#and it’s debatable how much ‘in love’ actually means ‘got possessed by and fell into hell with him and became so entwined soul-to-grace that

[quietwingsinthesky]

anyway fucked up samifer time travel au where post-cage, in love with Lucifer but cannot reach him because he’s in Hell Sam gets sent back in time and guides his past self into opening the Cage again, so that past him and past Lucifer can be united.

[soleilnomoon]

5.5k words, afab reader, a little angst, miscommunication, nsfw (it's toji, c'mon) - spanking, (slight) degradation kink, oral, other stuff i guess.

a summary (of sorts): toji is a mean bitch when he's jealous idk what to tell u. sequel to this.

prompt // “don’t tempt me.”

fic request for @strawhatsoraya; bb ily, this was pure possession *washes hands* a labor of love, if u will previous ⤹ | next ⤹

it’s been three weeks and he hasn’t called you. honestly, you should’ve seen it coming, should’ve known you were setting yourself up for failure when you exchanged phone numbers with him—but you weren’t thinking correctly at the time. and how could you? he fucked you senseless, all of your logic leaping out the window the moment you got in his car. you didn’t dare spend the night, instead you insisted on going home because you had an early shift the next day. it’s a lie you’ll regret later on. you’re not sure why you even care, really. he talks to you roughly, disregards your personal space, and would rather die than admit to wanting anything remotely intimate with you. 

still, you stare at your phone, helpless as your mind reminds you over and over that he’s not the sort of man who calls back—but that he can’t even be bothered to text you?

absolutely absurd.

you debate on whether or not to delete him from your contacts, thumb hovering over his name, unnecessary guilt twisting your perception, making you hesitate. “whatever,” you say dejectedly, tossing the phone onto your couch and leaving it on silent. you’re off from work and all of your friends are busy, so it’s up to you to entertain yourself. your day is spent decluttering your apartment, drifting from room to room in a daze, needing to keep busy so you won’t keep checking your phone like some lovesick tween.

if your mother could see you now—she’d call you disgraceful, a whore, irredeemable. whatever.

as you continue torturing yourself mentally, he’s driving around, hoping to keep his anger to a bare minimum. you have, unknowingly, pissed him off. it’s unlike him to obsess like this—because that’s what it is, obsession. he’s not unfamiliar with it, but it makes things complicated; for example, he’s stopped frequenting the club you work at, choosing instead to go to the competing bar another block down. it’s just as shitty, just less interesting. he’ll be damned if he goes back to yours, though. it serves him right. he knew not to bring you to his place and he did it anyway against his better judgment. your innocence is an act that he fell for—and probably will continue to fall for if he doesn’t get his shit together. 

still, he didn’t peg you as a liar. until now.

when you’re tuckered out from cleaning, you pull your phone out, quickly tap on the dating app you’ve avoided for months, and reply to the last guy who kept you remotely interested. maybe going on a date will make you feel better. so you take your time to get ready—a nice, hot bath, scented body butter that makes your skin silky smooth, perfume sprayed on various parts of your body, your hair actually cooperates with you this time. you keep your makeup light, with the exception of a bold, dark red lip and a bit of shimmery highlighter—giving you the sort of ethereal glow that might make your date think you’re otherworldly.

and perhaps you are. you certainly feel that way as you strut out of your apartment in a black, long sleeve pleuche dress; it clings to your curves, almost like a second-skin. the square collar allows for your breasts to properly be on display—which is what you want. not because you actually care if your date likes it or not, but because you like to look good for yourself. you know the effect you have on people, know that part of why you make so much working in that club is because of your looks, so it’s only natural that you work it whenever you can. your heels give you a bit of height, and are surprisingly comfortable, even as you wait for a cab to come pick you up.

it’s only a twenty minute ride, but you enjoy it, taking pictures of your face and outfit to share with your friends—your mood picks up instantly, especially when you spot your date waiting for you outside of the restaurant. you didn’t expect that level of courtesy, so he gets points for that. when the cab finally stops, he helps you out of the car. you mentally keep a tally, your lips curving into a smile when you realize that maybe he might rack up more points than toji right now.

you pause, chastise yourself internally, and hope to not think about him again tonight. you don’t need to ruin any potential relationship by letting him ruin things. although, when you think about it, hasn’t that always been his intention with you? to not let other people get too close? at least, that’s what it seemed like to you, before—

“are you alright?”

the voice stirs you out of your thoughts and you give him a tight-lipped smile, hoping he doesn’t think you’re weird for zoning out like that. 

“yes,” you forget his name and panic a bit; is it bryan? no, no he looks more like an andre if anything—or is it will? you should know this. your cheeks flush and your date smiles at you, probably thinking that you’re being shy, but really it’s embarrassment. 

you catch sight of a sleek, black car that’s parked across the street; it looks oddly familiar, but you can’t remember why. oh well, maybe you’ve seen it around town or something. you turn to head inside, your date—william, you learn—is giving his name for the reservation. a vibration in your purse reminds you to turn your phone off, but when you pull it out of your clutch and see the name that’s flashing on the screen, you remain frozen, unsure of what to do.

“do you need to answer that?” william asks politely, something close to concern on his face at your rigid movements.

“oh, right, yes. i do.” the lie feels wrong, but you don’t have time for that now. “i’ll just be a minute,” you say quickly. william nods, tight, almost rehearsed, and goes to sit at the table he reserved, promising to wait for you. because you’re not sure how the phone call will go, you head outside, standing under the awning of the restaurant, off to the side where the other guests won’t interrupt you.

annoyance drips in your voice when you answer your phone. “what do you want, fushiguro?”

he doesn’t fall for it, choosing to ignore your tone as well. “where are you right now?” toji’s audacity never ceases to amaze you. how he can just ignore you for weeks and then barge into your life when you’re on a date? who the fuck does he think he is?

“i’m home,” you lie easily, not wanting to deal with him or whatever drama he hopes to bring into your life. “actually, i’m getting ready to watch something, so if you can just hurry this up.” you wave your hands around as you talk, as if he can see you—which, he can. he rolls down his window, arm hanging out of his car as he watches you from across the street.

“i’m tired of you lying to me,” he says curtly, his words like miniature icicles that dig into your skin. “where are you?”

you sigh, frustration evident on your face as you place a hand on your hip. “i’m not lying, leave me alone.” you’re about to hang up when you hear him honk the horn of his car; it’s loud, way too loud, why is it so loud—

a sense of dread passes through you as you look over and spot him; you can feel his glare from where you’re standing and you’re annoyed because of it.

“why the fuck are you here?” you should probably keep it down, but toji is here ruining things and william—your cute, sweet date—is waiting inside; it’s rude to keep him waiting like this, but you’re stuck in this verbal battle and refuse to back down. 

“answer my question.” he sounds bored, his words clipped, attempting to keep it together and failing miserably.

you don’t want to answer him, but know that if you don’t he might do something outrageous and you can’t have that now, can you. 

“i’m on a date,” you admit finally, a sigh accompanying your words, your hand gripping your cell phone tightly. “so if you’ll excuse me, i need to get back inside.”

“no the fuck you don’t,” he says with more irritation than necessary. “i’m going to bring my car around and you’re going to get inside.”

color drains from your face and you stutter, your words tumbling on your tongue. he isn’t serious; he can’t possibly mean it. he wouldn’t dare do something like that.

but you already know the truth; he marches to the beat of his own drum, makes waves in still water, and will continue to uproot your life until he gets tired.

toji hangs up the phone before you can say more, tossing it onto the backseat of his car. you’re too stunned to move, even as he speeds over, tires screeching as the car comes to a halt. he unlocks the door, and when you take too long, he rolls down the passenger window.

 “what did i say, y/n?”

you blink rapidly, stupor dissipating as anger and shame comes rushing to you. “and i’m ignoring you. i’m not getting in your car. not again, not ever.” your pride won’t let you; that’s what you keep telling yourself, anyway. but this man has another thing coming if he thinks he can just bark orders at you. again you ask yourself, who the fuck does he think he is?

he leans over, casting a dark look your way; it’s inappropriate the way it ignites something inside of you—you’ve always known your body to be traitorous but this is ridiculous. you’re not used to men like him, barging into your life, disrupting your peace. you don’t like it, and at the same time you can’t help but be drawn to it.

“get in the fucking car, or i’ll come and toss you inside myself.” the warning is more than a courtesy on his part; he’s pissed beyond belief, at himself, mostly, because seeing you in that dress nearly had him crash his car. the way it molds to your skin, the way your thighs have somehow become even more enticing during the time you spent apart. it’s madness, really it is; and when you turn around, that sight of your round ass has his cock swelling in his pants.

and he feels like punching a hole through his steering wheel because of it

“b-but,” you try to get him to see reason, “my date…” you sound ridiculous, you know, but you can’t just leave william behind. “it’s rude to leave like that, we haven’t even had dinner yet.” you bite your lip, unsure of what to do, but your body drifts closer, seemingly making the choice for you.

when it doesn’t look like you’re going to cooperate, toji unfasten his seatbelt. in a panic, you open the door and slide inside. “okay, okay, sheesh.” you don’t know why you even attempted to get him to see reason. his presence is overwhelming, you can taste his anger in the way he grips the steering wheel, refusing to look at you, driving off before you can put your own seatbelt on. you’ll just have to make up some excuse for william, but you’re not thinking about that now. you just want to know why toji is so pissed off.

“you lied,” he says after a few minutes, the silence thick enough to make you squirm in the seat. 

“about what?” your face scrunches up, clueless as ever. “i haven’t lied to you.” except for the small lies you gave him on the phone earlier. 

jaw clenched, he continues, “think carefully. what did you tell me the night you ran out of my place.” you stare at him, wide-eyed, confusion still evident on your face. he hates how much he wants to kiss you right now, how much he wants to see your lips wrapped around his cock, how much he wants to see your lipstick smeared after he fucks your face. 

“i—” you close your mouth and eyes, memories of the night still very vivid in your mind. you remember panicking about staying the night, the intimacy was too much even for you, and you remember telling him that you’d call him—you insisted on it, actually. because you needed a bit of distance before dealing with him again.

how the hell did you forget that? in your haste to leave, you just blurted things without thinking, not wanting him to see how flustered he had you, how much your heart was beating, how you didn’t think you’d ever feel like that—especially for him. it scared you, so you ran; a coward, that’s all that you are. and a liar too, apparently.

you have the decency to actually feel apologetic. “toji, i’m so sorry, i completely forgot.” it’s the truth. you can’t believe yourself, but it’s the honest truth.

“and then,” he takes a sharp turn and you hold onto the car roof handle for good measure, his tone is deadly, and unfortunately you’re aroused by it all. “you go on a date wearing that,” he looks at you, more annoyance building inside of him.

it dawns on you, then. “wait, are you jealous?”

he shoots you an incredulous look. “the fuck would i need to be jealous for?” an absolutely ridiculous accusation; he sucks his teeth and swerves in and out of traffic, his speed much higher than the legal limit. 

“listen, the only reason why i even reached out to—toji damn it watch the fucking road!” he nearly misses an incoming truck, the large headlights alerting you that he drifted off to the wrong lane—not that he seems to care. 

“i don’t care,” he says simply, as if his answer is the only logical thing he can come up with. you don’t know what comes over you, but you place your hand against his thigh gently, rubbing circles with it right after. somehow this soothes him, but his foot is still heavy on the gas, he definitely won’t let you off that easily tonight.

“i…” what can you say, you’ve already apologized; maybe he just needs a little push from you. “i’ll make it up to you,” you say softly, eyes lowered as you press your lips together. that seems to catch his attention. 

with a noncommittal grunt, he swiftly pulls into a parking space, and it’s then that you realize he’s taken you back home. when you look up again in surprise, you mean to ask him just how he knows where you live, but you doubt he’ll tell you. if anything, he probably knew where you lived this whole time—a fact that should alarm you, but instead you feel pleased.

you need help, badly.

while toji exits the car, you scramble to unfasten your seatbelt and follow after him. silence descends upon you again, making it difficult for you to stand close to him, even the elevator ride makes you nervous. and not for anything you should actually be nervous about; no, it’s all because you have a feeling your night won’t end poorly after all.

he waits for you to unlock your door and once you’re inside, he closes the door and locks it. you walk away from him, ready to take off your heels since he interrupted your date. “um, do you want something to drink, i have—” toji wraps a hand around your throat, cutting your words off, and you gasp when he pushes you against the wall roughly.

“tell me,” his lips brush along the curve of your ear, voice deep and low, words settling inside of you and setting your body on fire. “you’d rather go on a date with a spineless loser like that,” his tongue darts out and flicks against your earlobe, “than call or text me, hm?” he eases his grip just a bit, giving you room to talk, although your voice is strained.

“no, that’s not what happened,” you try to explain, your thighs squeezing together when his thumb rubs against a pressure point on the side of your neck. “also, he’s not a loser, don’t say that.” you like to think that you’re a fairly decent judge of character.

instead of making a sound argument like someone with a modicum of sense, toji just laughs. it isn’t joyous at all, no; he’s mocking you, his grin truly wicked, a barrage of illicit promises behind it.

“that’s not funny, don’t laugh at me.”

you frown, but it only makes him grin more. “it’s hilarious, actually,” his chuckles bring another flush to your cheeks, you don’t know if you can take any more of his ridicule. another lie that you tell yourself. “i spoke with him before i called you.” the way you tense up is priceless to him. your reactions truly are entertaining. “and guess what?” his lips ghost along your jaw, his thumb caressing your skin again.

“wh-what?” you manage to spit out.

“i bet him $5,000 that you would get in the car with me.”

it’s such a ridiculous statement that you find yourself laughing too. “there’s no way you did that.” you try to appear aloof and unaffected, but the thought of toji seeking out your date just to prove that you didn’t actually want to be with him spoke volumes.

it also proves your mother’s point. you absolutely are a whore.

“but…” you swallow, your hands shaking. not out of fear, but out of want. “why?”

toji’s eyes—green, commanding, brutalizing you in a way you can’t explain—never leave you; he watches the way you inhale, the way the top of your breasts spill over in your dress, the way you squeeze your legs together, thighs covertly rubbing against one another.

but all he responds with is, “dunno. why do you think?” his question comes out harsh, making you very aware of the predicament you’ve found yourself in. toji didn’t think the guy would actually take him up on his bet, but then again, william has the whole ‘good guy’ routine down pat. it annoys him how easily you fell for that, the prospect of possibly winning money clearly more interesting than defending your honor. he’ll just have to pay william a visit later; to collect the money he owes toji, and to beat his ass for even taking the fucking bet in the first place.

like he said previously, a spineless loser.

“you’re so demented,” you say with a bit of wonder; how did he come to be like this? you can’t even imagine what sort of life he’s had to live to make him this way. 

normally, he has a bit more control, but whenever he’s around you, he can’t help himself. you drive him crazy, in the best and worst way. he knew the moment he sunk his fingers into your tight pussy that he couldn’t give you up. it’s impossible, infuriating even. 

however, without hesitation, lips slanting against yours, he boldly declares, “and you fucking love it.”

a whimper claws its way out of your mouth, residual shame attempting to pull you away, but you remain put. it’s you who kisses him first; he removes his hand from your throat and uses it to glide down your back, forcefully grabbing a handful of your ass. your panties are soaked, a jolt shooting down your body when he smacks your ass, the reverberations making your pussy tingle, wetness dripping in between your thighs. you should feel absolutely embarrassed by how badly you want him to fuck you right now. but you don’t. he deepens the kiss, tongue thrusting into your mouth like he owns it, swirling around yours hotly. it consumes you entirely, goosebumps prancing along your skin, a tremor passing through you again. your hand finds the back of his neck and you grip it for support, your legs nearly giving out when he sucks on your tongue.

you’re not 100% sure, but this might be his attempt at killing you slowly.

the kiss leaves you dazed and giddy; you pant lightly, trying to catch your breath as he drops kisses down your throat, mesmerized by the softness of your skin, mouth and tongue skillfully leaving a few, bruising marks behind. any attempt you make at keeping quiet dies down quickly; toji’s hands grip the hem of your dress, tugging it upward impatiently. when you shimmy out of it, he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, fighting back the urge to just fuck you right there. you’re in a matching lingerie set—pink, lacy, terribly fragile—he tsks audibly, hand grabbing your face roughly, thumb rubbing your lower lip and chin.

“don’t tell me,” he starts, voice husky, tantalizing, inescapable. “you wore this for him, didn’t you?” 

you roll your eyes dramatically. “no, i wore it for myself.” which is the truth. you liked cute stuff like that; and your dress was much too tight for your regular sets. besides, you don’t need to explain yourself to him, he’s not your damn boyfriend or anything. “so don’t mess it u—” you let out a loud shriek when he rips your panties off of you. again.

indignant, you’re not thinking straight when you start to mouth off at him. “you rudeass motherfuc—”

his mouth is on yours faster than you can finish, teeth tugging on your lip harshly, forcing that obnoxious ache to grow within you. “i need you to understand something,” he says against your lips, the heat making you slightly delirious with need, “you’re not calling the shots here.” because you clearly needed a reminder. “i am,” he says sternly, almost as if the sight of you enrages him. when he kisses you again—lips devilish, disrespectful, demanding—he palms your pussy aggressively, applying pressure as he rubs it agonizingly slow. another moan is unwillingly dragged out of you, your slick wetness drips heavily onto his hand; you don’t even care that your hips are rolling forward so you can chase that delicious high.

begging might be easier, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything just yet; although, you might actually pass out if he doesn’t do something quick.

you press closer, your nipples hard, the pain a sick sort of pleasure; you ardently return his kiss, tongue intruding in his mouth sweetly, the length of his hardened cock pressing against the front of his jeans, distracting him from his true goal. 

absolute domination of you.

it’s a ridiculous notion, but once he gets ideas like that in his head…he has to see them through. you’re no exception either. still, he knows he can’t tease you forever, his own arousal pushing him to his breaking point. he pulls away suddenly, depriving you of his lips, a cruelty that makes you pout. giving your ass another, harder smack he tells you to lead the way. you give him a heated look before walking in front of him, hips swaying, heels clacking loudly on the floor—a sound he normally hates, but he’s somehow made an exception for you—your ass tempting him as he follows after you. you reach your bedroom fairly quickly, discarding your bra on the way. 

you don’t bother asking him where your torn panties are; you have a feeling he’s going to keep those like he kept the other. and, again you’re reminded of your mother’s harsh words, but you soldier on, looking over your shoulder at the most audacious man on the planet, your lips tug upward, the smirk a sensual invite as you crawl on top of your bed with your heels on.

yeah, he’s not letting you go anytime soon.

he sheds his shirt and you roll onto your back so you can watch him properly. the rest of his clothes comes off just as quickly, your eyelids lowering as you take in the sight of his body. it’s so damn unfair; he’s fiendishly handsome, his voice haunts you late at night, and his muscles remind you of a greek god whose name you’ve already forgotten. with his terrible personality and possessive behavior, you’re not sure if this is a path you’re ready to take.

but you can’t help the way you spread your legs for him without prompting, or the way you dip your fingers into your pussy, desperate for some form of relief; when he reaches your bed, he smacks your hand away, your mouth opening so that you can voice your displeasure.

“don’t even fucking try it,” he says gruffly, rubbing his thick finger in between your folds before bringing his hand back and slapping your pussy. the sting has you crying out, but he massages it before long, settling comfortably as he hooks his arms around your legs. with a long lick, you’re bucking your hips off of the mattress, his mouth sinfully staking its claim as he loudly slurps on your pussy; the noise rattles you, your squirming futile as he holds you still.

“f-fuck you, t-toji,” you grit out, annoyed at how good he makes you feel, at how your body moves with every stroke of his ridiculous tongue, at how you don’t want him to stop. not now, not ever. the thought scares you; you really, truly need help.

“we’ll get to that later,” he says lightly, before attacking your pussy again. your taste invigorates him, he doesn’t know how he functioned prior to tasting you; it’s a problem, really. one he needs to solve sooner rather than later. 

you hate how much you like the banter between the two of you. you shouldn’t be this turned on by his words, and yet, here you are, fingers yanking on his hair as you shamefully ride his face. he rips away from you, not caring if you tore out a few strands from his head, and sharply glares at you. “what did i fucking say earlier?” anger and lust are a nasty combination, yet in the right setting, it’s absolutely perfect.

“that you’re calling the shots,” you reply sheepishly, trying to calm your heart down—it’s beating so loudly, you’re afraid he might hear it. 

“good girl,” he says slyly, his smile dangerous, hands even moreso. sliding two fingers inside of you, toji pulls them in out lazily, eyes watching as you clench around him. it’s so fucking hot, but he won’t tell you that yet. “that’s it,” he coaches, “fuck yourself on my fingers.” you obey without question, without shame, without regret—hips rolling, desperately wanting him to fuck you properly. he inserts a third, filling you up, thumb circling your clit menacingly, sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body.

“toji please, please…” tears welling up in your eyes, your hips bucking up against his hand, “oh god, oh god—” he removes his fingers prematurely and slaps your pussy again. a warning. your hands fly to your mouth, clamping down hard.

“what did i tell you about that ‘oh god’ shit.” the way he mimics you makes you want to kick his face, maybe jab your stiletto into his eye, and it also makes you want to act out again.

you’re also finding it tragically difficult trying to remember what he said and didn’t say—in true villain fashion, toji doesn’t let up, slapping your pussy once more—with his cock this time. you can hardly breathe, and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

“look at you,” he taunts, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever encountered, and here you are, begging him to fuck you. his ego couldn’t get any bigger if he tried. “say it,” he commands, “i wanna hear you, loud and clear.” 

you swallow hard, head nodding, curls framing your face as you look at him pitifully. “toji,” you breathe, pussy drenching the length of him, a sight he’ll never forget, “fuck me, please. i can’t take it anymore.” it’s just so embarrassing, but you don’t care now.

dark laughter finds you again, its hands roaming along your body, bringing a chill that you can’t shake. “i can’t take it anymore,” he mimics, enjoying the way you’re responding to him; he didn’t think you’d be this compliant, but he supposes all that teasing was worth it in the end. your mouth purses, irritation crossing your eyes briefly, and you make another grave mistake.

“you’re so damn mean, you know tha—”

his cock delves into you, burying deeply, cutting off your diatribe. “shut the fuck up,” his patience has left him completely, “i told you about your fucking mouth before.” he grabs it again, mouth slanting with yours, and leaving a scorching, rapturous kiss behind. you’re sure this is what heaven must feel like, and he doesn’t move for a moment, waiting for you to adjust to his girth—the one kindness he awards you—before pummeling into you again. your nails sink into his skin, viciously leaving scratch marks on his arms, his back, even his neck. it’s impressive, you’ve got more strength than you realize.

toji’s strokes are lethal, hips pulling back as far as he can before fucking you so hard, you think you might actually break your bedframe. you’re sure it’s fine—it’s sturdy and brand new—but you’ve also never had anyone so ruthless and intoxicating like him before. your pussy clamps around his cock, tight enough that he slightly fears it might actually cut off his circulation. he wonders if this was a miscalculation on his part. it’s a possibility. he still can’t believe how angry he was earlier; how did you bewitch him without his knowledge? 

because that’s what it is, isn’t it? a spell of yours; dark magic, even—he’s certain of it. there’s no way he’s just into you like that. 

he jerks his hips, balls slapping your ass roughly, and you cum—harder than you ever have. your pussy clenches and spasms around him, his own looming orgasm threatening him; he pulls out of you, much to your disapproval, but soon has you on all fours, ass in the air, arousal coating the inside of your thighs.

“you’re so pretty like this,” he says casually, your face flushing again, making it hard to function.

when he enters you again, you scream his name, his hips snapping as your ass bounces against him. “whose cock are you creaming all over right now?” the question is ridiculous; out of spite, you don’t want to answer him, but then he slaps your ass and you’re moaning, out of breath, his cock hitting a certain spot, your moist warmth turning him feral and relentless.

“y-yours,” you say at last, fingers pulling at your bed sheets. you’re making an absolute mess of your sheets, but that’s the furthest thing from your mind right now. all you can think about is how toji has you right in the palm of his hand.

“and this pussy?” as his groans turn you into putty, his fingers slide underneath and pinch your clit. when he speaks again, his voice has a hardened edge to it, one dipped in lust and faint amusement. “who does it belong to?”

this completely unravels you; forget your self-preservation, your dignity, your sanity—toji has completely taken over your very being. he slams his cock into you harder, making you yelp. “you!” you don’t care at this point, you’ll say anything that he wants, you just don’t want him to stop. “it belongs to you, toji, fuck…”

his fingers tangle into your hair and he grabs a fistful, pulling you towards him, his mouth on your ear again. “don’t you ever forget that. i’ll ruin you for anyone who dares to come after me.” his response shocks the both of you, but he recovers from it quickly, his moans triggering another orgasm to rip through you. and when you clench around him this time, he follows you over the edge.

“oh shit,” he says while laughing, “fuck, baby girl, look at how much of a mess you’re making.” weakly, you make an attempt to look, too bashful to actually do it. he’s made you squirt again, you could die from the embarrassment. you just might later on. he kisses your neck and bucks his hips against you, cumming not too long after. the aftershocks immobilize you, and you tumble onto the bed even when he pulls out of you. toji takes in the sight of you, all the small bruises from where he grabbed you, the hickeys, bite marks; he had no business doing any of that, and yet he feels an odd sense of satisfaction course through him.

“you’re a menace,” you mumble sleepily, waving a hand at him. your tone strokes something inside of him, and that something makes him lay down next to you, grabbing the blanket before tossing an arm around you. 

“i told you about your mouth,” he says absently, you can also hear the fatigue in his voice too. the man’s stamina is outrageous, but when you roll onto your side so you can look at him again, you’re sucked into his orbit permanently. you snuggle closer, and he doesn’t leave—silence preventing you both from saying anything else.

[venusiangguk]

may we see the fight tae oc scene pls pls please!!! u can delete later🤔🤔🤔🤔😳😳😳😳 i’m really curious. i mean ofc u don’t have to. still 😧🙃

idealizations concerning real life relations: deleted scene

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / icrlr!couple

>>genre: fwb, angst, rated PG

>>word count: 2.5k

>>warnings: alcohol, implied smut

>>notes: this is a deleted scene from icrlr, that i omitted simply because of the length of the final fic!! feel free to skip or ignore, it doesn't change anything, but since u guys are curious about it, i'll post it as a lil ty for helping me hit that milestone <3 it takes place after the tattoo party scene, and before the lecture scene.

this does NOT provide an alternative ending.

>>summary: taehyung tries to make you see things for what they really are, but it's hard to see through the rose colored glasses.

Winter break has been long awaited and it is finally, finally here. The snow has coated the ground thick, making the town look like a winter wonderland. The air is sharp and cold but not to a miserable extent. Just chilly enough to bundle up, to hold a hand a little tighter and soak up their warmth.

Your favorite season is fall, but the later months are a close second. You love seeing the way everyone’s faces get red when snow flurries come down to kiss their nose and cheeks. Love the way pom poms bounce atop little hats as children play and have snowball fights. Winter is surprisingly one of the warmest, sweetest times of the year. Like the hot coco Jeongguk has been swapping your regular macchiato with lately.

There’s a greatly anticipated party tonight- a mashup of Taehyung’s birthday and New Year’s Eve. Anticipated for the simple fact that said birthday boy has steadily been ignoring you for weeks, and tonight was a night where he couldn’t evade your attempts of reconciliation. He hasn’t returned a single call or even sent a text back. You can’t even be mad at him really, you know it’s justified. You know you fucked up. The coffee date you had with Yoongi last week let you know what you did.

Over an iced coffee, you learned that you had unintentionally skipped out on your best friend's Winter Showcase. The important one that he mentioned multiple times. The one you promised to attend no matter what.

It wasn’t on purpose; you wanted to go, to support him. But you just got caught up. In life, in school, in Jeongguk. It happens.

When Yoongi asked you why you had missed it, when he told you how hurt Taehyung was by your absence, your heart dropped, sank deep within your chest as your mouth fell open before closing, a small pursed frown on your lips. You didn’t have a good excuse. You went to get tattoos with Jeongguk and then to a party where you fucked him, and then home after that? You were too tired to make it? You just simply forgot? Those excuses weren’t good enough for you and you knew they wouldn’t be good enough for Taehyung.

Whereas Yoongi was okay with distance, long periods in between hanging out and talking, Taehyung wasn’t. He was the kind of friend that needed support, reassurance that you cared. He liked quality time and hangs outs that were planned ahead so he could look forward to them. He was looking forward to you being at his showcase.

The party is packed, even more so than usual. Students, drop-outs, alumni, and randoms alike, all congregate to bring in the new year, to celebrate the end of finals, and a certain art majors birthday. Bodies are on bodies, music is loud and deafening. Cups, bottles, and small baggies litter the floor and the smell of weed is nauseating.

Jeongguk’s hand in yours is sweet, though. Enough to ebb the distaste in your mouth as you watch the stereotypical disaster that is a college party.

“I’m going to go find the drinks, okay?” you lie, squeezing Jeongguk’s hand lightly.

He squeezes back, kisses the side of your head as he says, “Bring me one back too?”

You nod, and slip out of his view. Scanning the crowd until you see a familiar face.

Jimin is laughing, red cup in his hand, eyes curled and happy. He’s sitting on the arm of a couch, legs swinging as he laughs with a group of people. He takes a drink from his cup and let’s his eyes roam the room like he’s looking for someone.

The way his face changes when he sees you approaching is like a punch in the gut. It goes from happy, and carefree to stony- only a small, irritated, close-lipped smile on his face. Eyes harsh and cold, no longer holding the mirth they were just seconds ago. He says nothing when you step in front of him, he just looks you over like he’s bored and waiting for you to get on with it so he can be done with it.

You shift on your feet under his scrutiny. “Where’s Tae?” you ask.

Jimin narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head. “Now you want to know where he is? Haven’t been concerned with his whereabouts for months. Definitely weren’t worried about it last week.”

You wince but carry on swiftly. “Listen, I know I fucked up. I’m here to apologize.” You look at him expectantly, but he holds his ground. When he doesn’t falter, you resort to begging, “Please, Jimin. He’s my best friend… I miss him.”

You must look pitiful, because Jimin’s indifferent facade fades, and he clicks his tongue like he’s annoyed at himself for giving into you. “He’s getting us drinks in the kitchen.”

A smile takes over your face as you rush out a ‘thank you’, quickly turning on your heel to head in the opposite direction, before Jimin calls after you.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“If he’s your best friend, maybe treat him like it, yeah?”

You continue to the kitchen without replying, and you can’t help the little simmer of annoyance that bubbles in your chest. Taehyung has been your best friend for years. And even though Jimin had a point, who was he to tell you anything about yours and Taehyung’s friendship?

Before the thought can fester, however, you see the boy you came looking for, two bottles of vodka in his hand like he’s trying to decide which to use. You see the little party hat atop his shaggy hair before anything else and your heart aches a little. You really did miss him. He lets out a small annoyed sound, and knowing him, he’s probably trying to figure out which has the highest alcohol percentage. You come up next to him, and say his name gently. He jumps, but when he realizes it’s you, the ghost of a smile curls on his lips like he’s happy to see you.

Until it’s replaced with resentment just as quickly. His sharp eyes squint at you before turning back to the bottles in his hands, scowl still in place.

“So you decided you could pencil me in between getting your heart toyed with and your back blown out?” He gives you a side glance and sees how your jaw drops in surprise. He carries on, unbothered. “Or did this just work out because it coincides with New Year’s and because he was invited? Only because he’s Jimin’s friend might I add.”

“Tae-” you try, doing your best to keep the hurt whine out of your tone.

“Save it, __. I don’t want to hear the excuses you have. Just-” he looks at you again, and you think that maybe he softens when he sees your crestfallen features. He sighs like he’s tired. “Just leave me alone. Just for a bit, okay? I’ll get over it eventually,” he finishes, finally deciding on the vodka he wants.

You know his request isn't unreasonable. But it’s already been so long that the distance in your friendship has been eating away at it, that you’re scared ‘eventually’ might take too long and by the time he comes around, there won’t be much of a friendship left. That the damage done, will be irreparable.

“Tae… It’s already been months, can’t we-”

Like night and day, the softness that you were able to pull out of him is immediately replaced with that resentment and anger you were met with when you first stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he seethes, strong brows furrowed. “And whose fault is that?”

His words are sharp and the sting from them makes you take a step back. That is, until you feel anger of your own creep up your throat like venom. “You’re one to talk, Taehyung. You could have reached out to me, too. You’re no better than me when you’re in a relationship.”

He groans, gives an exasperated laugh before shrugging. “You know what? Maybe I am just as bad as you, but at least I’m actually in a relationship,” he spits, “You’re just fucking someone that doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

You know he’s hurt because of the distance. That he doesn’t intend to be so mean. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, and it doesn’t stop the angry tears from pooling in your eyes.

And although you’re angry, almost shaking with rage at the feeling of being cornered and blamed, your heart aches at hearing his words.

Jimin, who started seeing Taehyung after you started seeing Jeongguk, had already made your friend official. Had given him the title, the commitment, the relationship that you had been patiently and understandingly waiting for with Jeongguk. The bitterness that bleeds into your heart makes you feel gross and ugly.

You know what they say; that labels are superficial and don’t mean that much. But when you don’t have them? It makes you wonder. If a label really isn’t that important, like everyone says, why is Jeongguk so reluctant to give one to you?

“Jimin’s your boyfriend?” you whisper.

Taehyung gives you a short nod. “Month and half ago. You would’ve known if you got your head out of Jeongguk’s ass.”

Almost like he was summoned, the topic of debate waltz into the room, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He nuzzles into your neck.

It’s instinctual now, the way your body responds to him. The way you melt into his chest like second-nature, how your hands settle over his like they are keeping them in place. How immediately in his presence you feel calmer; the panicky, hurt feeling you were experiencing moments ago vanishing as if it were just a fleeting thought and not something that’s always in the back of your head.

Not in a possessive, ‘I need him to be mine’ kind of way, though.

More like, ‘Why won’t he be mine?’

“Hi,” he murmurs into your neck.

“Hi, baby,” you respond softly, out of habit. The room shirks around you whenever he’s near. Makes you feel like you’re in your own bubble with him.

Jeongguk’s about to reply, ask where the drinks are, but then he hears an annoyed scoff sound in front of you both. Jeongguk bristles as he looks up and sees Taehyung taking a big swig from his cup.

“Uh- am I interrupting? Should I go?” he asks hesitantly, looking between you and your friend.

“No-” you say at the same time that Taehyung says, “Yes.”

You cringe, and turn in Jeongguk’s arms, hands resting on his chest. “Just give me a couple more minutes okay? I’ll bring the drinks.”

Jeongguk searches your eyes, before looking at Taehyung one last time before giving you a stern nod and a quick kiss.

You turn back to Taehyung, ready to apologize for Jeongguk’s interruption, when he talks over you.

“You’re pathetic,” he starts, and you roll your eyes with an irritated sigh before he continues, “but I know you love him. And that you can’t help it,” he shrugs. “But as your friend, I have to tell you that it’s not going to end well. You probably don’t even need me to tell you that. You probably already know and are choosing to ignore it for the sake of the delusions you’ve made up in your ‘pretty little head’.”

You pout at him quoting you, and your brows furrow. “He cares about me. And he’s Jimin’s best friend. He’s a good person, you don’t even know him,” you argue defensively. Though you know your arguments make little sense and are flimsy at best.

Taehyung frowns. Pauses like he’s thinking.

“I didn’t say he was a bad person, and maybe he does care about you in his own messed up way. But he doesn’t care about you in the way that you want him to.” His lips are still down turned when he speaks again.

“And the difference between him with you and him with Jimin is astronomical; it shouldn’t even be a comparison, but I will humor you,” he rubs a hand up and down his face like he’s tired. “The dynamic is completely different, for obvious reasons. For one, Jimin is a safe relationship. You are not. Jimin isn’t in love with him, Jimin isn’t sucking his dick, and Jimin doesn’t want things from Jeongguk that Jeongguk cannot give, or does not want to give,” he says with a raised brow as he takes a sip of his drink.

It seems that the anger has died down some between you both, a semi-civil conversation finally being had. You wrinkle your brows in confusion at him. “What are you talking about?”

He rolls his eyes. “Cmon __. Why do you think he hasn’t made you his girlfriend? Why do you think he literally has not been in a serious relationship since high school? Why do you think he never agrees to anything more than 2 months out?” He waits for you to answer but you just purse your lips stubbornly. “He’s scared. Dare I say terrified of commitment, and that’s exactly what you want from him right?”

You stay headstrong and quiet for a moment longer, ignoring his question in favor of asking one of your own when you finally do speak up. “If I’m so scary, why hasn’t he left?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Fuck if I know? Maybe he does care about you like you say he does. I don’t think so, but hey,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, like he is throwing in the figurative towel. “Maybe you’re right and maybe I‘m wrong. Or maybe there’s some fucked up codependency fermenting between you both when you copulate. I genuinely have no clue, and frankly, I don’t care to find out. Don’t text me until you come to your senses. And don’t get mad when I tell you ‘I told you so’.”

And with that, he turns and leaves you to make your own drinks. You hope the smile you give Jeongguk when you find him is believable.

That night when you go back to his place, you voice your concerns to him in between sweet, heated kisses that taste like hot cider. You tell him hesitantly how Taehyung voiced his concerns about Jeongguk not caring about you and Jeongguk got a little irritated, a little miffed as he unlatched his lips from your neck. He asked what Taehyung knew, how he even came to that conclusion when he’s not around you both.

He assured you with gentle touches and tender words that of course he cares about you. He reminded you that he always makes time for you, he always answers your calls and your texts, he takes you out every now and then, too. He asks you what you think and when you contemplate your answer, going over what he said, you can’t really argue with him. Even if an uneasy, dismal feeling settles in the pit of your tummy.

~~~

hellooo!! again, this is just a scene and part of the plot that i chose not to use because i felt like the fic was already so long. i wish that i had ended up including it tho, so i hope you enjoyed even though its nothing special <3 feel free to do the things if you liked it: like, comment, reblog, send an ask~~ love u, ty again for helping me reach that milestone <3

[blehblarghblah]

Reverse Unpopular Opinion: Them's The Breaks, Kids? What did you like about the episode???

Clever, a way for me to gush about the most recent episode of TOH?

This episode might just be my favourite in the entire season so far. Yes, season 2a AND b. This is one of those, "Ahh, this could be considered filler because it's just fluff and backstory" debates that I could EASILY disagree on. Purely because, as always, there's nothing wrong with backstory development and character growth. But also, there's at least two major plot points introduced at the beginning and end. Luz is learning new glyphs from Philip, some of which are incomplete, and Raine isn't actually under the influence of a spell and Darius is aiding them in some way.

Quickfire things I liked as well:

Darius and Alador were, at the very least, amicable classmates back in Hexside.

Eda covering for Lilith.

Eda's Illusion pranks. Emira and Edric joining the Bad Girl Coven means they've got a lot more to learn.

Raine being a complete badass and showing why Bard Magic is awesome (it's one of my favourite of the Covens).

Raeda combos, Raine appreciating and liking Eda's humour while Eda just adoring Raine's nerdy side and appreciating Bard Magic.

Raine's whistle. My sister noted it was weird they blew on the drink back in Follies of the Coven's Day Parade.

Implication that whatever is planned, Raine doesn't want Eda involved because they know she has kids now. Eda's Requiem showed Raine was willing to sacrifice their life for the cause, but they're not willing to put Eda's life on the line knowing she has family.

Raine's influence of Bard Magic possibly being a factor in Eda wanting to learn all kinds of Magic, given she didn't think much of Bard Magic at first.

Bump and Eda as a sort mentor-mentee duo. I bet he was lowkey proud of her returning to help during the Palisman Adoption Day. It's like a star student coming back.

Dorky Lilith. Poor girl is trying so hard and for how little she speaks, Abigail Zoe Lewis does a good job a conveying her awkwardness.

All the VAs of the younger characters wonderfully capture the cadence of their older counterparts. It's great!

That aside, HUGE ramble of appreciation coming in so read more if ya'd like. It's about Bump. ( ^‿^)

Set that aside, this episodes reaffirms so many things about the characters we already know and just adds so much more love to why the way they are. I love Lilith, I really do, but there's something so rewarding with seeing Eda be so casual with her academics and still possess greater knowledge than her older sister. It just reminds us that "The Most Powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles" wasn't just something that was made up.

But another thing? Principal Bump was easily one of my favourite aspects of this episode. And I'm willing to go on a ramble as to why because I feel like Raeda is going to be the highlight of mostly everyone's points (justifiably so, I'd say). It shows so much of how he has changed but also tried to do better than his predecessor. Think back to The First Day: I know I'm probably alone in this, but I always fell Bump's turnaround at the end was so jarringly abrupt but was like, "Eh, not a big deal. Just weird." But if you add the context of Them's the Breaks, Kid you suddenly just understand he's trying.

He says he's smart enough to admit when he's made a mistake. It's as if he just recognizes that, "Man, the stuff I'm saying is something Faust would be so hard about" and steps back and agrees. It's the fact that he had an amicable relationship with Eda, setting aside all the reports he made for her rap sheet, he still looks back on those moments fondly. Because after the chaos of The First Day, he knowingly pulls out and reveals the photo of a student he knew wanted to study all the tracks. And then you think of Escaping Expulsion, where he seems to also think fondly of Luz, Gus, and Willow, a trio of misfits who are barely on Eda's level of chaos, but still just enough. And yet he still adores them.

He just represents aspects of an educator trying to change system bit by bit, in my opinion. He tells Terra that endangering children is against the law, but later in his life he's technically guilty of doing so with his detention system. Faust kept Eda in school for the most part because he recognized her talent, Bump supposedly is willing to let Boscha get away with murder. It's just facets of how as much as you want to change the system, adapting its techniques within your own is how life grows. But above all else, he's willing to change his perspective in favour of his students. Bump is by all means, a pretty good guy. Yeah he's a principal, but he's not a stooge.

Until next ask,

- Bleh

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar

(Part 3! Starring Mini Mammon and Mini Asmo!)

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Underground Tomb special Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Part 4

MC names:

Lucifer’s kid=L!MC | Mammon’s kid=M!MC | Asmo’s kid=A!MC

Why did bad things happen to good people? Well... Lucifer being a good person is up to interpretation. He hadn’t done anything too heinous recently, his instruments of torture were collecting dust for goodness sake! So why oh why was he staring down two half demon children who looked suspiciously like two of his brothers?

The first kid to step forward was Mammon’s without a doubt, but their general demeanour was very different from their father’s. Perhaps their other parent had done a good job-

“What the fuck was that?!”

Never mind. The kid had Mammon’s pottymouth.

The other child surveyed the scene with a nervousness that their suspected parent never possessed. The kid’s gaze fell on Lucifer, their eyes began to glow ever so slightly. “Uh-um...” the kid cleared their throat. “Someone explain what’s going on!”

Was this child seriously trying to use manipulation powers on Lucifer? He almost laughed at the mere idea of someone trying. The child didn’t even seem to be aware that they were doing it. When their question was met with blank stares, they instantly shrank back and practically hid behind the first half demon. Despite the severe self-esteem difference, this kid was Asmodeus’.

Lucifer’s own child cleared their throat and smiled. “Welcome to the Devildom!”

The Uncle That Looks Like he Has his Shit Together but he Leaves the Reunion Drunk off his Rocker (Lucifer)

Ah shit here we go again-

Okay- okay. Normally he’d scold L!MC for taking Diavolo’s line, but Dia had recovered from his shock and was now gushing over the new exchange students like an excited puppy.

“Okay... L!MC you’re going to need to share your room.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Unless Belphie is willing to give up the attic as a nap spot-”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

“You’re sharing your room.”

RAD was buzzing with gossip for the entire first month of the second attempt at the exchange program. The threats of being eaten were once again stamped out very quickly.

(Special thanks to L!MC for being a good bodyguard)

Now, Lucifer didn’t exactly know what to expect when it came to the child of his favourite brother. Mammon was a dumbass, but this kid... this kid...

Was smart.

For the first time in Lucifer’s very long life he felt compelled to place someone in a higher echelon than himself.

Mammon’s child managed to successfully budget that dumpster fire of a house. On the first fucking day. Not only that. This kid managed to skim FIVE THOUSAND GRIMM OFF THE TOP AND THE BUDGET STILL WORKED! WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT-

Lucifer and Mammon thanked whatever spirit was watching over them because they truly believed their financial woes were over.

Shame that M!MC also spent their money on dumb stuff they didn’t need. Like father like child.

It’s no secret that Lucifer does have a bit of a soft spot for Asmo, I mean, who doesn’t love Asmo? But A!MC was a blessing sent right from the Celestial Realm.

They were just... too sweet. Way too sweet. Lucifer was actively getting cavities just being near them.

Anyone who bothered A!MC and M!MC during the first month ended up getting... uh... suspended.

(We can assume the threat of suspension would have extended to those who bothered L!MC but all the lesser demons were already terrified of them.)

Normally when Lucifer called someone into his study it was to lecture them for at least four hours and then send them to their rooms, but he was having quite the difficult time actually being upset with M!MC and A!MC.

A!MC looked close to tears and M!MC just stared right back at Lucifer with little to no fear in their eyes.

“Starting a fight during the first week of school is not how I expected the exchange students to behave.” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, and prepared to continue the lecture, when he heard a sniffle. There wasn’t enough Demonus in the entire Devildom...

“I-I’m s—sorry...” A!MC sniffled, quickly wiping at their eyes. “Th-they were being r-really scary and we did-didn’t know what else to do...”

“So you threw them out of a window?”

“I threw them out of the window.” M!MC huffed. “They were bein’ a dick.”

“So you threw them out of a window?”

“That um...” A!MC mumbled. “That’s not all... I may have... told them to stick their head in a toilet first...”

“You made them stick their head in a toilet,” Lucifer turned to M!MC. “And then you threw them out of a window?”

“Yes.” M!MC and A!MC replied. Lucifer downed the rest of his glass of Demonus and debated whether or not it would be a show of weakness to slam his forehead into the desk in front of the children.

Lucifer looked between the two for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “It’s my job to deal with threats to the exchange students, not yours.” Lucifer stood in front of the two, he rested his hands on their heads and gave them a quick pat, before knocking their heads together. “Next time someone bothers you, tell me. If I hear even a whisper of you two getting into another fight, I’m hanging you from the ceiling. Is that clear?”

A!MC and M!MC looked at each other, then back at Lucifer and nodded. “Yes sir!”

“Good.” Lucifer removed his hand from their heads. “Now shoo.”

Flying lessons for the two of them went way quicker than it did for L!MC, mainly because L!MC was a way better teacher.

As much as Lucifer loved his newly found niblings, he couldn’t show it too much. Outward softness was reserved for L!MC and L!MC only. M!MC and A!MC were stuck with silent acts of affection.

Every once and a while a little present or two would end up in M!MC or A!MC’s possession. Some ice cream money for M!MC when they blew their part of the budget on fancy sunglasses, a multiplayer video game that the three half-demons could play together, new shoes when A!MC accidentally ruined their’s...

He’s a good uncle. A scary uncle. But a good uncle. ^_^

(Don’t tell him I said that, I’m still in trouble for advertising Mammon’s escape Go Fund Me and I don’t want to have to write the rest of this HC hanging upside down.)

He’s Not Like the Other Dads, he’s a Cool Dad! (Mammon)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (Fear)

He’s a dad?! HE’S TO YOUNG TO BE A DAD! Hang on- he’s over five thousand years old...

Oh would you look at that! His kid pulled out a calculator.

...his annual income? Uh... why do you- HEY! WHAT’S WITH THAT FACE?!

M!MC puffed out their cheek as they continued to add the ever growing list of numbers into the calculator. Mammon was trying to get a peak at what they were calculating. M!MC suddenly looked up and practically lit up the room with their smile. Aw, their fangs were growing in!

They had a devilishly charming smile, just like their pop! A real chip off the old block! It almost brought a tear to Mammon’s eye and he actually felt compelled to give this kid all the money he had on him. Maybe even his Rolex too!

“Mammon, Avatar of Greed,” M!MC said sweetly. “My... dad.”

“Yep! That’s uh... that’s me!” Mammon awkwardly ruffled his kid’s hair, the kid laughed good naturedly.

M!MC’s sweet as honey smile flipped from elated to malicious in a manner of nanoseconds. “You owe over thirteen years of child support. Dad.”

Everyone say thank you to Lucifer and Diavolo for getting M!MC to compromise and not try and sue their father.

If you thought Mammon spoiled L!MC you’ve got another thing coming. Mammon’s wallet never stood a chance against his kid.

Poor Goldie, press F to pay respects.

Mammon also tried to teach A!MC and M!MC to drive, M!MC has no regard for their safety, the safety of others, or the laws of the road, buuuuuuuut they manage to get the car back with no dents and no property damage bills are being delivered to the house sooooo...

A!MC can drive fine... it’s just that they adhere to literally every law known to demonkind, which means neither Mammon or Asmo are allowed to open up the sunroof and do that movie thing where they pop their heads out and yell something. ITS NOT SAFE!

Our beloved dummy also tried to teach his kid how to play poker, with... limited success.

“Aw, come on kiddo.” Mammon smirked, flicking his kid on the nose. “Your poker face is awful, I can also see your cards from here.”

M!MC growled and held their cards closer to their face. “My poker face is fine!” It was in fact, not fine.

Mammon scratched his head and thought for a moment. Was he sure that this kid was his? I mean, they weren’t good at poker, had terrible luck in blackjack and roulette, and could barely understand the rules of craps. Craps! While he was lamenting the loss of possible gambling winnings, an idea hit Mammon at a thousand miles an hour.

“Hey kid, you’re damn good at math like your great and amazin’ father, have you ever thought about learnin’ how to count cards?”

Fancy outfits on, hair done (sorta), car ready, the two were off to the casino after quite the intense training montage. It appeared that casinos in the Devildom allowed children inside... Diavolo should really fix that.

“Okay M!MC, you remember what to do, right?”

“Yes. Remember the signal, and if someone catches on, deny deny deny.”

Mammon gave his kid a slap on the back. “Damn straight! You got this, bud.”

As the night dragged on, M!MC and Mammon had made their weight in money, paper money, they had made a SHIT ton is what I’m saying. Tragically, neither the Avatar of Greed or his child had any sense to leave before their luck crashed like the Stock Market in 1929.

They were both Icarus, and they were playing chicken with the sun... and by 3 am they were also playing chicken with security.

“GO GO GO!” Mammon shouted as he and M!MC sprinted towards the car, the night’s winnings in hand.

“I think I lost a shoe!” M!MC gasped as they scrambled into the car, security on their heels.

“I’ll buy you new shoes JUST PUT ON YOUR SEATBELT!”

Re-enacting every Fast and the Furious movie in twenty minutes was how that lovely night of father/child bonding should have ended... until they got home and realized they were locked out.

“The window to my room!” M!MC whispered, pointing up at their window. “It’s usually unlocked, we can climb up to get to it.”

“Good idea!”

M!MC tucked the bag full of their precious money under their arm and began the climb to their window, their father close behind. They had almost made it, they were so close, M!MC could literally touch the window-

The window swung open and the smiling faces of L!MC and A!MC greeted them.

“Oh my, it looks like we have some delinquents breaking curfew~.” L!MC cooed, resting their head on their hand.

“You shouldn’t be gambling this late! A-and your accessories don’t match!” A!MC huffed.

“Oi! L!MC, A!MC! What are ya doin’ up this late! It’s not good for ya!” Mammon whisper-yelled.

“My sleep schedule should be the least of your concerns right now, right A!MC?” L!MC elbowed A!MC, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yep! Those who break curfew are hung from the ceiling by their toes.” A!MC shuddered.

M!MC rolled their eyes and stuck out their hand. “Come on L!MC! Let us in! You should listen to your older cousin!”

Upon hearing M!MC pull the older cousin card L!MC smiled deviously, grabbing both of M!MC’s hands. “Of course, dear cousin.” They leaned in. “Long live the king!”

L!MC shoved M!MC downward, Mammon caught them, but lost his own grip and they both lost hold of the money, which fell out of the bag and onto the ground like snow. Paper snow...

Oh well, at least Mammon and M!MC landed in some of the bushes...

“Ya know,” Mammon said as the money fell around them. “I’ve had dreams where this has happened.”

“Wow,” M!MC smiled. “Me too!”

Yep. This was his kid alright.

Not all his father/kid time revolved around money, it also revolved around both of them trying to avoid horror movie night without making it look like they were chickening out.

“Okay, I’ll fake a medical emergency!”

“Kid, no! They’ll never believe that!”

Since A!MC had their father’s eye for fashion and none of the judgemental comments, the kid became Mammon’s unofficial style coach.

“U-um... I hate to say it but those shoes don’t match with the rest of the outfit, the silhouette is confusing...”

“What’re ya talkin’ about? I look fantastic!”

“Are you blind? You look like a thrift store threw up on you.”

“Who invited you, Asmo?!”

“I’m here to support A!MC! You’re doing great by the way, sweetie!”

He may have cried a little when M!MC was able to fly without help... sniffle... they grow up so fast...

Oh- oh fuck they both crashed into the tree-

Oh My God he Actually Showed Up?! (Levi)

That... that couldn’t be real life! A shut-in’s worst nightmare! More people he needed to talk to!

Considering Mammon and Asmo’s track record with taking care of his things, Levi was incredibly hesitant to invite the two to binge anime with him and L!MC.

It seemed that the two normies inherited their fathers’s level of respect for closed doors. What I’m saying is the two crashed anime night.

“I have never seen such bullshit before.”

M!MC’s hands were stuffed in about five pairs of socks each, effectively turning their hands into useless nubs.

“You be quiet! This is to make sure that you don’t take any of my things and try and sell them on Akuzon!” Levi hissed, turning back to make sure his figurines were safe from the mini Mammon. A!MC was standing awkwardly next to L!MC, who was sitting in Levi’s gaming chair reading manga.

“So what are we going to watch..?” A!MC piped up. “I haven’t really watched much anime but I did watch Digimon...”

“I was more of a Beyblade kid.” M!MC hit their sock-stumps together to make a thumping noise.

Levi looked like he was ready to have a stroke. “L-listen! Those are gateway anime! You two need to watch proper anime! Non-dubbed anime!”

A!MC let out a shriek and stared at their reflection in a very shiny looking gundam figurine. “Have I been wearing off colour lip gloss the entire day?! O-oh no... I’m a mess!”

Levi let out a strangled wail and snatched the gundam out of A!MC’s hands. “D-don’t touch that! It’s worth more than a house!”

“It is?!” M!MC perked up and tried to wrestle their way out of their sock-gloves.

“Don’t make me stick you in a straight jacket...” Levi growled. He turned to L!MC with a pleading look on his face. “Please make them stop...”

L!MC grinned deviously and closed their book. “Of course I’ll help you, if we watch season two of The Promised Neverland.”

Levi shrieked and nearly pulled out his hair then and there. “It’s manga divergent! MANGA DIVERGENT! THEY SKIPPED SO MANY ARCS!”

M!MC and A!MC continued to wreak both purposeful and accidental havoc on Levi’s room, he was just about ready to summon Lotan then and there when L!MC shrugged.

“The ball’s in your court, Levi.” L!MC leaned back in the chair and resumed reading their manga.

Levi’s willpower shattered the moment he heard something fall off one of his cabinets. “WE CAN WATCH WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST MAKE THEM STOOOOOP!”

Quick as a flash, L!MC was out of the chair and had both M!MC and A!MC by the ears.

“HEY!” L!MC growled. “STOP ACTING LIKE IDIOTS OR SO HELP ME GRANDFATHER YOU TWO WON’T LIVE TO SEE GRADUATION!”

M!MC and A!MC became the most well behaved children in the Devildom after that... and L!MC and Levi got to watch their anime in peace.

Okay, Levi wasn’t heartless, he loved his lame normie niblings. They were just very very loud...

Though, M!MC was very good at finding merch for way lower prices... and A!MC actually really liked some of the anime they watched... Maybe they weren’t so bad.

M!MC’s attempts to budget that financial dumpster fire of an otaku was not going well, at least until M!MC convinced Lucifer to dangle concert tickets in front of Levi like a carrot on a stick until he agreed to do his best to stay within the monthly budget.

Levi had learned his lesson from L!MC’s flying lessons and steered clear of them, but luck was not on his side. The ONE time he willingly stepped outside of the house...

Both M!MC and A!MC crashed right into him.

The Uncle With the Cat You Never See and Aren’t Really Allowed to Pet. (Satan)

Oh fuck him sideways the house was going to be so much louder... Say goodbye to his quiet reading time...

On the bright side, the look of pure disbelief and exhaustion on Lucifer’s face gave Satan the biggest rush of serotonin he’d ever had in his life.

To be honest, he got on well with Asmo, and he... well it’s Mammon.

Could have been worse.

Could have been ANOTHER child of Lucifer.

“So... who do you think did it?” M!MC asked as the opening to the fourth episode of the murder documentary they were watching began. “I think it was the sister.”

“On what evidence do you make that assumption?” Satan asked.

M!MC shrugged. “Chick’s shifty.”

“I um... I think they disappeared on their own accord.” A!MC murmured. “I mean, so far it seemed the two’s home lives sucked...”

“Good theory.” Satan nodded to himself. “But both of you are wrong, it was very clearly the mother and the neighbour.”

“On what evidence do you make that assumption?” L!MC asked, imitating Satan’s voice. Detective Toe Beans was sprawled out on their lap.

Satan glowered at L!MC and leaned over to scratch Bean behind the ears. “The step-mother and neighbour are backing up each other’s alibis and they have a motive, access to a possible murder weapon, and a way of disposing of the corpses.”

L!MC rolled their eyes. “That’s a load of crap. It was just the step-mother. The mother had the motive, she and the father were on the outs, she wanted the father’s inheritance all to herself so she got rid of his kids.”

“How many more episodes of this are there?” M!MC asked. “This seems like a really dragged out way of just saying: I don’t know.”

“Sh! They’re explaining possible corpse disposal methods!” Satan hissed.

The four of them traded theories until the documentary series eventually ended with an unsatisfying ‘we dunno’.

“This is such shit...” M!MC muttered. “How have they managed to fill eight episodes with all these leads and evidence and the case is still unsolved?!”

“It’s because everyone involved was incompetent and stupid.” Satan sighed.

“You know,” L!MC smirked. “With all the true crime stuff the four of us watch, we could create the perfect crime.”

“We really could.” M!MC nodded in agreement.

“Using A!MC’s powers no one would suspect us...” Satan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Uh...” A!MC shifted uncomfortably. “On an unrelated note... I’m going to go...”

As A!MC scampered out of the room, L!MC turned to Satan and M!MC.

“There’s always the one weak person in the group who’s not down with murder.”

“A sad truth.”

“Hang on I thought we were talking about theft or something-”

Satan and M!MC are surprising study buddies, hell, they even help Mammon study. Or... it’s more accurate to say that they try to help Mammon study.

A!MC is good company, they’re quiet when they read, unlike most people in the house who felt the need to provide commentary on every single event that occurs in the book.

After proving to be quite useless in L!MC’s flight lessons, he just reminded the two new half demons to wear protective padding.

The Hot Single Dad That’s In Every Romcom That Features a Child (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (excitement)

Oh... his... father... HE WAS A DILF NOW-

He practically vaulted out of his seat to coo and fuss over his new found hellspawn, they were just SO CUTE!

Their wings were just like his! So adorable! Oh and those little horns! They were so cute Asmo just might have combusted then and there.

Of course, he couldn’t combust without finding out which of his flings had made such an adorably shy mini-him.

“Ah! I remember that party!” Asmo squee-ed as he looked at a picture of A!MC’s parent. “They looked so hot in that outfit I swear I was completely-”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer grumbled. “That’s a child in front of you.”

“Oh! Right! Mind if I call your ren, A!MC?” Asmo asked, ruffling their kid’s hair. “I want to see if they remember me fondly!”

As Asmo chattered with A!MC’s parent about just how adorable and perfect their kid turned out, Asmo leaned over to A!MC to ask a question.

“A!MC, I know this is sudden but how do you feel about getting a sib-”

“ASMODEUS IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE I WILL FEED YOU TO CERBERUS!”

“Tsk. Rude.”

It’s safe to say Asmo adores his kid. I mean, they’re 50% him, how could he not.

He didn’t exactly have experience with the whole... being a big part of his kids’s life thing. Sure he held the unofficial record for most kids but that was because effective birth control hadn’t been invented at the time when he was allowed to run rampant in the human world, not because he was an A+ dad.

None of that mattered! He was going to be a 10/10 dad to A!MC!

They were so shy... so... mouse-like...

“Um... dad?” A!MC awkwardly twiddled there thumbs as they stood in the doorway to their father’s room. The sweet smell of whatever essential oil was being spread with the diffuser did next to nothing to calm the poor half-demon’s nerves.

Asmo popped his head out of his walk-in closet with a sparkling smile. “Yes, child of mine?”

“I um, just wanted to ask...” A!MC was desperately trying to stave off an oncoming stutter-spiral. “H-h-how- *ahem* how do- ugh...”

A!MC steeled their face and straightened their posture.

“How do I be confident like you?!” They blurted that out a little too loud for comfort, but Asmo’s near-immediate joy quashed any embarrassment A!MC was feeling.

“You want to be like little ol’ me?” Asmo gushed, clearly trying to hide just how flattered he was. “Well, of course you do! Your dad’s got your back. So first what we’re going to do-”

The Avatar of Lust had done the stereotypical early 2000s movie makeover many times before, but never with so much enthusiasm. His kid’s style was fine, it wasn’t a lack of pizazz either, it was the lack of confidence in the pizazz.

“Okay, now stand up straight.”

A!MC straightened their back as much as they could.

“Perfect! Chin up, shoulders back, and there you go!”

A!MC didn’t look too different on account that Asmo felt like their fashion sense was perfect, but dear not-old dad coached MC on a new walk, better posture, and Asmo filled their arms with about seven boxes of self-care supplies.

“What’s all this for?” A!MC asked, shifting the weight of the boxes slightly so they could actually see their dad.

“That, A!MC, is all the stuff you need to have confidence.” Asmo explained. “It’s not required of course, but it sure does help.”

“I’m not sure I follow...”

“Oh sweetie, it’s simple really. When you take care of yourself, you feel better, and when you feel better, you look better, and when you look better and feel better, your confidence skyrockets!” Asmo shifted some of the boxes A!MC was carrying around so they could stand up straighter and not be held down by the weight of the self-care arsenal. “Good posture stops your back from hurting, dressing decently helps you feel better about your appearance, as does taking care of your skin, aaaaaand all this will culminate in you being your best!”

A!MC still looked a bit skeptical, but they nodded anyway.

“Remember MC!” Asmo said as he led MC back to their room to help them sort their new stuff. “Confidence in yourself doesn’t happen overnight, so don’t let Mammon try and sell you a fix-all potion because it’s just boiled Gatorade.”

“O-okay- wait did you just say-”

“Yes, boiled Gatorade.” Asmo shuddered. “Let’s not talk about that.”

Dear uncle Asmo? A financial dumpster fire?! It’s more likely than you’d think.

Sure, Asmo’s got a job and makes his own money, but Geez Louise... one demon does not need that much hand cream! Or that many questionable Akuzon packages that everyone is too afraid to touch...

M!MC had their work cut out for them is what I’m trying to say.

Of course... once M!MC realized what a lost cause getting Asmo to stop with the obsessive bath bomb purchases was and a few too many insults were thrown at M!MC’s dear dad... some of Asmo’s things went uh... “missing”

But would you look at that! No one went over-budget!

Even though their dads have a fierce party related rivalry, A!MC and M!MC get along great. It’s very wholesome.

The Uncle That Helps You Pester Whoever is in Charge of the Food at the Family Reunion About Dessert (Beel)

Yay! More kids :)

Do you think any of them know how to cook? No? Okay... :(

Beel adores his new niblings with all his heart and soul, and Belphie’s out of the attic and is able to meet them with everyone else this time! Yay!

I didn’t mention this in the other parts- but Beel totally gave L!MC piggyback rides whenever they asked, but now that two more kids have arrived... it’s now a fight to be tall.

But yea- kids like uncle Beel. Strong contender for favourite uncle.

“Do you think this is right?” A!MC asked as they fiddled with the settings on the stovetop.

“No clue. Do we put the cheese on while the meat is cooking or do we wait until after?” M!MC asked, they flipped through multiple cheeseburger recipes on their DDD, their frustration growing. “Hang on- do we have a deep fryer?”

A!MC rummaged around the cupboards and shelves for a good fifteen minutes and came back empty handed. “No, but I’ve seen videos of people making fries without a deep fryer, I think we just need to heat up vegetable oil and drop the potatoes in.”

After setting up the make-shift deep fryer, the two cousins carefully dropped the first fry into the oil, then screamed like banshees when some oil splashed close to their hands.

“Did you get burned?!” M!MC asked, A!MC shook their head.

“No, you?”

“Nah...” M!MC eyed the oil warily. “We should do this one at a time to be safe...”

It was an awkward process, grab potato, place potato, scream, make sure no one is burned, repeat. As... decent as the process was, with both of them manning the deep fryer, no one was manning the patties that were now completely charred.

“What’s going on in here? It smells like Solomon’s cooking.” Beel poked his head into the kitchen and saw two very upset children and the world’s messiest kitchen.

“We’re failures. That’s all...” M!MC murmured.

“We wanted to make lunch for all of us and we ruined it...” A!MC added.

Beel’s heart was set to explode then and there- but his stomach growled. “You tried your best, don’t feel too bad. Let’s get cheeseburgers somewhere else with Belphie.”

M!MC and A!MC nodded enthusiastically as the three of them left the destroyed kitchen behind them.

After Beel had to sling a sleeping Belphie over his shoulder, the now four of them were halfway out the door before they heard L!MC scream bloody murder.

“YOU IDIOTS COME BACK HERE AND CLEAN THIS MESS UP RIGHT NOW!”

M!MC and A!MC made eye contact, then sprinted out the door. “CHEESEBURGERS FIRST!”

A!MC and M!MC probably go to all of Beel’s games like the little super fans they are. Beel is very grateful for the support! :D

Flying lessons? Nnnnnot again. He’s here for moral support and moral support only. And to catch the two babs when they inevitably fall.

The Uncle Who Was Like... Really Racist the Last Time You Saw Him But He’s Not Anymore (Belphie)

So he uh... he didn’t try and kill these two. That already gave the two newbies a better first impression than what he gave to L!MC.

The Anti Lucifer league ALSO grew, just by one member though. A!MC was very easily persuaded to snitch on whatever prank the group concocted.

The attic nap club gained two new members, but Belphie still had to deal with wings hitting him in the face and waking him up. He’d usually return the favour with a swat from his tail.

“M!MC I swear I will throw you out of the window if you kick me again.” Belphie murmured, mashing his face into his pillow.

“Mmmph.” M!MC threw a pillow in Belphie’s direction.

“Quit whining, Belphie.” L!MC huffed. “You’re doing better than me.”

A!MC had attached themselves to L!MC like a sloth to a tree and would not let go or stop drooling. Ah schadenfreude, the best feeling in the galaxy...

“Stop with that look.” L!MC hissed, Belphie snickered. “I’m telling you to quit it because you’ll wake up Beel, and Beel is solving your M!MC problem.”

Belphie turned to see Beel practically crush M!MC into a bone breaking hug in his sleep.

“Should we do something about that?” L!MC yawned.

Belphie smirked his little douchebag smirk. “Eh, let them stew for a few more minutes.”

“Help me...” M!MC rasped.

Out of the three, A!MC is probably the best nap buddy, they bring in their own pillows and don’t hog the blankets.

Belphie is once again at the forefront for taking videos of the flying lessons, at least till M!MC accidentally broke Belphie’s DDD.

Just a friendly reminder, the sleepy cow man would kill for these kids.

Look at them funny and no one will find your body.

Okay! That’s part 3 done! I had to cut Belphie’s and Satan’s short because of post limit stuff, but the stuff with the side characters is coming soon! Also, Mammon would like me to inform all those who donated to his Go Fund Me that you will NOT be getting your money back, he has a kid to deck out in full Gucci now, he needs the cash!

[nitw]

Can you explain what you mean with misinterpreting Chara? I've always been confused about that character and you seem to have a pretty solid read you alluded to in that post about Snowgrave.

of course!!! as your local chara defender since the ripe age of 13 i hope you don't mind me doing a small essay on this. please bear with me tho because i sometimes can't articulate my thoughts well on stories that deal with philosophical themes ;;

UHHH SPOILERS FOR UNDERTALE AND DELTARUNE CHAPTER 2 BELOW

first let me make a few things clear so i don't have to repeat myself a bunch:

only tobias radiation fox himself has The Word of God privilege when it comes to things that haven't been explicitly confirmed in the games yet, EVEN if they're strongly hinted at. don't take anything i say about the plot as more than firm personal interpretation based on the info we have right now!

i cannot stress this one enough: undertale is a game that was never meant to be experienced from a singular perspective/mindset. the genocide route doesn't JUST exist for the sake of "enjoy your personalized edgy fuck-you run for being a serial killer in a video game", every one of the total 93 endings (look it up) in this game exists to reflect the player who achieved it in one way or another. the genocide route is really no different from any of the others, because in the end, no matter what, the player who decided to go through with the things they did will ALWAYS be rewarded for it. the question the player will have to ask THEMSELF afterwards is "is this what i wanted?"

OK MOVING ON-

let's think back to the little but vital amount of info we have on who chara actually was, like, as a person. we know pretty much all of this due to 1) the tapes in the royal lab 2) asriel's additional dialogue at the end of true pacifist.

while we'll never really know why frisk fell into the underground, asriel tells us explicitly about chara's hatred for humanity, and how they jumped from mt. ebott for "not a very happy reason"; supposedly a suicide attempt. chara "never talked about why", it's left intentionally vague because their reasoning isn't really what matters. what DOES matter is how this is relevant to the genocide run, ESPECIALLY with the new obvious parallels in deltarune's snowgrave route. i'll get to that.

when you finish the genocide route, chara will talk directly to the player in person. they talk about your (you AND chara's) success, despite "their plan (having) failed". this "plan" is one they secretly made with asriel when they were both still alive, as revealed from the tapes. chara got terminally poisoned from eating buttercups (whether this was fully intentional or not is still kiiinda up for debate), and while on their deathbed, asriel says that he doesn't like the plan anymore. yet despite his fear, he still fused his soul to chara's when they died.

the actual plan here was to become a monster powerful enough to slaughter humanity, specifically chara's home village by their own dying request - this all ties into their mysterious spite and hatred mentioned before. but due to asriel's resistance against chara, their fused body was killed by the humans - which eventually led to the creation of flowey, and asriel's inner demons after death.

but back to the genocide route. during chara's monologue to the player, they give us a LOT of important exposition. basically:

at the very start of the game, frisk's own determination is literally what brought chara's soul 'back to life'. we know how human and monster souls are different and how "determination" in this universe is something only humans possess, so it makes sense why it awakened them. i won't get into the whole narrator theory because i feel like it's not that relevant to my point (it's fun tho), but chara is always present from the moment frisk falls down, and stays regardless of the player's actions.

if you managed to finish undertale at all you'll already kinda know this (thanks sans), but the EXP and LV you (can) gain throughout your journey aren't just numbers on your screen - they're genuine in-universe manifestations of power that increase when you kill someone. and in genocide, chara explains how they were directly affected every time your stats rose. they could FEEL their spirit growing stronger for every life you decided to take (REMINDER THAT THE GENOCIDE ROUTE CAN BE PERMANENTLY STOPPED AT ANY POINT BEFORE SANS. YOU DID THIS.), so is it really that strange that they felt the desire to grow even stronger?

and once you do reach this point, there's no return. all that excessive time and effort you put into killing off a civilization OBVIOUSLY has some consequences. the consequences HERE being - if you paid attention to chara's life story - you took advantage of a traumatized child who was already at the breaking point and making irrational choices on their own, and you led them to believe that this was what they needed!

this is VERY MUCH SUPPORTED by the snowgrave/weird/pipis/whatever route of deltarune chapter 2 that was discovered about 2 days ago as i'm writing this. i'm gonna go ahead and assume you know what happens in it and i don't care to go into details if you don't, since this post is about chara, but surprise: THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TO NOELLE, TOO! even in a completely normal run, noelle makes it clear multiple times that she wouldn't mind staying in the dark world; that in spite of how scary and dangerous it seems at times (something something horror movies), she started to feel at home. POSSIBLY even more so than her ACTUAL HOME, with her dying dad and negligent mom. like chara, noelle is a young person with low self esteem and her fair share of trauma, even if it's not as apparent. and like in the genocide run, the player's desire to ruthlessly kill in order to grow stronger affected her already-poor mental state.

someone else already pointed this out specifically, so don't credit me for it, but the main difference between chara and noelle is that noelle managed to break free in the end.

if you're like Most People Who Played The Genocide Route Back In Like 2016 and you played the genocide route with no further knowledge about it than "i have to follow these specific steps to get a harder fucked up version of the game", i don't blame you. you didn't actually know what you were doing in the end, did you? but did the outcome disappoint you, make sense to you, or did it just leave you with an empty/confused feeling? i love undertale because it WILL force you to think about things like that. i mean, if the result wasn't gonna affect you in SOME way, why would you go through all of that trouble in the first place? you had your reasons, as the player of any video game where you know your choices matter. would you have carried out the entire thing if you knew what was coming? the answer to that is only relevant to yourself.

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi

Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance

Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 12/14

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Сhapter 7

Сhapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

All his accounts went into trash. His books, phone and laptop soon followed.

His weapons – his trusty knife and favorite pistol – laid discarded on a floor. Next he happened upon an old, beaten toy – a monkey with its head almost torn off. It was the only thing that was left from his father, and, just for a moment he hesitated, debating if he really should throw it away.

Zeke looked at it, the edge of his vision swimming, and sighed, letting it join the pile of trash beside him.

In the end, parting with that toy was just as easy as parting with his father.

It was harder to discard another treasure of his – baseball glove, still white and soft even after all these years. If the monkey was a gift from his father, the glove was given to him by a man who had actually raised him.

Mister Xaver… I really fucked this all up, didn’t I?

He cradled the glove to his chest, taking some comfort in the feeling of its familiar texture beneath his fingers. As he held it close to his heart, Zeke knew that he couldn’t get rid of it. He wasn’t a sentimental man but that glove – it was the only thing in this world that he treasured.

Running his fingers all over it, he put it down on a floor and resumed his task.

The pile of trash grew, filling with papers, plans, blueprints. He threw it all away, a sort of satisfaction washing over him as he got rid of everything.

Maybe, it was his start of a new life. Prison was meant to change people, wasn’t it?

A dry, mirthless chuckle made its way past his lips, as he continued shifting through various, now meaningless documents, before a sudden bang that came from the first floor made him pause.

Zeke looked up, straining his hearing. The loud steps sounded on a stairwell. They kept approaching the room he was in, and their heaviness was worrying.

Whoever was looking for him, they were awfully angry.

The door to his office was thrown open, and Zeke turned around, catching the whirlwind of motion from the corner of his eyes. That was all the warning he got before he was roughly yanked up and his back met the hard surface of a concrete wall. His glasses tattered to the floor, the back of his head erupted in sharp pain and Zeke groaned, struggling to focus his eyes on the offender.

He didn’t need his vision to recognize him, though. The low, shiver-inducing voice of detective Ackerman was very hard to forget.

“Where is she?”

Despite the burning fire in his narrow grey eyes, despite his trembling fingers that gripped Zeke’s shirt so tightly that it was starting to tear at the seams, Levi’s voice was calm. And despite the burning fire in his narrow grey eyes, despite his trembling fingers that gripped Zeke’s shirt so tightly that it was starting to tear at the seams Zeke felt like it was simply calm before the storm.

The intensity of Levi’s gaze was making his stomach turn unpleasantly. Zeke tried to get out of the chokehold Levi had him in, but Levi merely grunted and further tightened his grasp.

“Where is she?” he repeated, shaking Zeke’s body like it weighted nothing.

What was the meaning of this, Zeke couldn’t even begin to fathom. Hange already asked him the same thing, what was the point of Levi repeating the question? Did he not trust her? Why did he come, and why he did it alone? Were they not in a hurry? Why were they wasting their time like this?

Zeke wanted to joke, wanted to smirk and rile Levi up a little more, but considering the state Levi was in… Perhaps, further riling it up would not end too well.

“I told your partner already, detective. I don’t know where your Petra is.”

For a second, Levi seemed surprised. His eyes widened and his hold on Zeke lessened. But it lasted for no more than a moment. Then his anger returned, more vicious than it was before.

“Don’t try to fuck with me,” he growled, absolutely wild. “Where is Hange? She came to see you, but didn’t come back. If you have done something to her…”

Zeke didn’t need to hear the end of that sentence. He was close to hyperventilating as it was.

“Hange left,” he said simply, hoping that Levi would believe him. If he wouldn’t… Zeke was afraid to think what Levi would do. He knew just how much Hange meant to him. He didn’t wish to know what Levi would do if any harm came her way again. “I don’t know what happened next, but she left this place unharmed. She was hurrying to meet with you.”

Levi let him go, as abruptly as he had grabbed.

“She didn’t come back…” he spoke feverishly, fingers clawing at his nape. “She promised but she didn’t, and if she isn’t with you…”

Zeke’s mouth fell open, as he stared at Levi. The detective he once perceived as cold and uncaring was now breaking in front of his eyes, his desperation so strong and urgent that he let even Zeke see this side of him.

His fingers twitched, the need to placate his enemy almost impossible to ignore. He thought if he should lay a hand on his shoulder, give him at least some semblance of comfort, but would Levi welcome it? Or would he slap his hand away and mock him for his sudden burst of empathy?

The latter was more probable, so Zeke stayed put, watching the unravelling scene with a sense of weak helplessness.

“Petra is missing too,” Levi continued, pacing around. “And it’s my fault, I was supposed to protect her, I have to get her back, but Hange… I can’t—” he took a shuddering breath, his voice wavering. “I can’t—”

“You can’t lose her for the second time,” Zeke finished, his soft tone surprising them both. “I can’t pretend to know how you feel,” he lost people before – first his mother, then his father, although that had been a result of his own choice and mistake, then Mister Xaver... But it didn't happen like this. There was no uncertainty, no what-ifs possible. Only crushing, overwhelming pain. But to have hope and then watch it get destroyed... Zeke could only imagine the agony it brought along. “Detective, I think I can help you in searching for her.”

Zeke didn’t quite know what had possessed him, what had made him say these words and look at Levi with a rare sincerity in his eyes.

Perhaps, he was tired – of always being the bad guy, of causing others pain and misery, of caring for only himself.

For the first time in his life, he longed to do good. To help and be kind to someone, even if that someone was his rival.

“I’ll help you, detective,” Zeke said, more sure this time. He picked up his glasses, put them on, and smirked, reveling in the dumbfounded look that had taken over Levi’s features. “We’ll get your partner back. I promise you.”

***

Petra naively thought that it couldn’t get any worse. She so foolishly thought that getting kidnapped, dragged and then tied up to a chair in some dark, smelly room was the worst of her nightmares.

But it wasn’t.

She realized the horror of it all only now, when she saw the body of unconscious Hange Zoe pushed down on a chair beside her.

If Hange was there, if she was injured and taken, then what had happened to Levi? What had they done to him if he had allowed them to take Hange away?

Just thinking about it made Petra tremble.

She was alone now, the two men had left, but the silence and the horrible, viscous feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next were slowly suffocating her.

Petra didn’t know how much time had passed, but Hange wasn’t waking up. The blood kept flowing down her face and her breathing kept growing more shallow, and Petra kept trying to stop her tears.

She didn’t want to cry, she wanted to be brave and strong, wanted to meet her end with her head held high, but damn it, she didn’t want to die. Not like this, not when— not when everything just started to come together. She had friends, a good job, someone who loved her… She didn’t want to lose it all now.

But she most probably would have to, and the realization finally broke her. Petra sniffled, a quick sob falling from her lips.

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered, not quite knowing what she was apologizing for or whose forgiveness she wanted to have.

She was sorry, though. For everything she was going to lose, for all things she didn’t get to experience. For…

“Oi, Petra…” the deep, husky voice made her jump. Petra turned her head to the side and nearly squealed, when she met the deep brown of Hange’s iris. “Cheer up, we aren’t done yet.”

“Hange!” Petra cried out, relief spilling even more of her tears. If she could, she’d run into Hange’s arms. Then again, if she could move, they wouldn’t be here at all.

“Are you alright?” Hange squinted, failing to take a good look at Petra without her glasses.

“Good, I’m good. And you?”

“Had been worse,” the grin was probably meant to make Petra feel better. But when Hange curled her lips up, she exposed her bloodied teeth, and the sight forced Petra to let out another sob. “Sorry,” Hange winced. “Can you move?”

Petra stared at her, confused. Didn’t Hange see that she was tied up?

“Your chair, can move it closer to mine?” Hange clarified. “Just an inch would be enough.”

Petra braced herself, curling her hands around the back of the chair. She bent her legs as much as she could, and then stretched them out, slightly lifting the chair and bringing it closer to Hange.

“Just a little more,” Hange asked, and Petra nodded, repeating the action.

“Excellent,” Hange praised, her voice kind. “Can you do another thing for me? Try to untie the knot on my hands. I think you’re close enough to do it.”

Again, Petra nodded, and set out to work. Unwrapping the rope proved to be a much harder task than jumping up on a chair, and on top of it all she couldn’t even see what she was doing, but Hange’s soft cheering encouraged her to continue.

She dug her fingers into the rough material, picking apart every thread with her nails. It took more time than Petra expected, but finally the rope fell onto the ground, and Hange chuckled, raising her now free hand to ruffle Petra’s hair.

“Good job,” she smiled so brightly Petra just had to smile back. “Now let me free you, and we can get out of here.”

“Okay.”

Hange’s fingers touched her bound hands, and Petra laughed, feeling incredibly giddy. Here she was crying because she thought that was the end, but Hange helped her, Hange saved her and now they were going to—

Her happy thoughts were interrupted by a sudden appear of loud footsteps. They sounded close, just behind the door.

Hange froze, murmuring a quiet, but vicious curse.

“Sorry,” she whispered to Petra, and then bolted up, returning to her previous position on a chair. She moved her hands behind her, making it look like they were still bound.

The door opened a second later, revealing the red-headed scary man.

“I see you’re awake now, Hange,” Floch smiled, swimming up closer. “I must say I quite enjoy seeing you like this.”

Hange said nothing, just grunted, as she watched the man move, approaching closer and closer. Her gaze grew more intense with every step Floch made, and when he was close, when he stood just beside Hange, looming over her, Hange let her lips pull into a smile. She sent Petra a quick, wicked look, and then launched forward, her fist raised up and ready. It connected with the Floch’s nose with a loud sound that made Petra smile too.

“I must say,” Hange said, holding Floch by his shoulders. “I quite enjoy seeing you like this.”

She didn’t give him the time to recover and dealt another blow, this one aimed at his abdomen. Floch bent over, curling onto himself. Hange raised her leg this time and kicked his knee, forcing him to fall over.

Floch hollered in pain and Hange hit him again, just to make sure he wouldn’t try to get up.

“Now where have we left off?” she turned to Petra with a smile that looked just a little too feral.

Hange crouched down next to her once more, returning to her bindings. Petra wasn’t the one, who was fighting just now, but the speed of her breathing increased, and she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from Floch, who was still curled up on a floor.

She prayed that Hange would get her out soon, but didn’t dare to actually urge her on. She didn’t wish for Hange to lose her focus, so Petra sat and she watched, picking up the smallest movements from Floch.

But, as it turned out, it wasn’t Floch she had to be afraid of. It was the other man, the one who wasn’t even in the same room with them.

Yet.

***

Oluo fixed the bulletproof vest for the tenth time in the last minute. It was squeezing his chest in an uncomfortable, suffocating manner. And the place, where the gun was resting inside a holster on his hip, burned him even through layers of clothes. The gun was still hidden, unused. For how long would it last?

Oluo cursed and looked up ahead, focusing on a wide back of Captain Erwin Smith.

“Sir?” Oluo approached him. “Should we start the mission?”

They had located the house, they had checked every entrance and exit and circled the whole perimeter. But Erwin still didn’t give an order to start.

“Five minutes,” he said, and Oluo couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Five minutes were dragging on for almost half an hour now.

“Sir…” he cautiously began. At any other day, he would never dare to argue with Captain. He wouldn’t even think about starting a conversation with him, but Petra was in danger, and fear and worry for her was making his head spin.

“I know,” Erwin cut him off. Despite his hard, determined face, his voice was quiet. Unsure. It made Oluo lower his eyes in shame. He was worried about Petra, but Captain didn’t feel much better. His two friends were missing too – detective Hange was first to disappear, and now Levi wasn’t answering his calls as well. “I know, we need to get going,” Erwin said. He glanced at his phone, sighing when he saw no missing calls or texts. “Five minutes,” he declared. “Five minutes and we’re going in. I promise.”

***

All of it was her fault.

If Petra was smart like Hange, if she was experienced like Levi, she would know that watching injured Floch was pointless. It was another man, the one she couldn’t yet see, that was an enemy she had to be wary of.

But she wasn’t wary, she was excited, filled with joy and relief.

And Hange was the one who paid for her mistake.

The man returned, but they didn’t saw him at first. Instead, they heard him.

The thundering gunshot shook the whole room, the bullet flying so close to Hange that only her quick reflexes had saved her.

The man raised his gun then, aiming it at her head. “You won’t get so lucky next time,” he spoke. His voice was deep, but not low, betraying just how young he actually was. “Sit down,” he ordered Hange.

Hange hesitated to comply, determination and anger making her face flush. And in that split second that she was able to observe that subtle change in Hange, Petra remembered what Sannes had once told her.

“She was hot-headed and reckless, and in the end, that’s what had gotten her killed.”

She didn’t believe it before, thought it was bitter words from bitter man, but she could see it now – he wasn’t wrong. After all, Hange really did die once.

She braced herself, moving her leg behind her. Preparing to attack, Petra realized suddenly, a helpless whimper escaping her lips. She wanted to stop her, wanted to beg her to follow the man’s order—

The second gunshot did it for her.

Hange grunted, bent over, pressing a hand to a growing blotch of red on her side, but didn’t scream. She swayed but didn’t fall, grabbing the back of a chair for support.

“I won’t repeat myself,” the man said and pointed his gun at the vacant chair.

Hange threw him a long, sizzling look. She straightened out and walked over to the chair, her steps slow, pained, but steady.

“Floch,” the man turned to his accomplice. “Tie her up again. And make sure you do a thorough job this time.”

Floch eagerly nodded, groaning as he pushed himself upwards. He roughly seized Hange’s hands, eliciting another pained grunt out of her, and pulled them behind her back, tying them up with a discarded rope.

“Seems like your luck has died out,” he mocked with a wide smile.

“We’ll see about that,” Hange spit the blood out of her mouth, just barely missing the tip of Floch’s shoe. She raised her head then, meeting Petra’s eyes. Her lips curled in a reassuring smile. “The help is on their way.”

“We won’t be here when they come,” Floch’s friend said. “And you,” he walked further inside the room, stepping into a light of a single lightbulb that now cast a long, flitting shadow. “You won’t be here either.”

The threat made Petra’s blood turn cold, but Hange didn’t seem just as affected. She tilted her head to the side, curiously studying a man in front of her.

“And who are you?” she asked. “I knew Floch was involved, but what’s your deal? What did Zeke do to you?”

“He ruined my life,” he spoke gravelly. “And now I’m going to ruin his.”

“Ruin your life?” in spite of his dark words and solemn mood, Hange scoffed. “You’ve got to be a little more specific, buddy. You’re not the only member of this club.”

The man came closer, pressing his fist to the fresh wound on Hange’s side. She choked and doubled over. The man grimaced and turned his head to look at Floch. “I thought you were exaggerating when you mentioned just how annoying she was,” he said, before returning his attention back to Hange. His green eyes darkened. “Zeke murdered my family. That’s all you need to know.”

Hange gasped, her remaining eye widening. “Murdered your family?” she stuttered, the gears in her head turning rapidly. “It can’t be… I thought it was but a rumor. But if it’s true… does it mean you’re Eren? Zeke’s little brother?”

“Eren Yeager…” Petra murmured, shocked to remember an old case file Oluo had shown to her. “The boy whose family was murdered. But… I thought that killer’s identity remained unknown?”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Eren hummed. “Yes, you’re right, Zeke wasn’t the one who killed them. But he was the one who gave the order to. And I’ll make him pay for that. I’ll make him suffer. Just as I did with the actual murderers.”

“Why not simply kill him then?” Hange questioned. “What’s the point of this whole mess?”

“Zeke didn’t kill me,” Eren’s curled fists trembled, as his eyes filled with righteous fire. “He simply ruined my whole life. I’m going to give him the same curtesy.”

“Zeke is going to end up in prison anyway,” Hange argued, her lips pursed. “Pinning another crime on him is pointless.”

“You were hunting him down for years, Zoe,” Floch spoke up. “You didn’t have much luck in catching him. Besides…”

“Besides, I want him to know it was me,” Eren said. “I want him to know that it was me who got him in prison.”

Hange’s lips curled up, as she lowly chuckled. “No one is going to believe you. Cops aren’t that dumb, you know.”

“Maybe, they aren’t,” Eren agreed easily. “But after they find two murdered detectives, they’ll be out for blood and they won’t really care who to pin this all on.”

“And Zeke will be their only suspect,” Floch smirked. “He has the motive, he has the means… Even the scene of a crime belongs to him. Or do you still not get it, Zoe? Just look around...”

Hange did, her jaw tensing, as the realization slowly kicked in.

“That’s right,” Floch nodded. “You’ve lost an eye here. Now you’re going to lose your life here too.”

His voice, so falsely sweet and friendly, sent shivers down Petra’s spine. She prayed once more, hoping that someone would listen. Hoping that they would be saved.

“Finish them, Floch,” Eren lazily waved his hand. “I’ll be waiting in a car.”

“With pleasure,” Floch purred, taking out his knife. The edge of it glinted caught the light, showing a brief reflection of Petra’s terrified face. That was the last thing she saw, before promptly shutting her eyes in fear.

***

Erwin stared right ahead, as time continued to mercilessly move on.

One minute passed, then two, three… Soon he’d have to give an order to move out, he couldn’t possibly waste any more time, yet still… Still he hesitated. He kept waiting for Hange and Levi to return, thinking that any moment now he would see Levi appear from out of the corner, a furious scowl on his face, as he dragged Hange along, complaining that she had made him make a detour and get her a cup of coffee.

But there was no sign of his friends, and the point on his wrist watch kept moving, and that meant he couldn’t wait any longer.

Just one minute of the five minutes he had promised to Oluo left, when they heard a loud sound, coming from a safe house.

With a shudder, Erwin recognized the sound of a gunshot.

“Sir?” Oluo looked up at him, his face turning even paler. “Should we—”

Oluo didn’t get to finish. Another gunshot sounded.

“We’re starting,” Erwin announced, his jaw set. “Spread the word, Oluo, and get ready.”

Oluo nodded, saluted and rushed to fulfill the order.

Erwin breathed in deeply, taking out his gun. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use it tonight, but if something went wrong, if someone hurt Petra… he’d have no other choice.

“We are ready, sir!” Oluo came back, panting. “Just say the word.”

“Let’s begin then.”

Another deep breath, and Erwin’s fingers tightened around the gun, as he took his first step forward.

Just as expected, the door to the safe house was locked, so he braced himself, angling his shoulder towards the wooden surface. Next to him, Oluo did the same.

“On a count of three,” Erwin warned. “One… Two…”

He never got to three.

“Wait!”

In the exact second that Erwin meant to finish the count, he heard a familiar voice. Not believing he was really there, Erwin turned around. And saw Levi running up to him.

As he had thought, Levi wasn’t alone, someone following right behind him. However, it wasn’t Hange.

It was Zeke Yeager.

***

The headlights turned on, the engine roared, and the car smoothly drove onto the road.

"So what do you think we should do?" Levi asked, keeping his eyes firmly on a road ahead.

What do you think, not what should we do... Interesting.

It was almost cute how much detective Levi tried to be in control now after he had lost it right in front of Zeke. A lesser person would have mocked him for that, Zeke certainly wanted to... But today he felt gracious enough and so decided to gift Levi with an illusion that his authority and dignity was still intact.

“The girl that went missing first - do you know when she was taken?"

"Her name is Petra,” Levi grunted, shooting him a disgruntled look. “And she went missing last night. It's been almost a day since we lost contact with her."

Zeke nodded, his hand moving to cup his chin. "Then we must hurry.”

“We found a place where they’re holding her,” Levi said. “Let’s head there first. Save Petra and then…” he trailed off, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “And then we’ll take care of everything else.”

There it was again, Zeke realized with confusion. That same irritating feeling, the same urge to give Levi some reassurance.

“Maybe, we’ll find Hange there,” he said. “And even if we won’t, she is smart. Strong too. She can take care of herself.”

Levi didn’t answer him, but his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched.

“There is no need to worry,” he took another attempt, this time meaning to lighten the mood. “She survived even me after all.”

The chuckle died out somewhere in his throat, when he glanced and Levi, and saw him looking back at him with murderous rage.

“Her eye,” he growled. “You will pay for that, Zeke. After this mess is over,” another furious glare, this time it was dark enough to frighten Zeke. He nervously shifted his eyes to the side, focusing on a sight of bright-lit streets passing by. “I’ll make sure you do pay for that.”

“I believe you,” Zeke murmured hoarsely.

“And I believe you,” Levi blurted out suddenly. “Open the glove compartment.”

Zeke did, albeit carefully. The anger disappeared from Levi’s voice. So did hostility. Now he sounded strangely amicable.

Inside the glove compartment was a gun. Zeke stared at it curiously, not quite knowing what to make of it.

“It’s Hange’s,” Levi mumbled like it explained anything.

“And?”

Levi huffed. “And you should take it. I don’t know what’s waiting for us, and I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to protect you.”

Well, that was certainly… a surprising turn of event.

“You trust me that much?”

Zeke honestly wasn’t sure if he would have trusted himself that much. And yet Levi…

“Hange trusts you,” Levi simply said.

Zeke gawked at him. Was it actually that simple to him? Did he have so much trust and faith in Hange that he was ready to put his own beliefs aside?

Something painful bloomed in his chest as Zeke pondered on it. He wondered what it would feel like – to have someone you could trust as easily as yourself, what it would feel like to know that there was someone you could share your everything with. Must be a truly elating feeling.

“We’re almost there,” Levi announced, taking a turn to the left. “Get ready.”

Zeke nodded and took out the gun, getting familiar with its weight.

“It’s Hange’s,” Levi reminded. “So take care of it.”

He honestly hadn’t expected anything else from Levi, so with a low chuckle Zeke replied, “Will protect it with my life, detective.”

Levi’s answer was a short, but unexpectedly soft grunt that made Zeke let out another laugh.

A horrifying in its simplicity thought came right after. Were the two of them bonding?

It should have disgusted him, but it didn’t. It was actually nice in its own, weird way.

However, Levi took another turn, and Zeke’s joyful feelings disappeared. He knew where they were heading now. His old safe house.

So they really were targeting him? But who these they were? And what exactly did they want?

Either way, he’d be able to unravel this mystery in a matter of minutes. For now, Zeke hoped that he’d stuck for the winning team.

Even if he hadn’t, though, it was good that Levi found him before the police had found the bodies of Hange and that Petra. He could only imagine what cops would do to him if they thought that Zeke killed two of their own.

Levi parked the car next to an old abandoned building. He opened the door, putting one foot on a ground. Before he got out, he turned back and fixed his hard eyes Zeke.

“I trust you,” he said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Zeke could only nod in reply. He wanted to say something else, but by the time he found his words, Levi was already out of the car.

Zeke took his first step towards Levi, when a loud sound – the unmistakable bang of a shotgun – carried around the empty neighborhood.

Levi froze, tensed and then started running. Zeke cursed and followed after him. To his shame, despite his long legs, he could barely keep up.

The entrance to the safe house was already within their eyesight. The building was surrounded by police from all sides. The best of the best, Zeke had no doubt about it.

The second gunshot rang not long after the first one, forcing Levi to run even faster. Zeke rushed after him, sweating and already out of breath.

When they finally got there, the police was ready to attack, their guns drawn and expressions determined.

“Wait!” Levi shouted as they approached.

As on cue, everyone turned their heads to them.

The blonde man on the front stepped forward, his features simultaneously showing relief and confusion.

“Levi,” he shifted his eyes from Levi to Zeke. “Where is—”

“I don’t know.”

“And him?” the man gestured to Zeke. “Can we—”

“Don’t really have a choice. He promised to help for what it’s worth.”

“Alright. Then let’s go. Ready, Levi?”

“Of course, Erwin.”

Oh, that was Erwin Smith? The myth, the legend of the city’s police? Zeke had to admit he was just as impressive in person as the rumors about him promised he would be. He would have loved to observe more of him, to see for himself if he was truly that charismatic.

Although, if he had people like Levi and Hange following him, then there was no doubt that Erwin too was an exceptional person.

Right now, however, Zeke had no time to dwell on it.

“Follow me,” Levi ordered, dragging Zeke behind him. They entered the building together, but when Levi headed to the first turn on the left, Zeke pulled him away.

“No,” he took his gun out and nodded to the long hallway. “You follow me, Levi.”

For a second, Levi hesitated, his eyes flashing. But then studied Zeke’s face, and whatever he had seen there, it had eased his distrust.

“Then lead the way,” he agreed.

The hallways of safe house were dark and quiet, but not for long. As soon as Erwin and his team had entered, the chaos filled every corner.

Zeke rolled his eyes, why did he even expect anything else from that bunch. Still, he would have preferred to approach it with as much stealth as it was possible. Who knew what their enemies would do if they find out that they’re done for.

If it was Floch who was involved in kidnapping, and he must have, since not many people knew about this place, then Zeke knew the room he would choose to stay. The same room where he had lost his calm and detective Hange had lost an eye. He led Levi there, but as they neared their destination, Zeke saw a shadow that ran to the back door.

He caught just a glimpse of the shadow’s face, but that was enough.

He looked just like his father. His baby brother… Was it really him who was out for his blood?

“Go,” he told Levi, already moving in the direction Eren had disappeared. “If there is someone in this house, they’re right behind next door.”

“And you?” Levi didn’t stop him, but he made him pause. However, his eyes showed no distrust this time. Only concern.

“I need to take care of something first,” Zeke said resolutely. “But I’ll be back.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Levi reminded him, and then let Zeke go.

Zeke watched Levi move forward, and then turned around, heading to the back door.

It was time he had a talk with his brother.

***

Levi didn’t know what he had expected to see behind the door Zeke had pointed him to.

He hoped to see Petra, preferably along with Hange, well and unharmed with their enemies trembling in a corner.

He was afraid to enter and come face to face with Petra, who was bleeding and injured.

He absolutely refused to think about finding Petra and Hange, but realizing that he was already too late.

What he didn’t expect after opening that door was to see Petra trembling and crying. He didn’t expect to see a man standing just a little to her left with a knife raised up in the air. He didn’t expect to see that knife be so close to Hange’s throat.

He didn’t really think before acting, his heart was beating a little too loudly for that.

“Police!” he shouted, raising his gun. “Drop your weapon!”

The man didn’t listen.

Levi’s first shot flew just an inch over the criminal’s head, getting stuck in a wall behind him. The man didn’t even flinch, he turned around just for a moment, long enough to show Levi his bloodthirsty smile.

Levi’s hands trembled, but years of training allowed him to claim a clear shot to the man’s knee all the same.

He yelped and fell down, but Levi wasn’t looking at him anymore. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Erwin and Oluo enter the room. Oluo rushed right to Petra, Erwin met Levi’s eyes and nodded, crouching beside the man Levi just shot.

With everything else taken care of, Levi ran up to Hange. Her face was covered in blood, her shirt too and she was missing her glasses, but when he kneeled down next to her, when their eyes met, she smiled and Levi could finally breathe again.

“You saved me…” her eye was shining so brightly, the edge of it brimming with tears. “I knew you would, Levi.”

The lump in Levi’s throat grew large, too large to swallow, so he simply nodded and went to undo the bindings behind her back, but his fingers kept shaking and the rope refused to give in. He cursed and tried again and again, until Erwin appeared beside him and gently pushed him away.

“Just make sure our Hange is alright,” he whispered with a gentle smile.

He did just as Erwin had told him, but when he looked at Hange again, saw all her injuries and wounds, he was overwhelmed once more. He felt so many things at once – relief, happiness, anger, fear, love. It all swirled around his head, making him dizzy.

What if he wasn’t fast enough? What if he didn’t listen when Zeke told him not to take the first turn or what if he didn’t trust him to go on his own and followed him outside? Just a second more and there would be no Hange. He’d be left alone, without her once again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive it for the second time.

“I’m fine, Levi,” Erwin must have already dealt with the rope, because Hange’s hands were now free and she outstretched them towards him, grasping at his shoulders to pull him closer. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, Levi could feel the blood sipping through her shirt and onto his jacket. Hange wasn’t fine, but she was here, with him, still breathing, still warm in his arms. He pressed her to him – desperate, but careful, and took a deep breath, filling himself with her scent. There was almost too much blood and sweat on her, and it was almost enough to mask her true smell, but Levi had still felt it.

He allowed himself another moment to get immersed in it.

“Don’t leave,” he said, not caring that he sounded like he was begging. “Please, don’t leave me again, Hange.”

“I won’t,” there were gentle fingers in hair, then soft lips on his temple. If he wasn’t so out of it, Levi would have been embarrassed. He was the one who was supposed to give Hange comfort right now. She was kidnapped and almost murdered. And yet… the one trembling and panting was him. “And even if I do, I trust you to always get me back home.”

A strong hand on his shoulder forced Levi to look up and pull himself away from Hange.

“We should take her to the hospital,” Erwin said, his face showing the same worry Levi was feeling. “I already called an ambulance. Would you like me to—”

“No,” Levi declined. “I’ll do it myself. C’mon, four-eyes,” he threw her arm around his shoulders and hooked his hand beneath her knees. “Let’s get going.”

Before he lifted Hange up in the air, he glanced back, searching for Petra. She was on the floor with Oluo clinging onto her. The poor sod seemed to be crying, and Petra curled around him, whispering soothing words.

God, and Levi thought he was pathetic.

Tightening his hold on Hange, he gathered her in his arms and slowly stood up.

“Oh no, have I died and gone to heaven?” Hange cackled, throwing her head back. “The great Levi Ackerman is carrying me in his arms…”

Levi rolled his eyes, hiding a smile. Seemed like Hange wasn’t that injured if she was already back to her insufferable self.

“Shut up or I’ll throw you to the ground.”

“Nah,” Hange claimed confidently, ruffling his hair as though to prove her point. “You won’t do that.”

“Absolutely insufferable,” he murmured, shooting Hange a dark look. It was ruined by a smile that he was fruitlessly trying to fight.

Hange smiled back and that’s how Levi knew – they’d be alright.

[thran-duils]

Lost In Zero Gravity (P.6)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Six) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,632 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: Drug use in this chapter specifically!

Part Five || Part Seven || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“You did not handle that well,” Tony said irritated, adjusting his suit as he settled back in the seat in the back of the SUV as the driver took off.

“Sue me!” Steve snapped. “She was a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, you were impulsive.” Steve gave Tony a pissed off look. “Really, it’s not like you. That’s my schtick. What’s up? What’s wrong?”

Steve chewed on his cheeks looking out the window. Tony leaned forward to try to catch his gaze. “Hey. Talk to me.”

With some difficulty, Steve breathed, “Cecile lost $200k on a bet.”

“What?” Tony asked, unable to mask his shock.

“Yeah,” Steve said throwing his hands out. He shrugged, giving a wry laugh, “She just texted me. Right before we got here. Fucking stupid.” He shook his head angrily, punching his thigh. His voice shook with his anger, “This is why I told her to stay the fuck out of gambling.”

“Fuck,” Tony said under his breath, tapping his fingers on his leg.

“Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right! That’s not chump change! You know, maybe if she wasn’t drunk half the time, this shit wouldn’t happen!”

Tony hesitated for a few moments before clearing his throat. “As terrible as that news is – because fuck me, I know that’s gonna dive into my funds too – but how about next time you’re already on edge, maybe let me know so I can handle the situation? Especially one as delicate as that?”

“I don’t need a damn lecture, Tony—”

“No, no, you do!” Tony interjected. “Do you remember what you just did? Grabbing Y/N like you did? Has it completely slipped your mind what recently happened? I mean—”

Steve hit the door and shouted, “Goddamnit, Tony, I know!” Happy eyed the two of them through the rearview mirror, gauging the situation. Tony shut his mouth, his eyes piercing Steve across the seat. Taking a shaky breath, Steve dug his fists into his legs. Calmer now, he said, “I know. I know. I’ll… apologize. Do something to make up for it.”

“Don’t let your marriage shit leak into this,” Tony told him firmly. Steve clenched his jaw and Tony said, “I’m fucking serious.”

<><><>

Tony was true to his word. He came back in the evening around 9:45pm, calling out for you when he closed the door. You were lying down on the bed and threw the covers back. Coming down the hall, you straightened out your top, smelling some hot cooked food.

You walked into the open kitchen, seeing he was taking food out of a bag.

“You eat yet?” he asked, not looking at you yet as he started opening containers. Without missing a beat, he went on. “Dumb question. I know you didn’t. Unless you just filled up on apples. Terence and Daryl said you didn’t order any groceries or food delivery. So… I got us burgers. My favorite.”

He was keeping an eye on you, that was plain.

Noticing you still had not come closer and he looked up, popping a few fries into his mouth.

“I like nightgowns,” Tony commented, running his eyes over your outfit.

You hesitated for a moment, debating about going back to your bedroom and slamming the door. You had had enough of their attitudes for the day, but Tony gave you a quick, playful smirk. He was just teasing. You relaxed, coming up to the counter.

“I like shorts. They’re comfortable,” you retorted.

“Hmm. The biggest tug of war for women. Sexy or comfortable. Well, it is your place so you can do whatever you damn well please, right?” He winked at you and dug back into the bag. “Got you some champagne. Thought we could celebrate your new place.”

He shoved your burger and fries towards you and went to the fridge. “Shit. We forgot ketchup. Good thing I asked for some.” He returned back to the counter and pulled some ketchup packages out of the bag, tossing them on the counter. The champagne bottle was back in his hands.

“Thanks,” you said picking up a few fries, eating them.

“Of course. Don’t want you to starve. Also… sorry about Steve earlier,” he said, popping the top off the champagne. He swiftly brought it up to his mouth to catch the overflow. He caught you looking at him and he shrugged. “Just thought I would apologize for him since he’s not here to do it himself.”

“Hmm,” was all you said as he moved past you to grab glasses.

Tony placed two glasses on the counter, his shoulder brushing yours. He poured two half full glasses and slid one towards you. You picked it up and he smiled at you.

“To your new place.”

“My new place,” you returned.

Glasses clinked and the two of you took a long drink.

Tony dug into his burger, taking a large bite. He let out a pleasured moan.

“Looks like you enjoy burgers more than sex,” you commented, picking your own up and taking a bite.

“That could be argued,” Tony admitted.

The two of you ate quietly then, Tony refilling your champagne glasses in between. He was making far more progress than you. You began wrapping up your burger but stopped under his gaze.

He eyed your half-eaten burger and your shoulders slumped, admitting embarrassed, “I did eat a couple – a few, actually – apples.”

Tony let out a sharp laugh, “Wow, you really are that stubborn. I’m impressed. Want me to put this in a Tupperware for you?”

“Yeah, okay.”

He went to work to put it in the fridge for you. “Seriously, order some food. Fruit is good for you but damn, you need some sustenance.” He turned back around, and his eyes fell on the champagne bottle. He shook his head and said, “I’ll put that in the fridge too. You can have that later. I do gotta get back home.”

“So soon?” you asked, pouting. If they wanted to earn trust from you, you knew the easiest way to do that was being as available as possible. You knew how to speak to men like them. “You don’t want to relax before you go back home?” You pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the counter, your breasts free.

“You’re trying to stall me,” Tony stated, pointing at you, finishing the last part of his burger. With a full mouth, he stated, “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your top back off the counter. Tony was there in a second though, yanking it from your hand. His lips crashed into yours, his hands roaming freely. You laughed against his kiss, pulling away. He tried to snatch you back, but you danced away, going towards the couch.

He shook his head following you, “You are really being a tease. And I am really full. I don’t feel like a chase.”

“Well, I’m only going over here,” you said gesturing at the couch behind you. “All you have to do is sit.”

His smirk was salacious, coming over at his own accord. He enveloped you back to him by the couch, pressing you up against the back. It shifted a few inches and you laughed, “You need to be careful.”

“I could tell you the same thing trying to get me riled up like you are,” he growled. He forced the two of you to walk around the back and the arm. He flopped onto the couch, freeing his dick from his pants.

Coming to your knees, you took him in your mouth. Tony chortled and it strangled as you sunk to his base, your tongue swirling. His hand came up to hold you there, bucking further into your throat. You struggled to keep yourself from gagging, relaxing as much as you could as he used your throat. His head brushed the back of your mouth repeatedly and you opened for his silken length until you could not handle it.

You gasped for air when you came back up and locked eyes with him. He nodded fervently, encouraging you. You licked at his tip, making him buck slightly. Another lick before you slowly swallowed him back down halfway, coming back up. His hand came to cradle you behind your head, his fingers pressing in to encourage you to go faster. You obliged him, your hand moving to play with his balls. He groaned against the sensation, bucking towards you.

Pulling away suddenly, you drew a disappointed sigh from him. Your other hand came to play with your sex that was already wet and ready; you loved giving blow jobs.

“Still no protection?” you teased.

“Fuck it, come on up here,” Tony gestured with both hands impatiently.

His cock slipped inside you, your arms hooked around his shoulders. He groaned loudly, throwing his head back. As usual, he did not leave you wanting. His hand came down to play with your clit when he felt he was getting close. You left him space to work, and he thrusted deep.

“Come on, come on, baby,” he panted.

He came down first, twitching. You forced his hand to your clit as he tried to relax, and he groaned but obliged you now. It only took a few moments before you came tumbling down after him. His hand fell limply to his side.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your foreheads touching.

He laughed, his hands coming back up to grip your sides and pull you closer. He kissed the tip of your nose affectionately. When he patted your ass, you took the hint and crawled out of his lap, standing bare in front of him. He took you in, smiling in approval.

“Dinner and sex. I knew this apartment was a good idea,” He said, zipping his jeans back up. He got up from the couch, straightening his clothes out. His eyes ran over your body again and he smirked briefly. “You just seem to know when I need release.”

“It’s kind of my specialty,” you retorted playfully.

Tony chucked you under the chin and then said, apologizing again, “I really am sorry about Steve’s outburst earlier. He has shit going on at home that he didn’t care to share with the class. He’ll get over it. Promise, sweetheart.”

“Hopefully with a better attitude the next time he visits.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Tony agreed.

You stopped him before he went for the door.

You shrugged sheepishly and asked, “Can… I get a pet? To keep me company?”

Tony stared at you for a few moments before shrugging in return. “As long as it’s a cat. I like cats. And you need to tell me when because there’s probably some stupid pet deposit and pet rent. Gouging you for every penny they can.” He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching yours. “Do I have permission to leave yet? Or do you have any other sexy schemes up your sleeve?”

You pecked his lips and said quietly, “The cat was the icing on the cake.”

He pecked you back and said, “Good. I’ll see you soon.”

<><><>

The next morning, you got out of the shower, wiping yourself down with a towel. Your robe was waiting on the counter and you wrapped that around yourself when you were dry, hanging the towel back up on the back of the door.

You froze then, hearing someone walk into the apartment, the door closing. You listened intently.

“Y/N, it’s me,” you heard Steve call from down the hall.

Relaxing realizing it was not an intruder, you tied the robe before leaving the bathroom.

Coming into the living area, you saw he was placing a bag on the counter. You approached cautiously.

“What’s… is something wrong?” you asked. You only asked because it was 7:30am.

Steve shook his head moving towards you and you faltered, shrinking away from him slightly. He stopped, exhaling sharply. “No. Nothing is wrong,” he said tightly. “I brought you breakfast. Tony said you hadn’t ordered groceries yet. It’s waffles and eggs.”

He turned away from you, going towards the cupboard to grab a plate. He started serving you up a plate and you came up to the counter, watching him. He fetched you silverware and pushed the plate towards you before making himself up a plate. He looked like he had barely slept.

“Thank you,” you told him.

Before he even took a bite, he apologized, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to act like I did yesterday. I felt like shit about it afterward, not that that excuses it. But really. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to get physical. I don’t have an excuse for that. Especially knowing your past.”

You did not actually expect him to apologize for it; that was new. And he seemed sincere. You swallowed the waffle you were chewing slowly. You shrugged, “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not but I appreciate you saying so,” Steve returned.

You took another bite and then asked, trying to extend an olive branch, “Wanna watch something while we eat?”

Steve gave a little laugh, “That’s… that’s actually what I came over here to do.” You furrowed your brow and he explained, “Just wanted a calm place to veg out and watch some TV. I thought here was better than other places right now. Choose something.”

“Fine,” you said, holding up one finger. “Broad City. It’s based in NYC and it’s about two girls in their twenties who just have crazy ass adventures. Or,” you emphasized, holding up two fingers. “What We Do In the Shadows. Also, NYC but it’s vampires. But it’s The Office style.”

“I just finished that,” Steve said.

“It’s a classic.”

“So I was told.”

“Did it live up to expectations?”

“Sure did.”

“So, do you want comedy one with two girls that’s super cringe but hilarious. Or four vampires – one is an energy vampire, not traditional – but it’s also cringe?”

Steve contemplated for a moment and said slowly, “The girls.”

“Of course you pervert,” you said, smirking, picking up your plate and moving towards the couch.

Steve followed you, sitting on the couch beside you as you pulled it up on Hulu.

You started him proper on the series premiere and the two of you ate, Steve going for a second plate. The man could eat. He was actually enjoying it and you made it through three episodes, plates long discarded on the coffee table, before he leaned back on the couch, looking tired.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well. The food isn’t helping either.”

“That’s called a food coma.” He chuckled at that and you said, “I’m serious. I have it happen all the time.”

“I’m probably gonna pass out,” Steve admitted.

“I’ll be quiet,” you assured him.

He patted his lap, and you cocked an eyebrow. He beckoned you and said, “You can lay here with me and be quiet.”

You had had this happen before – it was rare, a man just wanting to cuddle with you. But you did as he requested, lying your head on his thigh. His arm laid across your chest, his fingers delicately playing with your side. The episode rolled on and at the change in episodes, you heard him softly snoring. You did not dare move. Truth be told, you had not slept well either and you ended up dozing off too.

<><><>

You awoke to the jangling of keys. Groggily, you sat up, your movement stirring Steve from his slumber. You blinked, seeing Tony walking into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind him. He was carrying grocery bags and he stopped for a moment, eyeing the pair of you, before he went to the island, putting the bags up on it.

“Taking a nap already? It’s only noon. Which means lunch time. Good to see you have actual food here,” Tony commented sarcastically, gesturing the bags he brought. He began putting things away in the fridge and cupboards.

You stretched, saying, “I just need someone to cook it for me. I’m tired right now.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’ve tried to cook food for the missus, and she’s blacklisted me,” Tony responded, much to your amusement. “How about we order French? That’ll be safer. I’ve been craving escargot.”

“Ew?” you said, lying back down on Steve’s lap, and Steve nodded in agreement.

“Oh fuck off, you both like clams,” Tony called over his shoulder.

“Clams are not the same as snails,” you pointed out.

“They’re just land clams.”

Steve and you locked gazes, the two of you frowning at that statement.

“Shit, he’s right,” Steve admitted.

“You’re goddamn right that I’m right. Just because the two of you are uncultured swine,” Tony said, coming around the couch and gesturing for you to lift your legs. You did as he asked and he sat down, pulling your legs back over his lap, his cell phone in hand.

“Is there linguine at this escargot place? Because I’ll take that,” you offered. “Shrimp. Specifically.”

“That’s Italian, Y/N,” Tony replied, scrolling through his phone.

“Then can we get Italian?”

Tony shot you a look but smirked quickly after. “You got it,” Tony stated, his thumb pressing on something on his phone. He was ordering real time.

“Breadsticks…?” you ventured.

Steve nodded, “Yeah, those too. And I’ll take spaghetti and meatballs.”

“You’re just… boring,” Tony muttered but he went to work anyway to order the food.

You stretched out your limbs and rolled back onto your side to grab the controller for the console. You pressed play on the show again, cuddling up amongst them, anticipating the food. It was weird for sure, relaxing like this between them. But they had got you here in the first place and all you could do was follow their lead. It felt intimate though.

<><><>

Tony left midafternoon after the food had settled, claiming that he had taken a long enough lunch break, leaving you and Steve again.

You walked back from the bathroom, finding Steve standing next to the window and the unmistakable smell of weed emanating from where he was. He heard you walking up and turned back. He saw you staring at the lit joint in his hand and he shrugged sheepishly.

“I don’t have anything to do today,” Steve responded, taking a puff off the joint.

“Isn’t there a no smoking policy?” you inquired, coming closer. “And can’t you not get drunk?”

“The window’s open,” he said gesturing at the open window. You smirked and he shrugged, holding it out to you. “You want a hit? And alcohol acts different in the system, dove. THC definitely does the trick for me.”

You closed the distance to him, taking it from him and wrapped your lips around it sensually, taking a long drag. You held it in before exhaling slowly.

“Professional,” Steve smiled.

“In a lot of different things I suppose.”

You held it back out to him, your other hand came down, running down his chest, caressing.

“You seem on edge,” you whispered.

He smirked, taking the joint from you. “That’s what the weed is for.”

“You sure I can’t help?”

His eyes flashed at the insinuation, taking another long drag. He exhaled his smoke out the window in rings. He held it back to you and you took another hit. He looked around and you followed his gaze. “Shit,” he muttered. “Wanted to save half for later. Didn’t think that through without an ash tray.”

You left him to finish it, going to grab a glass bowl out of your cupboard. You held it out to him, and he rose his brows. You shrugged, “What? I can put it through the dishwasher.”

“I suppose,” he admitted, coming over and gently putting it out. You placed the bowl on the counter as he said, “But, yeah. You can help since you mentioned it.”

Steve picked you up, your legs wrapping around his hips. You loved how strong he was, that was a perk. His kisses were ravaging, sucking earnestly at your jawline, neck, and lips as he carried you down the hall to your bedroom. He tossed you back on the bed and crawled on after you. He was earnest, his touch desperate. He was kissing every part of your body that he could.

The two of you undressed each other, tousling around on your comforter. Steve entered you with ease, the two of you lying on your sides. He nipped at your earlobe as he drove himself up into you, his hand caressing and squeezing at your chest.

You ended up on your knees, his hand pressing at the small of your back. You arched your back for him, letting him dive deeper.

“Just like that Cecile,” he grunted, his thrusts becoming shallower as he got close to release.

That drug you from your high immediately.

Who the fuck was Cecile?

You lost the rhythm and Steve came without you, his hands gripping you tightly.

He rolled off of you, breathing heavily. It did not seem to register with him what he had done. It was not the first time a man had called you by a different name mid-sex, but Steve had never.

Pushing past the disappointment of not coming and the uncomfortableness you felt, you turned over and he drug you to his side, holding you there as he steadied his breathing. Your hand laid on his chest, rising and falling with his breath.

“That was good, dove,” he exhaled, looking relaxed. His eyes were definitely red, high as a kite. “I think I might actually get some good sleep.”

“That’s good,” you said softly, tracing slow circles on his chest. You hoped you would fall asleep quickly too to avoid overthinking about what had just happened.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

[regrettablewritings]

Hopefully I got here in time! If I did, could I please request some general headcanons from the headcanon thing for Clark kent please?

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?: You both did, in a way. Much like with his water-breathing Atlantean colleague, the two of you respectively just seemed to seep into the position of dating. Unlike Arthur and his partner, however, you and Clark were much more aware of the path you were taking. It was more or less just quietly agreed that this was what you both wanted. After all, there are only so many dates, so many texts, so many late-night phone calls (due to both of Clark’s schedules), so many homemade dinners, so many coy smiles, so many walks to the park, and so many initial brushings of the hand-turned actual hand-holding that two people could do until it becomes obvious that there’s a desire for a more openly romantic relationship. However, because you and Clark are very private people, it still made either one of you blush whenever one referred to the other as their significant other. But other than that? The transfer from acquaintances to friends to romantic partners went surprisingly smoothly, given that neither of you is one to make a fuss.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?: If you consider the apology dinner you treated him to, then yes, you did have a first date. Granted, first date or not, it was a rather awkward one, given that you were still vibrating with embarrassment and guilt for nearly getting him killed. You were more than thankful with Clark’s patience and gentle nudging towards other, better conversation topics besides how sorry you were for your conspiring. Otherwise, it’s hard to plant the title of First Official Date on anything the two of you have done together because of the near seamless manner with which you both fell into the relationship. The closest you could get to an anniversary was just the day you called him your boyfriend out loud and even before that, it was mainly just an unspoken understanding. Not that either of you particularly mind it: No amount of trips to the park for ice cream or visiting the local sculpture garden could ever replace the uniqueness of dinner in a restaurant courteously rented out by one of the richest men in the world. All because he tried to, at one point, kill one member of the party while the other member helped him do so.

What was their first kiss like?: You like to joke that you had two first kisses: You had a first kiss with Clark, and you had a first kiss with Superman. And both were about as anyone would expect from either figure, if they didn’t know that they were one and the same. While the shyness of his civilian form was more so an act Clark put on, he’s still not necessarily the coolest cucumber in the barrel. More like a cucumber whose consistent gentlemanly behavior means that taking the initiative to kiss a gal will probably not go too smoothly. Of course, he meant for it to play out as they do in the movies: It’s during an impromptu movie night at your apartment. Originally, he had just been invited over for dinner but at one point the conversation topic turned to movies and he mentioned not seeing one of your absolute favorites. He didn’t mind you gently tugging him over to the couch to watch it; how could he mind spending more time with you? And the moment was perfect: You were relaxed, leaning against him, the tone being set on the screen was mellowed and quiet . . . Even in his usual hesitancy for such an occasion, Clark knew that the time was right . . . Unfortunately, his glasses didn’t get the memo, judging by the way they clashed with your forehead. But technically, the kiss made its landing, however sloppily. You still found it cute, giggling as you gingerly removed the eyepiece to try for a much smoother, more expected kiss. You spent the entire rest of the evening feeling as though you could speak bubbles and butterflies into the air, feeling like a schoolgirl all over again. Maybe he’d learned better by the time the “Super Kiss” happened? Maybe just being Superman instilled him with a sense of confidence? Whatever the case, it was certainly a 180 -- down to the fact that you were literally walking on air. You thought he was joking when he offered to take you out flying one evening. But as you found yourself clinging desperately as you rose high above the ground, you realized you were dating a complete mad man. The entire while, you were zig-zagging between spewing curses and keeping your mouth closed to keep bugs from flying in. Hell, in your frantic state, part of you debated on whether or not you wanted to stay with him for pulling this type of crap. As far as you knew, Clark wasn’t telepathic. But then again, maybe he was: His abilities seemed to be infinite and increasing in numbers by the day, and maybe that might’ve explained why, after flying to the bay, he came to a stop. Just long enough for you to register everything, but differently: The breeze was gentle, and the air carried that aquatic quality that all freely-running water does. In spite of your fear, you couldn’t help but feel compelled to crack your eyes open just for a bit. Just to see what it looked like . . . You did not regret it: Who knew that hovering above the bay could allow you to witness such a gorgeous sunset? Clark, apparently, as he wasn’t as focused on it as he was your reaction to it. The obvious amazement in your expression told him all he needed to know: That you were impressed, that you forgave him, and that you were in a much better mood with this once-in-a-lifetime scenery before you. In short, he would’ve been a fool not to take advantage of the mood. Even if you weren’t floating high above the water, the way the romanticism of it all zapped through you could’ve made you shoot to the sky all on its own.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?: He was the first non-human you’ve ever dated, so that’s got to count for something.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?: Clark stands at the handsome height of 6′1″, so apply that as necessary.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?: It should go without saying that Martha adores you. She admittedly might’ve been unenthused after learning about your part in the plot to kill Superman, but you had long since made up for it. (Not even the distance between Metropolis and Kansas could stop you from delivering an apology basket of fruits and candies to her. In person.) You’re smart, you’ve proven yourself to be loyal and loving, you won’t endanger her son again, and you own up to your mistakes; she’s proud to have you dating Clark. Meanwhile, your family hasn’t had the chance to meet Clark in person due to “your job keeping you in the city constantly”. However, the video calls have been going well enough for you to confirm that your family adores Clark. And how could they not: A handsome, strapping young man who treats you well? They’d take twelve if they could! Sure, he’s a little more demure than the usual guys you introduced them to, but maybe that’s a good thing: They’d never seen you this happy with past boyfriends. If you two were to even so much as go on a break, you would probably be hounded about how you didn’t lock him down! The only downside is that you’re in a constant state of anxiety that they might notice that your delightful boyfriend bears an uncanny resemblance to the red-caped alien who’s always zooming around, trying to save people.To your knowledge, they haven’t caught on yet (thank god for dodgy Wifi and pixelated video calls). But just to assure they don’t, Clark makes sure to come off especially shy, mussy up his hair just a bit more, and unfix his posture.

Who takes the lead in social situations?: It’s like a card trick, because many would assume it’s you 25/8, given how shy Clark comes across. But the reality is that Clark is more than capable of taking the lead in many situations. Sure, he’s tall but to most people, that just makes him a tall pushover: He’s still sheepish and clumsy and constantly slouching. Or is he? For one, those baggy clothes hide those muscles of his, which keeps many aggressors hassling you from knowing that he can possess a pretty firm and potentially devastating handshake. And for another, his ability to appear unassuming means that nobody knows for sure if he’s being passive aggressive or not, but many would rather not take the chance. Even in more positive situations, though, Clark will sometimes let his public confidence from the Superman persona seep through. Just to assure nobody gives you grief over anything. But for the most part, so long as neither of you can sense any injustices or anything directed at you specifically, it’s understood that you’re more than capable of handling things. Though don’t be afraid to ask him for help if you need any: Clark is more than happy to help!

Who gets jealous easier?: Neither. Clark isn’t the jealous type. And although you know Clark is a catch, nobody else necessarily seems to, much to your constant confusion. He’s sweet, he’s handsome if nerdy, he’s smart, he’s caring -- In a bizarre twist, you wished more people saw him as you do! He’s definitely a partner to get jealous feelings over. Some days, you just want to scream from the rooftops what an absolute babe Clark Joseph Kent is but at the same time, that might mean more people discovering his alias. And besides: You don’t have the super powers necessary to fight everyone off of your boyfriend. So for now, he’s your sweet secret. Frustratingly perfect as that is.

Thank you for your patience!

[milfjensenackles]

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

2k words | read it on ao3

Cas and Sam sat together in the War Room, attempting to drown out Dean’s screams with tense bursts of conversation.

Sam located Dean a few days ago after discovering that Crowley turned him into a demon. Dean was less than happy to leave Crowley behind for the bunker, so Sam ended up knocking him out and carrying Dean’s limp body to the Impala. Once he’d collected his brother, he called Cas for help. Cas was pissed, to say the least.

“How could you let this happen to him, Sam?”

Sam placed his head in his hands. “I thought he was dead!”

Cas folded his arms across his chest, still angry. He wasn’t really angry at Sam, though. He was angry at himself for not stopping Dean from taking on the Mark of Cain in the first place. All of this could have been prevented.

“Cas, I think the demon cure might kill him.” Sam said, choking up at the thought. “There has to be another way.”

Cas felt a chill run down his spine. Sam was right. “There is… one thing I can think of, but it’s very old magic. There’s no way to know if it would actually work.”

“Well? Spit it out!” Sam was becoming increasingly frustrated.

“True love’s kiss,” Cas said tentatively.

Sam’s eyes narrowed, his face incredulous at the suggestion. “There’s no way that’s actually a thing. And even if it was, who would Dean’s ‘True Love’ even be? Cassie? Lisa?”

Cas shrugged. “I hardly think it could be Lisa, Sam. Dean had me erase her memory.”

Sam huffed at that. Dean hadn’t been romantically interested in anyone in years. He barely even tried to pick up women at the bars they stumbled into after their more difficult cases. Dean hasn’t had a long-term relationship… pretty much ever. The only people he has a consistent relationship with are Sam and his best friend… Cas.

“Cas,” Sam said quietly, “What if… what if you’re Dean’s true love?”

Cas was stunned into silence. There’s no way it could be him. At the very least, Cas knew Dean wasn’t attracted to men. “Sam…”

Sam cut him off. “No, wait a second. Hear me out. You two have been through literal Hell and back for each other. You’re always obnoxiously staring at each other – and don’t try to deny it, I see the way you look at him. You care about Dean more than all of those angels. More than most other humans. You refused to kill Dean, even if it meant losing their support. Does all of this ring a bell?”

Cas was staring off into space, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sam was more observant than Cas had realized. Cas has known about his feelings for Dean for quite some time now. He still had trouble understanding them, though. Sometimes it was overwhelming, how much he cared for Dean. It felt like he might split open with the weight of his desire. Angels weren’t supposed to feel that way, especially about a human, so Cas pushed it away. A problem for another day. He supposed today was that day. Cas shook his head. “What about you? You are his brother. Maybe a kiss on the cheek from you would suffice.”

Sam tossed the idea around in his head before nodding. “Okay. We’ll try that first. But Cas, I’m serious. We’re running out of options here.”

Cas grimaced, but slowly nodded in agreement.

-

Sam and Cas made their way to Dean, prepared for the worst. What they weren’t prepared for, however, was an empty room, with Dean’s chair kicked over and his restraints undone. Sam and Cas looked at each other, mouths open in an ‘O’ shape.

“Fuck,” Cas swore.

Sam nodded. “Agreed.”

Cas and Sam split up, covering each corner of the bunker to try to sneak up on Dean. Cas ended up in a back hallway, praying to whatever might be listening that Dean was still in the bunker. As Cas rounded a corner, his prayers seemed to have been answered, as he runs right into Dean’s chest. The last thing Cas sees is blackened eyes before he’s slammed up against a hard surface.

Dean smirked at Cas. “Aw, the little angel thought he might stand a chance against me. That’s cute.” Dean slid the angel blade out from Cas’ hands, which were pressed above Castiel’s head now. Dean leaned in, only a millimeter from Cas’ face. Cas looked from side to side, hoping to find something that might help him out of his unfortunate position, but Dean had Cas pinned against the wall. Cas was out of options. He had to at least try, didn’t he? For Dean. Cas mustered all of his strength and pressed forward, attaching his mouth to Dean’s. It was clinical, almost. A simple press of lips. And then as soon as the kiss had started, it was abruptly ended by Dean pushing Cas off of him.

Cas slid to the floor, relief flooding him. Cas looked up at Dean. Dean had his hands pressed to his knees as he leaned against the opposite wall. He looked down at Cas, seemingly bewildered. “What just happened?”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Dean?”

“Hey, Cas. Why do I feel like I just got the shit kicked out of me? How did we get here? Why are you on the floor?” Dean reached out to help Cas to his feet.

Cas was speechless. He floundered for a moment, looking for the right words, before deciding to turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving a confused Dean behind him.

-

There was a knock at Cas’ door. He stiffened immediately, not looking forward to a conversation with either Winchester brother. Sam stuck his head in. “Were you gonna tell me you figured out how to fix Dean? He just walked up to me and asked about getting some pie and I almost fell out of my chair.”

Cas sighed. “My apologies, Sam.”

Sam moved to sit next to Cas on the bed, waving away Cas’ apology. “Whatever, dude. How’d you do it? Was it a spell?”

Cas debated his answer in his mind. If he told Sam, Sam might tell Dean, which would be humiliating. If he didn’t tell Sam, Sam would become suspicious of him. Before Cas could respond though, Sam took his silence as all the answer he needed. His face lit up with understanding. “You didn’t.”

Cas held his hands up in an attempt to stop Sam from saying anything more damning. “Sam, please. I don’t want Dean to find out.”

Sam looked confused, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Why not? This is incredible! You two obviously both have feelings for each other. Now you can go for it!”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I cannot simply ‘go for it’, Sam. I took advantage of Dean during a moment of weakness. He has no idea that I was the one who saved him, or how I managed to save him. It should stay that way. I don’t want to ruin our relationship. It’s Dean. He means too much to me to lose him.”

Sam seemed to ponder this information for a moment, before saying, “I think that’s all the more reason to tell him the truth.”

With that, Sam left Cas alone to his thoughts.

-

A few days, Cas was sitting in the kitchen with Sam when Dean rambled in, hair mussed and eyes bloodshot. Cas gave Dean a small smile, which Dean noticed and returned immediately. Cas had been avoiding Dean for the past few days, but luckily Dean didn’t seem to notice.

“How are you, Dean?” Cas asked.

Dean sighed. “Still not a hundred percent, but that’ll happen with demon possession.”

Dean winked at him. Cas felt his heartrate increase, the memory of their brief kiss still haunting him. Sam looked between his brother and Cas, a knowing smile on his face. Cas gave him a warning glare. Unfortunately for Cas, Dean saw this exchange. He pointed an accusatory finger between the two of them. “Are you guys fighting?”

Right as Cas said “No!”, Sam interjected with a louder “Yes, actually.” They both turned to glare at each other again.

Sam held up his hand to stop Cas from saying anything else, before leaning toward Dean to explain. “Cas and I had a… disagreement yesterday.”

Dean sat down across from the two of them. “Lay it on me.”

Cas tried to interrupt, giving Sam a pointed look. “Dean, you don’t want to listen to this. You’re still exhausted.”

“No, Cas, I think it would be good to get Dean’s perspective,” Sam smirked. “So get this, Dean. Cas here did something to a friend who needed his help. This friend might not have survived without Cas stepping in. Cas won’t tell this friend though! I think Cas should tell him. What do you think?”

Cas was furious with Sam and let him know with a single look. Sam looked slightly admonished, which satisfied Cas. Dean, however, was ignoring all of this to ponder what Sam had said. “I think you should let your friend know, buddy. They’d probably appreciate it.”

Sam clapped his hand on Cas’ shoulder, standing up from the table. “See, there you have it, Cas! I’ll leave you two to it.”

“What friends do you got that I don’t know?” Dean asked once Sam was out of earshot.

“None,” Cas responded through gritted teeth.

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together like he was doing mental math that didn’t quite add up. Cas could only imagine it: ‘If 1 + 1 =3, then Sam must be talking about Dean.’ This was the worst day of his very long life. Finally, after many excruciating moments, Dean spoke up again. “Was Sam talking about me?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean.”

“Is that why you’ve been so cagey about the whole demon thing lately? What did you do? Should I be concerned about some weird angel mojo thing goin’ on inside me?”

Cas sighed. “No, Dean,” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “Sam and I were running out of ideas. We had to save you. I knew of only one way to do so. It is known as ‘True Love’s Kiss’. We were going to have Sam try it out by kissing your cheek, but you escaped. You located me first. I thought you might kill me, so… I had to try, Dean. I hope you can forgive me.”

Dean stood up abruptly, shocked by the information he’d just received. Cas didn’t know what to do, so he stayed seated, uncomfortably waiting for Dean to react. Dean walked over to where Cas was seated, staring at him with a complicated look on his face. Cas couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He didn’t have time to wonder, though, because Dean fisted his palm into the lapel of Cas’ trenchcoat and pulled him out of his chair, covering Cas’ mouth with his own. Cas immediately responded in kind, his hands moving to run through Dean’s hair. Dean’s tongue swiped across Cas’ bottom lip, and Cas gasped, which allowed Dean to better explore him. Dean’s hands travelled down Cas’ sides to his hips and pulled Cas closer. Cas moaned, and Dean swallowed the sound greedily. After what felt like hours, Cas forced himself to pull away and press their foreheads together, both of them breathing heavily.

Cas noticed Dean’s shoulders shaking, and he immediately realized that Dean was laughing. Cas was bewildered. “What’s so funny?”

Dean took a deep breath, trying to control himself. “So… you’re my ‘True Love’, huh? It’s like that fairytale garbage. We’ve been such idiots. All it took was me becoming a demon to figure it out.”

Cas smiled. “You’re the idiot in this relationship.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and said, “Oh, is that so?” before leaning in again, capturing Cas in another kiss that they both grinned into. Cas was overwhelmed. He never thought, in a million years, that this was how their story would come together. Cas still had a lot to learn about being in a relationship, and he knew Dean didn’t have much experience with it either. He understood now, though, that they had plenty of time to figure it out, and his best friend would be at his side through it all.

[filmmakerdreamst]

Xena: Warrior Princess Review

During Pride Month 2020, I finally got around to watch ‘Xena’. A show that had been in my to-watch list for years, but never got around to start. And when I finally did, I was pleasantly surprised. It was not what I expected and it was everything I think my 11 year old self would have loved.

The one thing that surprised me about the show, was the lack of packaging. Even though it was a fantasy, it also played with different kinds of genres too. I’ve talked about this before in my other review - ‘Xena’ was made at a time when TV had very few rules/rarely had a set audience, since there were parts of the show that were clearly for kids and there were other parts that were clearly for adults (therefore had much more flexibility). I admired how they weren’t afraid to break barriers and touch on deep themes such as religion, morality, redemption, spirituality, motherhood, forgiveness etc - even more than shows of today are able. I also loved how they played into the idea of ‘murder’ and how much it can damage a person - not just the person who commits the act, but the many people affected afterwards. I wasn’t expecting it to be that extreme. It made me think that this must of been the inspiration for ‘Game of Thrones’. 

I see a lot of comments here and there, saying how ‘cheesy and terrible’ it was but to just accept it because its part of the fun. And while like any show it does suffer from the occasional spell of bad writing (the whole of season 5) but it was also shown to be very aware of that fact and never took itself too seriously - unlike some shows I could mention. 

And regarding the ‘cheese’ factor (what 90s show wasn’t) It definitely can be, but I would call it ‘camp’ and ‘experimental’ more than anything else. (Don’t diss the poor use of CGI - I’m personally sympathetic to what was avaliable to them at the time) The style of humour reminded me of Taika Waititi’s filmmaking. If you’ve watched any of his films such as ‘Hunt for The Wilderpeople’ or ‘Jojo Rabbit’, then you know what I’m talking about. I liked how little they cared about being accurate or logical, which added to the ‘bonkers’ element in the show - which you can see in all of Taika Waititi’s films.

In all seriousness, a show centered around two women in their late twenties, who are realistic sizes (not trying to play teenagers). One of whom is a reformed mass murderer, who has lived a life experience, trying to do good in the world for the first time, picking the other one up who has no life experience prior (after they bugged them until they said ‘ok fine’) in their path to redemption. Just two women who become friends travelling the world together, fighting crime, having a laff, learning from one another without any toxicity - when suddenly when the stakes are raised - they realise ‘oh I'm actually falling in love with this person’ I have watched a lot of badly written shows in my childhood enough to know that, that’s not ‘cheesy’. I’ve never seen a story like that in my entire life. I’m not at all surprised that Russel T Davis was inspired by it while writing the Doctor and Rose’s relationship in ‘Doctor Who’ since he’s gay himself.

What’s more amazing about their love story is how they’re both develop as separate people as well. There was this video essay explaining ‘Why you should watch Angel’ the spin off series to Buffy; how ‘Buffy The Vampire Slayer ‘was all about growing up and ‘Angel’ was all about being an adult. With Xena: Warrior Princess, you have both of those stories at the same time. 

Xena’s character was such a multifaceted experience to watch. And I can’t imagine anyone else who could play her as well as Lucy Lawless. What planet did they get that actress from? She's flawless! The amount of skill she has to put herself into a very physical role is astonishing. I personally had a love/hate relationship with her character all series long. Not in the way that I hated her, just that I couldn’t trust if she was all good or bad, which I know was intentional on the writers part. I haven’t seen a character quite like her before. She felt very much like a fallen angel; almost like the villain of her own story. Some of my favourite episodes come from fleshing out her character and dark past (‘Locked up and Tied Down’ is one of them) which reminds the audience that's she's not the stereotypical hero everyone expects. I loved her transformation from being this incredibly stoic warrior to being content and happy with who she is in season six, all because of a woman she fell in love with along the way. 

I’ve always thought of Gabrielle as the real hero and narrator of ‘Xena’. She’s the prime example of ‘a normal person becoming extrodinary’. Gabrielle’s coming of age story starting out as an innocent girl from a poor village dreaming of adventure, and ending as this vicious warrior who realises the ‘adventure’ wasn’t how she made it out to be is honestly the best character arc that I’ve ever seen. I loved how travelling with Xena made her realise her passion for writing (which was never going to happen in her home town, given the ‘sexist’ and ‘heteronormative’ ideas) and that she became a amazon princess like Xena. In regards to her sexuality, which is more up for debate than Xena’s (which I think we can all agree is bisexual) I personally interpret her as gay, just in terms of how she was written. Theres this moment in season 4 where she's being held up her hair, and Xena “symbolically” cuts it off ‘freeing her’. And she never really gets with a man afterwards, unless she’s being ‘possessed. It reminded me of a moment in one of Hayao Miyasaki’s films ‘Laputa, Castle in the Sky’ where the bad guy Moska shoots Sheeta’s ‘princess hair off’ which symbolises her transition from child to adult.

The cinematography was breathtaking. There was some great utilisation of New Zealand as the scenery. So was the soundtrack. You could tell it was made by experienced filmmakers. One of my favourite things about the show was the domestic elements - moments in the show where time seemed to stop - which made the world around the characters seem very real and magical. Even though it was a show that featured a lot of action/adventure, there was also this gentleness to it as well. For example, you could feel the wetness of the rain, the warmth of the sun and the clashing of the waves. This technique is used in Hayao Miayasaki’s work a lot .

The technique is referred to as ‘MA’ 空虚 meaning emptiness in Japanese. ‘Miyasaki describes this as the time between a clap’

“If you just have non stop action, with no breathing space at all, its just busyness. But if you take a moment, then the tension building in the film can grow into a wider dimension” - Hayao Miyasaki

The episode ‘A Day in the Life’ in season two is a really good example of this technique being used.

To my understanding, they used a lot of the local actors in New Zealand, which according to Lucy Lawless, consisted of ‘African immigrants and other different ethnicites’. It was so refreshing to see such a diverse show (despite some slip ups) especially in the 90s. I appreciated the idea that if the actors or extras couldn’t do an ‘american accent’ people could just talk in their natural speech which was also very refreshing. 

The LGBT representation was surprisingly amazing. I never expected so many queer characters in one show - especially under the censors. There was this one episode where they had a trans woman - played by an actual trans actress - win a beauty contest. It made me cry. Not to mention the actress was an aids activist. It was actually Lucy Lawless’ idea to kiss her which was incredibly controversial at that time considering how everyone thought you could catch aids just by kissing. I can definitey see how it validated people back in the 90s.

When people told me that Xena: Warrior Princess was one of the greatest love stories, I thought they were exaggerating a little. But no, watching the show in context, I found out that it really is. Despite its obvious restrictions, It made me realise (regarding token gay couples today) how often television writers rely on physicality and drama to convey a ‘love story’ and how much of it is actually pandering the audience. One of the reasons why Xena and Gabrielle’s relationship felt so genuine is because it was built on mutual respect/compassion and they were also best friends. I felt like I was witnessing something very real and private. It didn’t need kissing scenes or drama to make it interesting. 

It really helped that most of the writers were queer also. There’s this opening scene in season 4, panning over to Gabrielle giving Xena a massage (metaphor for sex - because they weren’t able to show that on screen) which I consider to be one of the most iconic scenes in media - considering how I wanted to sick up my supper when I watched the 10 minute ‘empty’ explicit sex scene in ‘Blue in the Warmest Colour’. The difference when something is written by a queer women vs a straight man.

Because the creators weren’t allowed to write their love story in the normal way, due to the studio forbidding them to, they found creative ways to showcase that love on screen - which made for a very magical/sensual experience. And I can safely say, if anyone has doubts about watching ‘Xena’, whenever I expected to be queer baited at a few points in the show, I was proved wrong time and time again. It’s the most romantical show I’ve ever seen in my life!

[98prilla]

Curses and Truths

Inspired by This Work by @fangirltothefullest because it was so beautiful and the expressions were so great I had to do something for it.

Logan gets caught by the Dragon Witch. Roman comes to his rescue.

...

To be honest, Logan couldn’t quite remember how they’d gotten into this situation. At the moment, he couldn’t remember much of anything. His head was in a different place, numb and scrambled, and at some level he knew this was all very illogical, and if he could just think clearly, just for a moment, he would be able to break out of this nonsense fantasy.

 A spike of numbing pain, as more roots coiled up his legs, wrapping around his chest and up his neck, dislodging his glasses, which caught on a branch lower down. He hated this. Hated not being able to see through the fallacies of the situation, he hated being so helpless, he hated that despite his heart telling him Roman would come for him, his mind was telling him that he wasn’t worth the trouble, that the risk in rescuing him wasn’t countered by any kind of reward.

 Because surely, if Roman was coming for him, he would already have been here by now. It felt like hours, had passed. He didn’t know the last time he was able to take a breath unhindered by twisting vines and rough bark squeezing his chest, the last time he could move his arms freely, think clearly, everything was so muddled and all he could do was stupidly, foolishly pray that Roman would come for him.

 “Aw, what’s the matter, little logic? Afraid your prince in shining armor won’t show?” He winced at the sweetly simpering voice, the harsh tug of his hair, followed by a sharply nailed caress of his face, that left red lined scratches across his cheek. He wanted to glare at her, to shoot back of course he was coming, and once he got here, he was going to rip her to shreds. But he couldn’t find the words.

 So instead, he simply looked away, eyes on the ground, refusing to meet her piercing silver eyed stare. She laughed, a far too bright and bubbly sound, that sent shivers down his spine, because it sounded so much like Patton’s, but so much colder. A vine climbed up the branches, wrapping around his neck, too tight to be comfortable, making it harder to breath, harder still to speak. And once again, he was so sick of his words being taken. Of being left voiceless, and he hated himself even more for his weakness as he felt tears slip from his eyes, dark spots forming as they landed on the dry dirt below him. He was too numb to even pull away as she tsked, wiping away his tears, her dragon tail wrapped around the base of the tree, wings casting a shadow as she loomed over him possessively.

“Logan!” The voice was like a shockwave through his system, a brief wash of warmth that brought a flicker of clarity through the clawing despair, and for a brief moment, he managed to raise his head, to meet Roman’s eyes, before he couldn’t hold it up anymore, and it fell back against his chest. “Unhand him, you fiend! You will release Logan THIS INSTANT!” Roman roared, a fiery rage in his voice that Logan had never heard before, tinted by a dark undertone of fear. She laughed darkly, ruffling his hair as she turned, sharp teeth grinning at Roman.

 “Now, now, little prince. You are in no position to make demands. You will give me what I want, or I will let the curse run its course. Your little boyfriend will make a very pretty tree, don’t you think? Cherry blossom, maybe, or perhaps lilac.” He gasped, a strange, aching pain gathering in his chest. He coughed violently, feeling blood on his lips, spitting petals out of his mouth. He could feel the gaps in the branches woven around his body closing up, squeezing tighter. No, not tighter. Assimilating him. Bark was growing over his legs, encasing them, and he let out a strangled whimper as the vine around his neck tightened, forcing his head up, forcing his gaze to meet Roman’s.

 “Stop! I’ll do… I’ll do whatever you want, just stop.” Roman uttered, defeat in his voice as his shoulders slumped, his grip on his katana going from white knuckled to loose as he lowered it, embedding it into the ground and backing away. He winced as the dragon witch sauntered forwards, pulling the sword out of the ground, balancing it on the palms of her hands appraisingly.

 “Such a pretty little thing. How many times, have you bested me with this weapon, I wonder?” Roman flinched as she snapped it in two, feeling as if a part of himself had broken with it. But nothing was as important as Logan, as getting Logan out of here in one piece.

 As it was, he looked on the edge of passing out. His face was pale, the red of his lips standing out, the speckles of blood against them vibrant crimson. His eyes were dark and deadened, pain and fear clouding them, and he wanted nothing more than to pull him close and reassure him that everything would be fine.

 “What do you want?” He bit out, anger tempered by worry and fear, as Logan struggled to breath.  

 “What do I want? You made me, little prince. Surely you should know already my purpose. I want to make you suffer.” She grinned, eyes flashing silver, and he raced forwards, uncaring of her laughter as she vanished, focused instead on Logan’s strangled scream.

 He could feel it. He could feel his skin turning to rough bark, could feel roots wrapping around his feet, not growing up from the ground, but growing through him, tangling around his arteries and veins, clogging his bloodstream and blooming around his airway. He coughed, choking, spitting up more blood and petals, feeling it infecting his lungs, wrapping around his heart and constricting, the world spinning and blurred.

 “LOGAN!” He managed to look up, to look at Roman, though he was just a blur of white and red. “Logan, hold on, I’m going to fix this, starlight, I’m getting you out.” Roman was scrabbling at the bark, trying to claw him out, but it was too late for that, Logan knew. It was inside him, it was in his blood, it was becoming a part of him, and already he was fading, shaking, he heard Roman’s sharp inhale as the bark climbed his neck, the spaces between the branches nearly all closed up, only his face still visible through the tree he was becoming.

 “r-roman…” He managed, voice weak and shaking. Instantly, Roman’s hands were on his face, cupping his cheeks, stroking gentle circles against his skin.

 “I’m here, starlight.”

 “sorry… I…m sorry.”

 “Shh, no, my love, it’s not your fault. You’re perfect, sweet pea. You’re going to be ok.” Roman murmured against his face, forehead pressing against his, until he felt the gap getting smaller, forcing Roman back. He felt the numbness creep across his face, and he took in one last shaking breath, before it covered him completely, before darkness encased him, before all light and noise and sound from the outside world was cut off.  

 He could hear his pulse slowing in his ears. He could feel his breath wheezing and stuttering. His mind was hazing over, his usually always turning thoughts were scattered and half formed as he felt himself melding into the branches twisted around him, felt his being becoming absorbed, one, with the tree around him, and he couldn’t even cry anymore, he was so far gone.

 Distantly, he heard echoing thumps, screams, Roman no doubt beating at the tree, trying to reach him. He wished he could still see him, wished he could give him one last kiss, tell him it was alright, it wasn’t his fault, he wanted to say goodbye properly, but there was nothing for it, now. He couldn’t fight it anymore. His eyes were forced shut by the bark, glazed over with it, and he was dizzy, as the last air escaped his lungs, the tree melding into his arms, his legs, his body, until there was no separating him from the branches.

…

No.

 Nononono

 She’d gone too far, this time, surely she was bluffing, surely the curse would reverse itself any second, surely Logan wouldn’t… couldn’t be…

 Gone.

 He fell to his knees, crumpled against the dirt ground, hands curled into his hair as he howled, keening, screamed, because this hurt, this hurt more than any mere wound, this hurt more than being rent in two, this hurt a thousand times more than any other pain he had ever experienced.

 It was his fault. He had unwittingly led Logan into danger, let him get snatched from right under his nose, he’d arrived too late to save him, and now he was gone.

 His starlight, his moon, his galaxy, his swirling cosmos, his Logan.  

 He felt his fury rise, morphing his grief and pain into white hot rage, into sparking ire and an almost feral determination as he thought of Logan’s brilliant eyes, always glowing with new information, dazzling whenever anyone deigned to listen to him, debating theater and lyrics and poetry with him, they sparkled like the night sky. He remembered nights laying in the grass of the imagination, Logan carefully guiding his hand, placing the stars one by one to match Logan’s descriptions of constellations, to make it as accurate as possible, fascinated as Logan regaled him with every legend, every meaning, behind each one. He remembered Logan coming to his room, gently divorcing him from his work, ignoring his pleading for one last page, one last line, one last word, carding a hand through his hair as they curled together in bed, Logan’s soothing voice easing his mind to a standstill, calming the swirling, tenuous thoughts that clouded it, until he drifted off to sleep. He remembered going to Logan’s room and doing the same, ignoring his pleading of needing to adjust the schedule, to plot out Thomas’s day, to figure out when his meetings and appointments should be, easing the pen out of his hand, softly bringing it to his lips instead, murmuring sweet things to him until he was blushing and trying to argue against their validity, until Roman kissed him, promised him he meant every word, that he loved him, to the moon and back. Then Logan would start speaking about how far that actually was, and Roman would have him put it into more and more ridiculous units, how many busses, how many trains, how many bikes, how many pigeons, until Logan’s own mind had slowed from the focus of calculating, and they were both laughing.

 Logan was his light, his world, his sun, his stars. He. Would. Not. Lose. Him.

 He grabbed the snapped shards of his katana, pressing the broken pieces together, fusing them back into one with a blinding flash of golden light. He forced himself to his feet, feeling all the surging power of Thomas’s mind behind him, all the shaking, wild, untamable force of Creativity flowing through him, and shoved it all into a single thought, a single command, a single singing desire, a single, unchangeable truth, as he raised his sword, leaping into the air, aiming straight for the bark of the tree.

 He was not too late. If cut open, it would free Logan. Logan would be alive.

 He screamed, the sword coming down, cutting through the bark like butter, glowing with power, his eyes sparking with crimson sparks, his war cry echoing through the imagination, as he cleaved the tree in two.

 It took a moment, for the dust to clear. For his senses to return to normal. He was shaking like a leaf, exhausted and drained, shaky with adrenaline, but he rushed forwards, unable to hear anything but the pounding of his own heart, as his gaze frantically swept the scene.

 It was a few long moments before he placed Logan. He was held upright in place, against the inside of the tree, blending in perfectly with it. Bark covered his entire body, pinning him in place, consuming him completely. He gasped, rushing to his side, hesitantly careful as he reached out, relieved slightly as the bark easily brushed off of Logan’s face, the inch thick coating having lost all it’s life and magic when he struck it with his sword, crumbling to dust at the slightest touch.

 Quickly, he tore the rest of the bark off of Logan, catching him as he fell forwards, the last of the bark keeping him upright crumbling away. He carefully brushed away the dusty remains from Logan’s face, his eyes, praying it wasn’t coating his insides as well. He couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. He thought he could feel a weak pulse against his chest, but he wasn’t sure, and he gasped out a sob, cradling Logan tighter.

 “Logan. Logan, please, please, wake up, please, sweet pea, please…” He whispered, tears tracking down his face at how still his love was, how lifeless he seemed, limp body cradled in his arms. He held his breath as Logan let out a hoarse, rasping cough, eyes barely fluttering open for a moment, before slipping shut again.

 “R-ro…” Logan managed, though it was clear the effort cost him, sending him into another fit of hacking coughs. Roman pressed their foreheads together, gently adjusting him in his arms so he was a little more upright, hoping that would help.

 “I’ve got you, starlight. I’ve got you. I’m taking you home, okay? Don’t worry about a thing, you just get some rest for me. I’ve got you.” He pressed a soft, gentle kiss against Logan’s lips, smiling briefly as Logan leaned into the touch, before falling completely limp once more, unconscious.

 He would come back and rain down hell on the dragon witch later, possibly destroy her once and for all for this, but for now, his entire focus was on Logan, as he summoned the exit to the imagination, crossing over quickly to his room, locking the portal tightly behind him.

…

He couldn’t breathe.

 It felt like his chest was too tight, like there wasn’t enough space in his lungs to inhale and exhale, and it hurt, it terribly, awfully, hurt.

 He was coughing, hacking, really, a deep chested, body wracking cough, and he heaved as he felt someone support him into a sitting position, shaking from the force of the air being expelled from him, finally feeling something dislodge, spitting a mouthful of petals and wet plant innards into the bucket held before him, collapsing back against the warmth cradling him close, recognizing that scent of aspen and ink anywhere.

 “roman…” He wheezed, throat raw and sore, that simple word almost sending him into another round of hacking. He could taste copper in his throat, could feel it against his lips, and he shivered, realizing he was lightly feverish, folding tighter against Roman’s embrace as he encircled him in his arms.

 “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry, starlight. I never, never would have brought you with if I thought it would put you in danger, I won’t ever forgive myself for this, I swear, I swear nothing will ever hurt you, not ever again.” Roman murmured, voice shaking as he pressed his lips against Logan’s forehead. When he finally pulled back, Logan’s soft, exhausted eyes were looking up at him, hazed with pain and a breaking, tentative relief.

 “you came. I thought you weren’t coming. I thought… I thought I’m not worth the trouble. Why would anyone risk themselves for me, why would anyone… why would you…”

 “Logan, oh my Logan, my love. I will always find you. I would search for eons, I would travel to the ends of the earth, if that’s what it took to find you. I would never stop searching, not even the end of time would stop me, until I had you safely back in my arms. I love you, starlight. I love you, so incredibly much, sweet pea. I will always come for you.” He replied softly, tilting Logan’s chin up, tenderly meeting his lips for a long, endless moment.

 “I thought I lost you, Logan. You nearly… and it’s all my fault. You’re hurt, and sick, and it’s all my fault.” His voice broke, tears slipping down his face as he gently cupped Logan’s cheek, rubbing softly over the bandaged scratches. “I was so scared. I was terrified, Logan, I’ve never been more afraid in my life. I would have done anything, anything she asked of me. I would have taken your place in a heartbeat, starlight, I would have let her have my crown, have my kingdom, have my life, I would have let her torture me, curse me, use me, however she pleased, as long as she let you go. I would give anything, darling dearest. I would give everything. Whatever little voice in your head that tells you otherwise is lying, and if you don’t believe me, Janus will confirm it for you.

You’re brilliant, starlight, brilliant and clever and you amaze me, every day, with how smart you are, how much you know about the world, the universe, your smile lights up the world, your laugh still makes my heart skip a beat, you are such a beautiful, kind, loving, person, Logan, and I love you. I. Love. You.” He uttered with complete conviction, lost in Logan’s beautiful eyes, surprised as Logan wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face against his chest, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Roman didn’t say anything, simply tucked his head over Logan’s shoulder, holding him close, rubbing his back gently, only drawing back when Logan began hacking again, concern flaring at the deep, bone shaking sound, Logan upheaving more plant matter.

 “thank you.” Logan whispered, curled against his chest, eyes closed, trembling, small coughs still escaping his lips every few seconds. “thank you for loving me. For b-being so patient. I know I’m not… easy… to manage. But you’re so good, to me, Roman. I haven’t earned it.” Roman brushed a hand through Logan’s hair, pressing a kiss to his head.

 “you don’t have to earn my love, starlight. You have it always, freely given. Just being who you are is more than enough, Logan. There’s nothing you could do, that would make me stop loving you with all my heart. You’re not a chore for me to manage, you’re my boyfriend, and there’s nothing I would rather do, than spend time with you, be with you, argue with you, make up with you. I love you.” He pressed soft kisses to Logan’s eyelids, the tip of his nose, finally brushing his lips, each action melting Logan further into his arms, nuzzling against his chest.

 “I think I may pass out once more.” Logan mumbled, feeling Roman laugh softly at his slurred confession.

 “You need the rest, darling dearest. It’s alright. The effects of a curse are exhausting, especially one like that. It should fully wear off within the day, Logan, and I’ll be right here, sweet pea. I’ve got you.”

 “you always do. Love you, Ro.” He managed, through a deep yawn, slipping back into darkness as he felt Roman’s arms hold him closer, knowing with absolute certainty that he was safe.

[tipsycad147]

The Descent of Inanna

by Crimsonwolf

Enki the Wise is the god of fresh water and wisdom. He is a great helper of humankind, and gave to us the Seven Sages, who taught us many arts and skills. To the beautiful Inanna, of whom he is most fond, he gave many gifts as well: wisdom, justice, love, the sacred women, and the fruit of the vine. Inanna is the morning star and the evening star, the rose, and Queen of the Heavens. She is the daughter of Sen, the god of the Moon.

Inanna has a sister named Ereshkigal, who lives and rules in Irkalla, the land of the dead. Though Inanna was always very wise, in her youth she knew nothing of her sister's land, and wanted to learn of it. She asked the permission of the other gods to go. After much hesitation and debate, they granted her wish.

So it was that Inanna went to the gates of Irkalla and petitioned the gatekeeper for entry. Actually, being in the fire of her youth and after all a goddess, she got pretty pushy about it. She said, "Here gatekeeper, open your gate! If you don't open up, I'll smash the door and shatter the bolt! I'll raise up all the dead and they shall come up to Earth and eat the living, until there's more dead than alive!" Well, that certainly got the gatekeeper's attention. He got on the horn to Ereshkigal right away.

Needless to say, Ereshkigal was not amused. "What does she want," Ereshkigal hissed. "For bread I eat clay, for beer I drink muddy water. It is I who must weep for the young men taken from their sweethearts, for the young girls taken from their lovers laps. It is I who must weep for the infants taken so long before their time. Does she want a piece of that? Or is it the Water of Life she wants?" For it was true, Ereshkigal did keep the Water of Life down there, a most prized possession in such a bleak place. "Go ahead, Gatekeeper, let her in. But treat her to the ancient rites, as all must endure on their way to me."

Back up top, the Gatekeeper smiled feebly and unlocked the gate. "Enter, my lady. May you find joy here. May Irkalla be happy to see you." At that he snatched Inanna's great crown.

Inanna roared in anger. "Return my crown!" Who are you to remove the crown of a goddess?"

"Go forth, my lady," answered the gatekeeper solemnly. "Such are the ancient rites."

Soon they came to another gate. The gatekeeper unlocked it, and as Inanna passed through, he removed her earrings.

"Why have you taken my earrings?" Inanna demanded, a little less indignant this time.

"Such are the ancient rites, my lady," said the gatekeeper. And this went on for several more gates, seven in all. The gatekeeper took her necklace, then her breast pins, her girdle of birthstones, the bangles on her wrists and ankles, and at last her very gown. Finally, after passing through the seventh gate, Inanna found herself standing naked before Ereshkigal.

Ereshkigal had expected Inanna to be frightened and contrite by this point, and although Inanna was a bit flustered, you would have never known it. Indeed, it was Ereshkigal who was trembling, for although Inanna had been stripped of all of her finery, her radiant presence was overwhelming in the dark, musty palace. Ereshkigal motioned to her vizier.

"Namtar!" she cried. "Send out against her the sixty diseases!"

Now Inanna is tough, but sixty diseases from the Queen of the Dead is enough to slow anybody down. Inanna fell to the ground, and Ereshkigal threw her into a lampless cell to die.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Inanna was beginning to be missed. Without their beautiful goddess of love, the people fell into despair and stopped screwing. The animals in the forests and fields stopped screwing too - even the bees and butterflies stopped pollinating. The world plunged into a terrible winter, and famine began to ravage the land. Finally Papsukkal, Inanna' s brother, went to their father the Moon-god and told him of of the tragedies befalling the Earth. Together they went to see Enki the Wise.

Enki the Wise, being of course wise, came up with a plan. He created a being to save Inanna, and to be her close and trusted friend. From the dirt beneath his fingernails he made Asushunamir, whose name means "he/she whose face is brilliant." And being luminescent like the moon, Asushunamir passed directly into the underworld from the overworld, as only the moon can do. In the dark palace of the underworld he appeared before Ereshkigal.

"Oh my my, what have we here!" Ereshkigal cried. She was overtaken with desire at his/her beauty, and became immediately obsessed with taking Asushunamir to her bed. She called a lavish feast in his/her honor, and had her best wine brought to the table. Asushunamir sang in his/her ethereal voice for her, and danced sensually, but was careful not to eat any food prepared by ghosts, and to pour his wine on the floor when Ereshkigal wasn't looking.

When Ereshkigal had at last become very drunk, Asushunamir asked of her, "Oh great and lovely queen... is it not true you keep the Water of Life here? For I have heard it is so, and I have longed to taste it."

"Namtar!" Ereshkigal cried. " Bring me the jug that holds the Water of Life! I shall grant this magnificent creature's wish."

When Ereshkigal finally passed out in a drunken stupor, Asushunamir quietly took the jug to the cell where Inanna lay dying. He/she sprinkled the Water of Life upon her, and Inanna quickly began to revive, her eyes regaining their sparkle and her face flushing pink like a child's. Hurriedly she rose, and bidding Asushunamir to follow, raced upward through the seven gates and back to Earth. As she burst through the final door, the flowers immediately began to open and the grass to green, and the skies cleared at last.

Asushunamir was not so fortunate. Just as he was approaching the seventh gate, Ereshkigal awakened, and no amount of music, dance or flattery could charm her now.

"The food of the gutter shall be your food!" Ereshkigal shrieked. "The drink of the sewer shall be your drink! In the shadows you shall abide."

When Inanna learned of the curse placed upon her friend, she wept and spoke softly to him/her. "The power of Ereshkigal is great," she said. "Even I cannot break her spell. But I may soften her curse upon you.

"For many ages you will suffer. Those who are like you, my assinnu, kalum, kurgarru, and kalaturru, lovers of men, kin to my sacred women, shall be strangers in their own homes. Their families will keep them in the shadows and will leave them nothing. The drunken shall smite their faces, and the mighty shall imprison them.

"But if you will remember me, how you were born from the light of the stars to save me from death, to rid the Earth of winter, then I shall harbor you and your kind. I shall give you the gift of prophecy, the wisdom of the Earth and Moon. You shall banish illness from my children, as you healed me in Irkalla. And when you robe yourself in my robes, I shall dance in your feet and sing in your throats. And no man shall be able to resist your enchantments.

"When the Water of Life is brought up from Irkalla, then lions shall leap in the deserts and you shall be freed from the spell of Ereshkigal. Once more you shall be called Asushunamir. The Shining Ones. Those Who Have Come to Renew the Light. The Blessed Ones of Inanna."

Although virtually unknown until about 150 years ago, the Sumerians had a profound influence on later cultures. Images and events from their mythology appear frequently in both the Old and New Testaments. Although comparatively liberal in terms of their religious mainstream, by the time the Sumerians were in full swing the patriarchal bias born of the "agricultural revolution" was already some 6000 years old; note that Enki the Wise, the creator, is male. In the later years of their culture, the Sumerians became increasingly warlike and less egalitarian in their treatment of the sexes.

Inanna, or Ishtar as she was called in Babylonia and northern Sumeria, was one of the three great goddesses of the Bronze Age, along with Isis of Egypt and Cybele of Anatolia. Besides being served by priestesses, she was also attended by gender variant priests - possibly eunuchs - and by hierodules (sacred prostitutes) of both sexes. Transgendered people of several cultures subsequently served many other goddesses : Athirat, Isis, Hera, Demeter, Ma, Kotys, Astarte/Aphrodite, Atargatis, Artemis/Diana, and especially Cybele, whose priests - called the "Galli" - are very well documented. With the burgeoning patriarchy well underway, these transgendered servants of the Goddess - like the hijras in modern day India - were generally viewed with contempt, and treated with fearful respect.

The verbiage at the end of this tale regarding Asushunamir borrowed heavily on a ritual recorded by Randy P. Connor in his book Blossom of Bone. Although currently out of print, it is well worth seeking out; see Recommended Reading.

https://crimsonwolfe.tripod.com/id53.html

[undertaker1827]

Hey I wanted to make a request and sorry if this sounds awkward. But could I request a Undertaker imagine where the reader is Korean and by accident travels back in time and meets Undertaker, she doesn't found a way back and is forced to stay in that time and she meets Undertaker who falls for her bc she has different features from others and is special just overall fluffy. I hope this isn't awkward or something but I just thought it was a cute idea. Have a great day! 💜

Aw man I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for such a long time!! It’s not awkward at all and I’m sorry it took me so long to write this (I write requests in the order I get sent them so sometimes it takes a while, I apologise) but this has been in the back of my mind since you sent it, so I might have gone a bit overboard hope I did it justice!! I’ll link part two once it’s up. Enjoy!

Masterlist

-

Squinting heavily and blinking rapidly, you tried to orientate yourself. Not really able to see, you extended your hands and felt along the ground you had collapsed on, hoping it was your normal carpet. Instead of plush warmth, you were met with wet, cold stone, which felt particularly gritty to you. The room you had been standing in just a moment ago had suddenly filled with bright white light, but even with the light gone, the glare it left behind was stuck in your vision. You were relieved to find it was finally starting to clear, though from the dull ache pulsing behind your eyes, it would leave behind a massive headache in it place.

When you felt able to, you glanced around you to try and work out what on Earth had happened and where you were now. No small amount of panic lodged itself in your chest when you found yourself sitting in an alleyway just off a cobblestone street, back against the wall of one of the buildings lining it and covered in the mud spraying off the wheels of passing … carriages? You leaned forward to look for people, seeing several who were running for cover from the heavy rain but frowning when you saw how strangely they were dressed. You thought back to some stereotypical English period dramas you had watched a long time ago and decided the scene before you could well have been the set from one of them. You took a short sharp breath when it occurred to you that you hadn’t fallen into one of the scenes so much as into the time period itself. The rain was real rain, as was the mud matting your hair and the smell was far too awful to have been concocted for filming purposes. Perhaps your only saving grace was there were no strangers lurking in the alleyway, though conversely, that also meant you had no one to talk to who might know what happened.

Unsteadily, you climbed to your feet, thinking the worst possible thing you could do was just stay put looking the way you did. You pressed a hand to the wall to steady your balance then allowed your gaze to pan the small area in front of you, working out what you should do next. You had just concluded that you would search for a police officer or something similar when a small and considerably battered looking cart stopped right in front of you, blocking your only exit. You looked to the driver, who leapt down from his seat in surprise then tipped his hat forward. When he straightened again, you found his eyes were entirely concealed by heavy grey bangs, a positive mane of hair falling down his back and almost reaching his hips.

“Well, dear me,” the man started, voice possessing a lilting, slightly raspy quality that immediately drew your attention, “and I thought for sure you’d be one of my next customers after I drove past you this morning.” Your eyebrows drew together of their won accord. Drove past you this morning? Just how long had you been laying there?

“Customers?” You asked uncertainly, inching a little closer to him. You felt his gaze scan your appearance, even if you couldn’t see it, then he tilted his head forward slightly.

“You’re not from ‘round here, are you?” He asked conspiratorially, “Not at all.” Your heart leapt at what he appeared to be implying and this time you took a full two steps in his direction.

“Do you know how I got here, then?” You whispered, eyes lighting up at the prospect of getting some answers.

“Not here,” he said by way of reply. “Join me?” He climbed back up to the driver’s seat then leaned down and stretched out a hand to you. You took it, out of politeness rather than necessity, thanking him and asking for his name. “Take the name of me profession, love.” At your blank expression, he elaborated. “Undertaker.” You smiled warm and gave him your name in return. You practically saw him perk up. “You’re Korean?” He asked, voice full of interest. Your smile widened, both surprised and glad to not be mistaken for Chinese or Japanese.

You had chatted about your culture for a while, Undertaker full of questions about something so entirely unfamiliar to him before he explained that he was heading back to his parlour and asked if you planned on joining him. Not, as he so helpfully reminded you, that you really had anywhere to go. You wouldn’t have disagreed anyway, but this really just confirmed your decision.

When you arrived, he walked inside with you and told you to wait in f=the front room while he tended to the horse and the cart. You did so gladly, but after a few minutes found your curiosity got the better of you. You couldn’t help but examine the multitude of jars lining the walls, filled with various preserved body parts, human and animal from what you could tell. You were moments away from picking one up to examine it more closely when the door flew open and Undertaker announced his presence, a massive grin taking over his features as he seemed to know immediately hat you were doing.

“Most courtesy of autopsies and the occasional family of one of me customers.” You had already worked out that his ‘customers’ were actually the bodies of the dead that he worked on, so you nodded in understanding and commented on how interesting you found the apparent hobby. It was only a short time later when you were sat on one of the coffins in the front room, him leaning against the front edge of his large desk and both of you holding conical flasks of tea, a detail you couldn’t help but find endearing. He told you that he knew you were from a different time period entirely - this one turned out to be Victorian London - though he fell to mention why. It also appeared that he had no idea how you got here, or how to get you back, leading you to the inevitable question of what should I do now?

“Your time period and the nature of people from your time is going to be entirely different than mine, which means I couldn’t, in all good conscience, throw you out on the street and leave you to fend for yourself. There’s a small pub near here with upstairs accommodation should you fancy giving yourself even more of a culture shock than you’ve already received, but you’re more than welcome to stay here with me.” It was all you could do to prevent your jaw from quite literally dropping open. His kindness was unbelievable and you accepted the offer gladly. From then on and until late into the night, you discussed the social norms of this era and the mortician fished out some more acceptable clothing for you which he though should fit - just a few of many items he owned for the sake of preparing the dead.

It was only when your eyes became bleary that you realised just how late it was, in time for Undertaker to inform you that due to the size of his home, he was only possessed of the one bed. He was at great pains to assure you that you could take the bed and he would sleep on the couch. You had seen this couch and you were certain even you would have difficulty getting a decent night’s rest on it, so you couldn’t imagine how Undertaker would manage with his height. You suspected his feet would end up hanging over one arm with his head on the other and you couldn’t possibly do that to someone who was allowing you to stay in his home. This led to a long debate over sleeping arrangements until in the end, hoping to settle the matter, Undertaker provided you with an ultimatum.

“Alright, look. Either I take the sofa or we both share the bed.”

“The latter, you replied, without hesitation. You refused point blank to deprive this man of a fitful sleep. You felt him raise a surprised eyebrow, even if it was covered by his hair, as he had been certain you would pick the first option. He then shrugged nonchalantly with an amused “If you say so,”, proceeding to lend you one of his nightshirts. You went to bed not a few minutes later, you shifting to lay on your side to look at him. You thought you caught the merest glimpse of one of his eyes, which almost looked like it was glowing, even if it was too dark to make out the colour.

“Thank you,” you murmured, offering the mortician a small, tired smile.

“You’re alright,” he replied softly, his own smile the last thing you saw before you drifted off to sleep.

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 47: Crossroads

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Forty-Seven: Crossroads

Note: *laughs like that one jerk from Dexter’s Laboratory.* Sorry for any mistakes. It was just one of those days.

(-~-)

The last cards were placed on the table, and to the surprise of only one person present, they fell in the young blond woman’s favor. A bright smile spread across her face as the demon hunter in red walked past her and around the table towards his brother, ruffling her hair in the process. It seemed that she had as little mercy for first-timers as she did for experienced players. Just the way he’d taught her.

On Vergil's part, it was a resounding loss. Even after having the rules haphazardly explained to him by his younger twin and Lady as they debated which version of the game they were actually playing and what the house rules were, he’d been somewhat confident that he would be able to pull off a win. Naturally possessing what he understood the textbook definition of a “Pokerface” to be, he was almost certain that he had not managed to give himself away to his opponent. But that did not by any means explain why he had managed to not only lose the game but to do so with astonishing speed. That game couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes!

Rotating his head slightly to make eye contact with his brother, Vergil tilted his head back slightly so that he could more easily speak to his younger twin without the worry of the entire room hearing him. He wasn’t exactly whispering, but he did desire privacy for this particular inquiry.

“Are we entirely sure that she does not come from demonic blood, Dante?”

Laughing slightly at that statement, Dante shook his head and shrugged, more amused by the question than anything else. As much as he was hoping for a case of beginner’s luck for his unfortunate twin, it seemed that the gambling gods just didn’t favor their family. For all of Vergil’s talents, cards were one of the few things that they both sucked at. That said, he had lasted longer than he’d assumed he would against her, so credit was due there. He would need to run this test with both of his nephews once they had time. Perhaps they would fare better.

“Well, she comes from a family of Alchemists or something like that on her mom’s side, but she didn’t grow up with them, and I don’t think they practice anymore. The Lowell family, if I’m remembering that right. Could be wrong about that, though.”

He had to admit that this was news to him. Patty came from magic as well? He wondered for a moment if her family had had any dealings with the Ludwigs in the past. To his knowledge, they were the biggest coven still operating in these parts. But to be fair, they were not alchemists, either. While it was true that they did possess the requisite skills, and some among their ranks had dabbled in the craft, he doubted that any of them would stay that they were experts in the craft. They were far better sorceresses than anything else. 

“Curious…”

“Honestly, I think she’s just really good at cards. She held her own in a game against some pros about a decade ago. Patty subbed in for me at one point since I wasn’t exactly winning, and losing kinda meant you’d die. The demon we were trying to catch made sure of that. The whole situation was kind of a mess.” Dante said with a shrug, shaking his head as he watched Patty laugh at something that Lady and Trish were talking about from the other side of the small table. For a moment he remembered when he’d had a pool table in that very spot. He had to say that he missed it. One of these days he would have to get another one. She’d probably be good at that, too, and he’d love to teach her how to play.

Vergil went slightly wide-eyed for a moment, fully turning around to face his twin. He couldn’t have heard that statement correctly. Surely he was imagining things. Dante had done some extraordinary unintelligent things in his lifetime. They both had… but that…  “And you thought it was an acceptable decision to let her play under those conditions?!”

Somehow he instantly knew that he was either going to fully explain that decision or find himself pinned to the wall with Yamato stuck through his head and several spectral blades piercing every extremity he possessed. Yes, that did sound bad and it had also been pretty bad, but he had realized as much at the time, and he hadn’t allowed her to really go through with it. Dante might be bad at poker, but he did know how to read a table, and the second he sensed danger, he’d pulled her out of harm’s way. It hadn’t been a perfect decision, but it was what he had done in the heat of the moment.

“Look, it wasn’t my idea in the first place. I didn’t even know she was on the boat until she showed up. It just sorta happened, ya know? And I pulled her before anything serious could happen. I wouldn’t let her get hurt. We had a pretty good idea of what we were up against.” Dante said with another shrug, unsure as to what else he could say in a situation like that. He knew that Vergil knew he wouldn’t casually risk his life, but either way, he saw his older sibling’s point.

The Darkslayer calmed slightly at that revelation and nodded. He could believe that. His younger twin clearly cared a great deal for the young lady, but he still thought that it was an awful idea and a fair bit irresponsible on his brother’s part. Knowing it hadn’t been his idea lessened that somewhat. He just hoped he wouldn’t willingly partake in something so foolish again. But considering his own track record, he was aware of the fact that he had very little ground to stand on. 

But if that was the case, then it meant that magical intervention was very unlikely, even if she had done so involuntarily. A child her age who didn’t know that she was in possession of possible power could unwittingly sway things in her favor, but he sincerely doubted that to be the case in this situation. No, she was simply just that good at the game. A genuine advisory to go up against, then. He liked that.

“… I must improve, then.”

“Good luck with that, Vergil,” Dante said as he gave his older twin a supportive pat on the shoulder. His older twin had his work cut out for him if he thought for even a second that he was going to stand a chance at beating Patty in a game of poker. If he’d never done it before and he actually knew how to play poker, then what hope did his older twin have?

Just a few feet away from the twins, Lady was laughing slightly to herself as Trish sighed and handed her the cash she owed, somewhat begrudgingly. That was what she got for assuming for even a second that Patty might ever lose a game of poker. She had to be more careful with her bets going forward. After all, Lady was a dab hand at seizing financial opportunities, and the last thing that Dante would be doing was paying back his debt anytime soon. She wouldn’t be expecting any cash from him anytime soon.

(-~-)

The cup clicked quietly as it was placed back down on the table, the tray that normally housed it gone for the moment. Using a coffee cup for tea didn’t feel right to her, and she couldn’t seem to get the ratio of sugar and water right, not to mention that the tea was either too strong or too weak for her liking. It was a never-ending cycle of mediocrity, but she would live. Bad tea was a travesty, but it wouldn’t kill her unless she mixed the wrong leaves into it, and she kept those out of her reach in another part of her house just in case she did just that in a moment of thoughtless ineptitude.

A sudden knock at the door drew her attention and aroused her suspicions as Magnolia stood up and slowly headed over towards the entrance to her home, she stopped. No one had a reason to come and knock on her door this late at night. Something didn’t feel right about this, and she knew it. Whatever was on the other side of that door could be a threat. She needed to keep her guard up.

Fixing up a quick defensive spell, she placed her left hand behind her back, keeping it at the ready as she approached the door. A quick glance through the peephole was all that it took for her to realize that someone she had never seen before in a white hoodie and a pair of black jeans stood at her door. They shifted from side to side as though they were nervous, and she noted that she could more than likely take advantage of this fact.

Opening the door quickly and giving them a sideways look, she was unsurprised when they stepped back a few steps, clearly startled and seemingly scared out of their mind. It was then that she realized that this younger individual seemed to have a bit of blood on their side. Were they injured?

Before she could inquire as to what they were doing at her doorway and what was going on, they cleared their throat and looked around, clearly nervous. “Please, there isn’t much time. I need to tell you something. I’ll explain everything, but you have to let me in. I can’t let them see either of us, or it won’t end well. I know you don’t know me, but I’m begging you to trust me. I don’t have anything to gain by lying.”

She studied them for a moment, considering his words. They seemed to grow more and more afraid by the moment, and she didn’t sense anything amiss about them. Perhaps whatever unease she felt in the pit of her stomach was due to whatever they were seemingly fleeing from. If that was the case, then she was going to need to activate the defensive wards she had placed around her house. Something told her that she would regret it if she didn’t.

“You had better not be playing me for a fool, child. I don’t like to play games with strangers. Come in quickly. You have some explaining to do.

A look of elated relief crossed the stranger’s face as they practically dived through the door, clearly feeling instantaneously safer just by crossing the threshold of her house. She folded her arms as they took a moment to compose themselves before turning back to face her, shuddering from the change in temperature in her home as opposed to the arctic cold front that had moved in just outside of the door.

“That’s what I’m here to do, ma’am. To explain everything… And to warn you of what’s to come. Because it’s bad. Very, very bad. And I don’t think any of you are ready.”

(-~-)

It hadn’t really occurred to them until they had left that they didn’t really have a way of getting to V’s house on the other side of town without the van. Nico was still in Fortuna, and couldn’t get a ferry over to the mainland until morning came, so they were either looking at walking about ten miles, or they were going to be taking the metro lines. It wasn’t exactly a difficult choice, but it did mean that Nero wasn’t going to get to eat whatever Kyrie had been making for dinner. It was a tragedy that his father would pay dearly for if not for the circumstances.

Unfortunately, hindsight is twenty-twenty after all, and while Nero registered the fact that they should have probably just gone back to the office and asked his father to drop them back off at their respective homes, he couldn’t say that any of them really had anything better to do than catch a train and go for a ride.

As they entered the terminal, the trio was surprised by how quickly they almost got lost. It seemed that several lines were out of order due to the destruction caused by the Qliphoth several months back, and what few people there were seemed to be a bit on edge about the prospect of riding a train when just some parts of the region were still experiencing inconsistent tectonic activity as a result of the attack. Apparently, some of the areas that had once been inhabited by the roots of the massive demonic tree were still settling.

Nero genuinely wondered if they would ever be able to repair that city; if the lives of everyone who had once been in that region would ever be the same. The majority of the people there had been able to evacuate before the worst had happened, but it had been a huge place, and countless lives had still been lost. 

Perhaps it was best that he not think about it for now. It was still all over the news as it was, looming over the hearts and minds of everyone who heard or saw it. After all, everyone knew. And it seemed that the laboratories that had been contracted to research the cause of the destruction had been unable to come up with a scientific explanation for the flora that had started to bloom within the exclusion zone in the time since the attack. Well, at least one that didn’t obviously scream “demons”. 

Big surprise there. 

The general public the world over seemed to know what had really happened there since so many people had been there at the time and lived to describe their first-hand experiences, but while the local government attempted to find any other explanation, the damage was done. Even if no one running the country wanted to go on paper or public television and explain the actual reason, seeing it with their own eyes had been all the proof that basically every resident of the surrounding area needed.

Bleak times they lived in.

Slipping through the security checks had been surprisingly simple. While there had been a man on standby with a metal detector, the second that V’s cane had set off the machine, he’d allowed them both to pass, seemingly uncomfortable with the fact that he was holding someone up who probably didn’t like to stand for long periods of time. He had more than likely assumed that asking for the young summoner to stand there without his cane while he looked it over would be overstepping somewhat, so he had simply allowed them to pass, not realizing that in an ironic twist both Lucia and Nero possessed weapons of their own, and that V was certainly more dangerous than his frail demeanor allowed him to appear.

As they approached the onboarding ramp, Lucia took a look at the map. She had made a point of trying to remember where all of their homes were in case she needed to find them, and although she didn’t know basically any of the local street names, she remembered a few key ones. Namely the larger intersections closest to their homes. And back home she was quite good at traversing the underground railways in her area. This wouldn’t be too bad. “To my understanding, we should only need to go three stops.”

Looking over at the wall-mounted route map, V studied it for a few seconds before nodding in agreement. He then turned back to looking over at… whatever he had been looking at previously, shifting in discomfort slightly. Nero and Lucia both took note of this subtle change in his demeanor, but were hesitant to ask what seemed to be making him so uncomfortable. That was until V swayed slightly and had to catch himself, his palm making its way up to his forehead before his fingered rubbed his left temple. He didn’t seem to be in noticeable pain, but he was most certainly disorientated.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is something wrong? Are you alright?” Lucia asked pleasantly, clearly worried. She allowed her right arm to list slowly as she got within catching distance of the young man, unwilling to allow him to topple over should the need arise. He couldn’t be that heavy.

Nero nodded in agreement, placing his hand on V’s shoulder and gesturing towards a bench that sat near the boarding area. People were watching them more than they already had been when how much they stood out was taken into account, but that was the least of Nero’s concerns. “Do you want to sit down? You seem kinda dizzy or something.”

V shook his head slightly, lowering his hand. He then looked back over in the direction of the boarding platform that he had been studying just a second before. It stood on the opposite side of the tracks, and he couldn’t say that he wasn’t concerned with what he thought he’d seen. He liked to believe that his eyes were simply playing tricks on him, but that was rarely the case. His hearing and eyesight were perfectly fine, exceedingly so, in fact. His mind might play tricks on him, but his other senses did not.

“I believe that someone may be following us.”

The devil hunter with the short hair turned to look, but Lucia stopped him. She then looked back over at V, nodding very subtly. “Then it may be best to not let them know that we are onto them. What gave them away?”

Gesturing in a manner casual enough to not attract attention, V tilted his head slowly in a pointing manner towards the other side of the tracks. There, an obscure figure in a long white coat stood by a pole, looking directly at them with what could only be described as an intense stare. They didn’t move, and their face couldn’t be clearly made out from where they were. It was as if there were some otherworldly that kept them from being able to identify this figure, and it was unnerving, to say the least.

“... Call it a hunch that I have.”

Seemingly realizing what he was referring to, Lucia was about to say something when a train pulled across in front of the other side of the track, obscuring the target of their attention. A little less than a minute passed before it pulled off again, revealing that the person in question had disappeared. They looked around, not seeing where they had gone but now silently alarmed that they had lost them. There was no way that they could board the train now. Allowing this individual to know where they were going wasn’t at all a card that they were willing to play.

“What do you think we should-’”

Just as Lucia was attempting to finish asking her question, a screeching noise could be heard from the train tunnel on their right side, the direction that their ride should have been coming from. Cacophonous screaming could be heard as people with a better view of the platform suddenly turned and ran for the stairs on either side of them. Backing up out of reflex, the trio looked at one another, unsure as to what was going on.

But they didn’t have to wonder for long. Just seconds later an ear-piercing screech echoed through the terminal as the train came flying through the terminal on its side and crashed into a support beam, knocking them back on their backs and the wind out of their lungs with the sheer force of the impact it made with the platform they were standing on. As the power to the terminal cut, a rumbling noise could be heard from all around them as part of the ceiling above them to one side cracked and fell in. And then everything went dark.

(-~-)

*Laughs evilly to myself.* Some of you asked if the finale was drawing near. I assure you, this is the beginning of the true build-up to that climax. It’s going to take a few chapters to get there, but now that all of the main players have been introduced, we can begin the true descent into madness. *Evil laugh.*

I hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger! See you next week on Wednesday and in the comment section. Stay safe out there!

[ravens-words]

I would like to very gently, and respectfully disagree about Maria not being at fault for going after Michael after she knew that Alex was feeling hopeful. The incident in TX was clearly just some drunken hookup and she didn't know at that point and when she did she promised it wouldn't happen again.

The first issue I see is that IF she "fell in love" with Michael (which is debatable and will be my 2nd point), once she knew that Alex didn't just still have lingering feelings but was feeling hopeful about things with Michael, she should have taken a step back. Alex is supposed to be her best friend, not Michael so just because Michael says it's over doesn't mean that Alex isn't still thinking something is going to happen. At the very least there should have been some conversations happening (since they are all adults and Maria now knows Michael and Alex have a decade of history, they aren't just some 14 year-olds with a 3-month long crush) before Maria basically decided to burn her bridges with Alex over Michael. (Not that the show let that happen, but the fact that it didn't is one of the major problems with the triangle anyway which was down to the writing)

The second issue, is that we're told that she "fell" for Michael, and was willing to risk her friendship Alex by going after him, but there is not a single instance while they are together that I can think of where she seems to want Michael around when it's not about sex or him coming to save her from a flat tire (and we don't see that anywhere in season 1 either except for one throwaway line after Noah possessed her). If she was so into him, enough to risk her life-long friendship with Alex, we should have seen her being excited to be around Michael, and wanting to hear what he has to say, and not just staring blankly any time he tries to open up or distracting him with sex so she doesn't have to have an actual conversation with him. If they were going to do a "love triangle" (already a dumb thing with the storyline, but that's not the point here) there should have been stakes, and if they wanted to emphasize that Malex are connected like Echo are, Alex should have ended up being a priority. But then Maria couldn't have been the one bossing everyone around and in total control of the situation at all times which seems to be what the want her character to be, in which case the love triangle should have been between her and two love interests she was trying to choose between, not putting her in the middle of two people we know are "cosmic".

You absolutely do not have to publish this, btw, I just don't see, with what we got on screen, that there was any way Maria was actually into Michael Guerin as a person, not just an idea of the kind of boy-toy she wanted, so her being willing to risk her friendship with Alex over something so shallow and refusing to engage any of them in a meaningful, adult conversation beforehand is absolutely something she should be faulted for.

Nonnie,the point I was trying to make with that whole post was that the show allows Maria to make choices, wrong ones, and she's not accountable for any of them like evry other character.

Now, you're probably right, if I did use the words she was in love with Michael- she clearly wasn't at the time. Better words would have been that she thought she could have something with him.

A few points-

M!luca was a bit (maybe a lot) toxic. I absolutely agree with you in that the show "told" us she liked him and that this wasn't backed up by her actions. I absolutely HATED how she treated Michael throughout their relationship. And that was the writers' fault more than anything.

The triangle shouldn't have been a thing, I agree with that too and I think I even said it, but since it happened, I also said that it should have been handled better and should have ultimately served in Malex' favor instead of treating them like they never even happened in order to prop up M!luca.

I welcome any and all disagreements, but I still stand by what I said. I'm not Maria's biggest fan, not by a long shot. And, me personally, I don't think I would never go after someone my friend was in love with, and you seem to be of the same opinion, but the truth is, at least for me, I've never been in that position, so I don't know if I would ever do it.

Maria was in the wrong when she didn't have a frank conversation with Alex about it, when she lied to his face, but- Michael was an idiot (I love the guy but he made some pretty questionable choices here) who chased after her even though he was in love with Alex. She thought they had a shot. Expecting her to be so selfless that she would ignore that opportunity of happiness, with someone who she'd seen a different side of at least according to what the show told us, just because of Alex's feelings, which as far as she knew (talking about season 1 here) were not actively returned, could be a bit unrealistic.

I'm not defending her actions, God knows I hated season 2 and only ever acknowledged episodes 2x04 and 2x11 with a couple Malex scenes lol, but what I wanted, what I've always loved in shows, was to see characters making wrong choices, and to watch them fix them.

Sure, my first option would have been to have her step down for Alex, but choosing to go after Michael wasn't the biggest mistake imo. What was the biggest mistake (like I mentioned) was her barely acknowledging Alex's feelings, outright ignoring them, even. The biggest mistake was the way the show handled the love triangle. The biggest mistake was the show painting Maria as this amazing, perfect friend, without showing us this, and then we see her do all that shit without so much as one word from anyone about how much she could have been huting Alex.

What was a mistake was having Alex's reaction be a totally passive thing and so OOC (again, this is just my opinion) just to paint Maria in a good light.

Maria wasn't the only one to make mistakes. Both Michael and Alex have, too.

The only difference is, both Michael and Alex were called out for theirs, while hers were swept under the rug like they didn't even happen.

I hope I made my point clearer now. Thank you for respectfully sharing your opinion 💛 if you'd like to discuss this more, I have no problem doing so, whether it's here as anon or in my messages, I'm always open to talking about RNM.