll have the time of our lives. I promise you that.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did.

But the past said differently.

a/n pt. 2:  As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[krysmcscience]

Don't mind me, just slacking on a big Billford comic by making other far more ridiculous Billford comics and also some AU art (please excuse my slapdash human!Bill thank you please, also before anyone asks the art style is messy and all over the place because idgaf LOL)

This started out as an excuse to design a Bill Cipher-inspired "wedding" dress, but then spiraled wildly out of control. Various rambles and a bunch more human!Bill arts under the cut, including another silly little comic at the end! (Feel free to skip the rambles, I won't be offended. I know I'm bad at shutting up. XD)

I may or may not write some comedy stuff for this AU, which I'm calling 'For Better Or Worse (But Mostly Worse)'. While Ford DOES remember getting sloshed enough for one thing to lead to making out with another after karaoke, neither he nor Bill remember this wedding, At All. The Love God did nothing to dissuade them from going hog wild on their marriage spending, either, so it got...uh. Exorbitantly Expensive. As in, the grand total could probably buy the entire fucking MOON sort of expensive. (It's fine, don't worry, Bill's good enough at crime to be able to afford it.) Also, because the logic of this AU is mostly dictated by Rule of Funny, the Love God's powers are close to unlimited when it comes to matters of romance, but ONLY when it comes to matters of romance. (Like weddings!)

Want an empty human vessel to smash the soul of a triangle into for date nights or when it's convenient, or perhaps even when it's NOT convenient? Easy peasy! Want the marriage to be recognized in every corner of the multiverse from now until the end of time, thus making any potential future divorce nigh-on impossible? Can do! Want to buy an entire beach for the ceremony and honeymoon and in general, and totally not at all because it would be Super Hilarious to prevent any specific movies from being made on that very same beach in the future? Fine, whatever, it's not his finances he's ruining!

Does the Love God also provide special rings that just so happen to turn incorporeal as long as the "happy couple" doesn't remember that they barged into his dreams to bully him into presiding over their marriage? ...No comment!

He spends the next thirty years trying and failing to get in touch with either of them for payment. This is why you should always demand half the money up front, my guy!

Also it's absolutely a traditional Jewish wedding, because I like the idea of Bill demanding all the keepsakes from the marriage that he paid for, and being completely confused when one of the things he's handed is a fancy container full of broken glass. He gets it later, but in the moment, he thinks the Love God is just fucking with him some more.

Ramble over! Here's the full dress that caused the comic to happen, along with what Ford wound up wearing at the wedding (and begrudgingly agreeing to put on again later for Reasons), aaaaand also a close-up of Bill's ring:

I may have forgotten to draw Bill's hair floofier when drawing the back of the dress, lmao

Since double ring ceremonies have been leaking over into Jewish wedding customs for a while now, Ford also has a ring, but his is the much more traditional plain gold band. There's definitely a message engraved on the inside - embarrassing, cringe, or incriminating somehow - but I haven't decided what it is yet, so use your imagination for now. XD Bill, on the other hand, saw the phrase 'traditional plain gold band' and said "No Thank You" before proceeding to embellish his ring to his liking. And because he's a secret sap who adores Ford's extra fingers, the triangle points add up to twelve, as do the engraved stars. Yes, they're stars, not dots, I just got lazy. There's also six lashes on the eye gem, and probably an eye engraving on the inside with another six lashes. (Bill's got it BAD, okay? We all know this.)

Here are the initial scribbles of Bill's custom vessel in more casual attire, please ignore the wonky anatomy and the fact that I flat out refuse to ever draw him with a proper top hat:

He does actually need a cane in this vessel; since Bill tends to possess men and especially Ford more often than not, he's used to having a higher center of gravity when in a human body, so his ability to balance is pretty garbage. (He may or may not topple over with concerning regularity.) As for his empty eye socket, his bangs don't do much to hide it since he's so high-energy (dude is constantly on the move), and he also refuses to wear a patch over it, because 1.) why bother, and 2.) it's more fun to freak people out.

To better align with Ford's attraction towards the strange, the vessel was designed with super minor shapeshifting ability - Bill can look like a perfectly normal human, but he can also make the teeth and fingers sharper whenever he likes (which is mostly just when he's angry or being more of a menace than usual), as well as slit down the pupils or outright ditch the irises altogether. He can also have whatever he wants in the downstairs department, just because I'm an indecisive bitch on that front, lmao. Maybe he can have boobs if he wants them, too, but I ain't drawin' tits on no triangle, nuh-uh, no sir. His powers are otherwise limited down to what humans can do, because for some reason, the Love God doesn't trust Bill to not snap into Immediate Apocalypse Mode if he's given a physical form that's actually all his and no one else's.

Due to the body being all his and no one else's, it's also not really a standard possession so much as it is just...Bill being temporarily human. He's a lot more aware of and in tune with his human body's senses than he ever was with his "puppets", which makes things like pain a lot more intense. (He is mostly fine with this, because he's a fukken masochist.)

A bit more fashion stuff, including beach and party attire~

The beach outfit was mostly me trying and failing to nail down his body shape, which is still not bottom-heavy enough. I then decided to slap a bikini on it, before making it supremely unsexy with a pair of fugly shorts, because Bill's fashion choices are not allowed to be conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, the party outfit was mostly me looking at the casual attire I designed, asking 'how would Bill make this Worse', and then drawing the result. The mismatched thigh-highs are killing me inside! :D

No, his vessel can't actually summon fire, I just drew it for funzies before I decided on said vessel's limitations. Yes, the gold brick tattoos are absolutely a reference to the fic 'Knowing Me, Knowing You' - I simply could not resist.

I also HAD to draw Bill in one of his canonical(?) shirts, just made tank-top'd:

He is absolutely about to over-correct and fall backwards after this. USE YOUR CANE, GOOFBALL!!! (I meant to draw Bill closer to this degree of bottom-heavy in the other images, but. Alas. I am bad at anatomy, LOL)

And, last but not least before More Comic Time, I attempted to draw him closer to Gravity Falls style:

Jury's out on whether or not I succeeded, but - hey. I tried. Now have some Handyman Bill AU, but with my goofy human design, instead:

Hey, it's a 'mystery snack', and the guy wanted A BITE to eat - the joke was right there, guys!!! (Based on this post, because it just screamed BILL CIPHER to me.)

whoops i forgor bills ring and cracks ahaha too late now

I WILL SHUT UP AND STOP RAMBLING NOW K THX BYYYYYE