#and this is all coming from someone who struggles like hell with labels

[r1ghtwhereyouleftme]

Me: I hate [insert thing here] discourse

Also me: *gets so annoyed when people are blatantly stupid and do things thay make zero sense therefore making me go along with discourse bc I can only handle so much stupidity*

[remiratboi]

Debt To Pay

Masterlist

Pay My Debt With Your Body Trope

4 Military Men X GN AFAB Fat Reader

CW: bdsm, forced, r@pe, non con, dubcon, gang bang, multiple penetration, oral, anal, dp, gaslighting, gambling, military troop

You marched down the hallway pissed off as all hell. Your boyfriend was supposed to have been home hours ago. He ghosted you all evening then sent some dumb, half assed drunk text begging you to come pick him up.

You couldn’t believe him. He wasn’t normally like this. He was wonderful to you. Yeah, his deployment was hard, really hard. But he was worth it.

So what the fuck was he doing now? You worried that this might be signs of something deeper.

No. You told your self. You’re over reacting. It’s one bad night.

You wrapped your knuckles on apartment 408 and crossed your arms. He had better answer fast.

It took far too long for him to open the door. You were about to lay into him, when you realized he hadn’t opened the door.

“Hayden?” You snapped at the annoyed looking man who opened the door. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s just grabbing his stuff. Come in.” Hayden nodded his head back into the room before turning and walking in. You rolled your eyes and followed him.

The door slammed shut behind you, and before you even had time to yelp in surprise, you were tackled to the ground. A heavy hand snaked over your mouth.

“Shhh, shhh. None of that.” Your boyfriend’s sultry voice soothed in your ear. You roiled at the recognition and fury raced through your body. You whipped your head back to smack his, but he deftly moved out of the way.

He struggled you up and off the ground and held you against his chest, hand still over your mouth.

“Alright baby, here’s the deal.” You stared wide eyed at the three other men you hadn’t noticed until now. They stood in a crescent in front of you. Your boyfriend’s voice was rough. “Let’s just say I lost some money to these guys here.” He gave you a peck on the cheek. It felt like betrayal.

“You know them, remember?” He asked in an all too casual tone. “These are my boys, my troop. I’ve been to hell and back with them and I’m not the type to skimp out on debt.”

The arm wrapped around your chest, squeezed. “But, I just kept losing, baby. You know how I am.” He chuckled darkly. “So we came to an,” he shrugged. “An understanding. Tonight, you are going to pay off my debts. And we are all going to have a great time.”

With that he shoved you forward into the arms of the other men. You tried to scream, but a gag was swiftly and roughly shoved into your mouth. Their hands were all over you. You couldn’t even tell who did what. Your clothes were ripped from your body. It happened so fast, you were reeling just trying to process what was happening. It didn’t feel real.

The men, Hayden, Marc and the one whose name you couldn’t remember but had labelled “beefcake” to only yourself, touched you, everywhere. Adam, your boyfriend, was calling encouragements from the side.

In moments you were naked. They squeezed and pinched all over your thick thighs, your stomach, your chest. One of them pulled tight on your nipple. You cried out and fought back as hard as you could. But there wasn’t much to be done against 3 strong, very capable men.

“Damn, you weren’t lying about that pretty pussy, cap.” Beefcake said to Adam. Of course it would be beefcake.

“Mmhmm.” He practically moaned back. You knew that tone he used. You were shocked to realize he was enjoying this. Your lovely, sweet, kind boyfriend, was enjoying watching his partner being attacked by his friends. A sob wracked through your chest.

“And look at that ass.” Marc whistled. He gave it a hard smack. You cried out behind your gag. “Baby, you need to start showing that thing off! Damn you’re hot as fuck.” You couldn’t help but blush. It wasn’t every day people showed your chubby body the appreciation it deserved.

Someone’s fingers played with your fat pussy. They were dragging their fingers up and down your slit, dipping in, but never fully entering you. You couldn’t help it as you started to feel wet.

“Damn, this sluts getting wet!” Hayden said. So it was him teasing you. “Yo Adam, you never told us what a slut they are.” Both men laughed.

“Wait till you try their head.” You heard Adam make a chefs kiss sound.

That sealed it. The boys weren’t just messing around. You heard a series of zippers, and felt Hayden pressing his cock against your cunt.

“Be a good slut, now.” He mounted you from behind. They shifted and Beefcake brought his cock to your lips. He ripped the gag off.

Hayden and Beefcake both forced their way in at the same time. If your mouth hadn’t been full of cock, you’d be screaming. Hayden was big, and you weren’t ready. The stretch was incredible.

As fast as it had all happened, they were now pounding into you from both ends. Marc had lowered himself under you and wrapped his mouth around your nipple. His fingers snaked up to rub your clit.

There was so much happening all at the same time and you couldn’t stop it. You felt your orgasm building. You redoubled your efforts, thrashing and kicking out. The men just laughed. You screamed around Beefcakes cock as both men came inside you. Your orgasm crashed through your body. Your eyes rolled back in your head.

They swapped. Marc sunk his cock into your sloppy cunt. Adam took Beefcakes place at your mouth.

“Yeah, you really are a slut.” Adam said fondly as he looked down on you. Marc set a brutal pace and soon you came again on his cock. Adam forced you to stare in his eyes as Marc came deep in your pussy. He followed shortly after.

The night continued like that. For hours they rotated who fucked what hole, and they took everything from you. You barely even remember everything. By the end of the night you were only half conscious, fucked out and dazed. You came more than a dozen times, your body exhausted and sore.

*******

You woke hours later, the morning sun just barely started to peek through the windows. You were in your bed. Your favourite candle burned and a large glass of ice water sat on your bedside table.

Adam kissed your shoulder gently and pulled you back against his chest. You were wrapped in his arms and your blankets.

“You did so good baby. I’m so proud of you.” You snuggled back into his body. “Did you have a good time? Was it what you wanted?” He asked.

You nodded. A huge smile split your face. You were still sleepy and dazed, but utterly content.

“I love you so much baby.” Adam spoke lovingly.

“Did you have a good time?” You asked. Your voice cracked, your throat more sore than you expected.

You felt him nod. “It was a little scary, being so mean to you. But I know it’s what you wanted, and honestly, you were so fucking hot” he chuckled. “I got over it pretty quickly.”

You blushed and nuzzled into your blanket, cozy and warm.

“Uh, fair warning though, the guys…” he laughed again. You felt nervous. Had they not liked it? Had they not liked your body? “Well, let’s just say they are going to be begging you to let them fuck you again.”

“… Really?” You asked innocently.

“Baby, that wasn’t just talk. All three have been crushing on you for years, and now, well, now it’s gonna be a lot harder to dissuade them.” He kissed up your neck. “But I don’t mind sharing.” Adam teased. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy, my love.”

[eloriis]

TRAITOR - carlos sainz

- inspired by traitor | olivia rodrigo

in which . . y/n struggle with the pain of betrayal after a breakup when carlos quickly moves on with someone else, leaving her questioning their entire relationship and the promises he broke.

warnings : a lowkey toxic relationship if u squint ur eyes at a few sentences, ntg else i think?

notes : second fully written work! ‘heather’ didn’t really do as well as i hoped it would tbh :( but i hope this one does better 🤞🏼 and lexi, i’m sorry if i made you cry but ily my hype girl 🫶🏼

and for a person who usually hates angst, i seem to write them the best 😓

plsplspls don’t ask for a part 2 for fics that do not have any info about them being a series.

type : written ⋆ word count : 1.2k

brown guilty eyes and little white lies, yeah i played dumb, but i always knew

that you talked to her, maybe did even worse

i kept quiet so i could keep you

carlos’ big brown eyes were one of the prettiest ones i had ever seen in her entire life. no matter how common brown eyes were, his eyes would always be the ones i would look for in the crowd. i didn’t know the exact day when the eyes she knew she could always find comfort in suddenly became the ones i started avoiding. it all started with little white lies like “i can’t make it to the date tonight, i have to stay late for practice” or “i’m meeting with the boys tonight! don’t stay up late waiting for me”.

those texts never sat right in my heart; they sounded too fake, too scripted. i could never manage to go too deep into her own thoughts about what he actually might be doing with her while i was waiting for him to come back home.

and ain’t it funny

how you ran to her

the second we called it quits?

i could almost laugh through the pain while reading the new article about you and her being spotted by the paparazzi the day after we called finally ended all those years of being each other’s one and only.

and ain’t it funny

how you said you were friends?

now it sure as hell don’t look like it

he always said that they were just friends, that they were close due to a mutual friend. that’s what he told everyone who asked him about her. but all these recent pictures online don’t really make a good argument against them being a couple.

you betrayed me

and i know that you'll never feel sorry

for the way i hurt, yeah

you’d talk to her

when we were together

loved you at your worst

but that didn't matter

feeling betrayed wasn’t an emotion i was well versed in or had been anticipating to be in this life, clearly fate had other plans.

i kept hoping that i would maybe get a text from you, an apology for all those years of my life wasted on making sure you were okay when you were at your lowest and worst point of your life.

all those years wasted. all because you decided halfway that you wanted her and not me.

it took you two weeks

to go off and date her

guess you didn't cheat

but you're still a traitor

two weeks. that was all it took for you to move on from a relationship that lasted for years. everyone says that you guys look so cute together, maybe if you heard that enough before, you would have ended up with her earlier and not have been labelled a traitor in my heart.

now you bring her around

just to shut me down

show her off like she's a new trophy

we finally ran into each other at a bar almost three months after the breakup. the second you saw me, you pulled her by her waist and kissed her right in front of me, showing her off like she was a new trophy.

and i know if you were true

there’s no damn way that you

could fall in love with somebody that quickly

if you were as true to us as you claimed you were, i’m damn sure that there’s no way you could have actually been able to move on so quickly and fall in love with someone else.

ain’t it funny

all the twisted games

all the questions you used to avoid?

was whatever we had just some sick twisted game to you? one that you oh so badly had to play? all those questions that you always seemed to be too busy to answer suddenly came back to me, they seemed harmless at that time, if only i knew.

ain’t it funny?

remember i brought her up

and you told me i was paranoid

remember that one time i brought her name up during a conversation? how you called me paranoid and sick because of how i was villainising her, i had just asked you if she had to stay with us when she came to visit even though she has friends who live here.

you betrayed me

and i know that you'll never feel sorry

for the way i hurt, yeah

you’d talk to her

when we were together

loved you at your worst

but that didn't matter

you left my life without a second thought, and i know that you will never understand the pain of being the one to be left alone while the other moved on like none of it ever existed. you always wanted her in your life, even when i was right there. i stood by you through everything, through your lowest points, but it didn’t change anything in the end.

it took you two weeks

to go off and date her

guess you didn't cheat

but you're still a traitor

you really wasted no time jumping into her arms, as if what we had didn’t mean anything. maybe you weren’t unfaithful, but seeing the way you moved on so fast hurts the same.

god, I wish that you had thought this through

before i went and fell in love with you

when she's sleeping in the bed we made

don’t you dare forget about the way

i just wish that you had thought about what i would do after you decided that you were bored of me, atleast before i fell in love with you.

i want you to remember how we cuddled, cried, laughed, loved and cared in the same bed that she is now sleeping in.

you betrayed me

'cause i know that you'll never feel sorry

for the way i hurt, yeah

you’d talk to her

when we were together

you gave me your word

but that didn't matter

i realize now that you’ll never take responsibility for breaking my heart. you left me behind without a hint of remorse, as if my feelings were never real to you. even when you promised me forever, she was always there, lurking in the background. your words meant nothing in the end, just empty promises that you broke without a second glance.

it took you two weeks

to go off and date her

guess you didn't cheat

but you're still

you’re still a traitor

yeah, you're still a traitor

two weeks was all it took for you to forget us, to move on like i was nothing. you didn’t break the rules, but you broke my trust, and that’s just as cruel. no matter how much time passes, the sting of betrayal lingers. you might think you’re innocent, but deep down, we both know what you did.

god, i wish that you had thought this through

before i went and fell in love with you

if only you had thought this stupid thing throughout, maybe i wouldn’t be in my bed crying over how much loving you and your beautiful brown eyes had taken from me.

[shomatoriashi]

08/03/24; 04:25pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

{ oneshot }

soulmate au prompt - all the nicknames your soulmate is called by is written on you.

{ you sold me | if your love is a cult, then i’m in it | sign me up… }

the weakest hunter of all mankind

korea’s 10th s-rank hunter

shadow monarch

6th national level hunter

2nd rate asian hunter

your eyes trail across the words that were now permanently stained against your skin-

words that were, oddly enough, nicknames that your soulmate has been called before. as you kept looking at each and every one of the titles, you tried to somehow piece together the true identity of your soulmate.

“jeez, he sounds like a walking contradiction…”

how could someone be labeled the weakest in the world-

yet have the strength of a national level hunter at the same time?

and he’s from korea, too? well, that made things a bit more complicated on your end, being born in the united states and all. due to your work as a healer, you transferred and moved around a lot, but it was always from state to state. never once were you forced to go on a raid outside of your home country.

as you continue to examine each nickname that described your soulmate, you see your phone light up with what felt like thousands of notifications from your hunter association branch’s network, alerting you of a powerful s-rank who was visiting your city.

your eyes narrow, full of suspicion for such a series of notifications. sure, you’ve seen your fair share of hunters who traveled worldwide and attended conferences, but it was literally not a big deal to you.

with a huff, you pick up your phone and unlock its screen, scrolling for a few moments before feeling your eyes going wide upon seeing the headlines:

[ SUNG JINWOO, KOREA’S 10th S-RANK HUNTER, HAS ARRIVED FOR A CONFERENCE AND FANS ARE EAGERLY AWAITING TO SEE HIS PRESENCE!! ]

you tilt your head upon reading the headlines, mouth open in a gape as you felt yourself staggering backwards. you kept reading the headlines over and over again, recognizing the same nickname that was plastered all across the headlines written on your very skin.

“there’s no way in hell…”

was sung jinwoo your soulmate?

your brain was short circuiting, struggling to keep up as your mind refused to stop spinning. ever since you began seeing these strange nicknames appear all across your body, you didn’t think much of it, being too busy with your duties as a healer to really focus on it.

only recently did you begin to question the true identity of your soulmate-

but never once did you believe that someone so famous was meant to belong to you.

anxiety was felt coursing through your veins, with you letting out a shaky breath at the thought of somehow meeting with jinwoo-

would he be disappointed to know that you were the one that was meant for him?

would he try to tear himself away from you?

or worse yet-

was he going to give you a chance?

{ … }

zero to hero

the efficient one

mercy

those three titles seen across jinwoo’s wrist was the entire reason he came to the states to begin with. ever since he started out as a hunter, being labeled as the weakest in the world, he clung to each title that was held by his soulmate, praying that it would lead him to you soon.

he had known about your existence for quite some time now, yet could never find the means to come to you. when he was old enough to understand the concept of soulmates, jinwoo always assumed that his fated one would be close to home-

so to realize that you were (quite literally) thousands of miles away came as a surprise to him. back when he was barely making enough money to even get by, jinwoo had put the thought of meeting you at the backend of his mind.

but now, since he was made a player under the system’s regimen, he was able to lose his pathetic title and become his nation’s latest s-rank hunter-

meeting you was no longer a pipe dream to him.

jinwoo looks away from his wrist, staring out the window that overlooks the city. he hums, taking out his phone while searching through his contact list, landing on a section simply labeled as fated one.

butterflies were felt erupting all across his abdomen, making jinwoo let out a deep sigh as he hoped that doing so would calm his now frayed nerves. knowing that he couldn’t stall any longer, he presses down on the single name saved on his contact list…

{ … }

just as those self deprecating thoughts threatened to fill your mind, you almost dropped your phone when you found an unknown number calling you. your breathing becomes slightly labored, and you snap out of it on the third ring.

“h-hello…” you state your name, only to hear a rich chuckle on the other end of the line. he repeats the syllables that make up your name before speaking to you, “hello indeed… it is… nice to finally hear your voice.”

he sounds… hesitant, as if speaking a new language for the first time, testing out how it sounded on the tip of his tongue, sounding shy even. “s-sorry if i sound a little strange, english is not my first language… but i wanted to try… for you.”

you could feel the heat settle against your cheeks upon realizing the identity of the person that was speaking to you. “you are… sung jinwoo?”

“haha, yes, the one and only.”

for some odd reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning, feeling the smile spread from ear to ear, “i-i genuinely can’t believe you reached out to me first…”

yet another rich chuckle was heard.

“i will admit, it’s been a long time coming… and, i want to see you and meet you… the healer known as ‘zero to hero.’”

you snort upon hearing such a stupid nickname. “ah, yes, that nickname became a bit of a running joke, since i wasn’t a great healer when i first started out.”

jinwoo ends up laughing even harder on the other line, “i think i understand where you’re coming from more than anyone else, jagiya.”

you felt your breath hitch in response to his term of endearment. you were ready to say something else, but hearing jinwoo’s laughter become louder makes you stop.

“eh? what is it, why are you laughing so much, jinwoo?”

he manages to calm down after several seconds, and you hear what sounds like the shifting of fabric on the other end before he tells you, “it’s nothing, it’s just… on my wrist, i see all of your nicknames and ‘jagiya’ was just added.”

the heat that blossomed against your cheeks was now felt spreading, and you were certain that it had reached the tip of your ears as you struggled to form a single coherent thought. jinwoo seems to catch on and saves you from potentially embarrassing yourself.

“listen, i am in the city and would like to pick you up for a date. if it’s alright with you, can you get ready and wait for me?”

you couldn’t answer fast enough, screaming, “yes!!” on the other line as you kept on nodding. with a slight tremor in your voice, you tell him your address, basking in jinwoo’s kind voice when he promises to come to you within the next 30 minutes.

once you both hang up the call, there was a dreamy expression on your face, with you letting out a sigh as you held your cellphone close to your chest.

it seemed as though jinwoo had long been willing to give you a chance, never once feeling disappointed in you as such knowledge ends up filling your heart with love and joy.

you looked forward to sharing your life with this seemingly amazing man, unable to believe that he had been yours from the start.

end notes: don’t mind me, i just needed to post a simple and true, fluffy story for jinwoo, my favorite hubby (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[alltimefail]

Okay so I have more thoughts on Dead Boy Detectives but this is less about scene analysis and more about my own personal interpretation of Charles as I truly believe Charles' inability to fully "reciprocate" Edwin's feelings is less about accepting his sexuality/lack of awareness about his sexuality and more about feeling unworthy of being on the receiving end of Edwin's love (and about bad timing - them being in an afterlife or eternal suffering situation on the literal stairs of hell, but I digress lol). This would explain, pretty seamlessly, why he seems to seek out fleeting or "fun" romances and flirtations. It would also explain why, immediately following the confession, there are micro-changes, blink-and-you'll-miss-it differences in Charles' behaviors and expressions. It's clear that our boy is reflecting, and he meant it when he said he intended to "figure out what the rest means..." even if it takes him forever (and I doubt it will, but again... I digress). This is why calling his reassurances to Edwin on the staircase a "rejection" and putting Charles in a box as default-straight is a complete disservice to his character, to the writers, to the queer brilliance that rings beautifully in every facet of this show, and to Jayden Revri who is an exceptional actor with a palpable, deep love and reverence for the character he's portraying.

As a repressed PTSD bisexual™️ myself, I can't help but connect Charles' history with abuse alongside his poor perception of self, people-pleasing tendencies, and his quickness to stifle and repress his own feelings and desires to his fear of being a "bad person." It would not surprise me if Charles would fear the possibility that he is capable of taking something fragile, beautiful, raw, and vulnerable (Edwin's love) and destroy it in the way his father did.

Charles has always loved fully and without caution; I would even say he loves recklessly at times, throwing himself in front of danger, even to his own detriment. But has anyone fully loved him back in the way he loves? Charles has always loved Edwin, but did he ever allow himself to humor the idea that Edwin might just love him back?

It's evident that Charles had very little kindness in his life. Charles' friends were conditional at best and violent/abusive at their worst, his father was a monster, and his mother (who, in all fairness, was also a victim of abuse) was quiet and complicit in the abuse Charles received from his father. His entire afterlife is intrinsically connected to Edwin's - his entire existence, and Edwin's entire existence, are so closely entwined to one another that to "screw up" the delicate balance they've struck would be more than unfortunate - it would be earth-shattering, a loss like no other. Charles is impulsive, but he is not careless...quite the opposite, actually. I truly think whether or not he's attracted to men is not the issue; it wouldn't surprise me if, at the very least, Charles is aware he is attracted to people regardless of gender and just doesn't have the language to put a label to that sensation yet (he might have never been compelled to put a label on it, frankly). The issue is that Charles is unsure if he is deserving of someone not just loving him, but being in love with him... especially when it's coming from someone he thinks is the best person in the world, the most important person to him, the only person he would deny heavy and defy hell for.

Honestly Charles might even already know he has feelings toward Edwin specifically that are not strictly platonic, but taking that gamble even though he struggles with feelings such as being undeserving of Edwin; that he would be selfish to take a love he's undeserving of; that Edwin might come to realize, at some point, that he was mistaken in loving Charles and that being with Charles isn't actually enough/what he hoped it would be and he regrets his confession all together. Or, perhaps worst of all, what if Charles finds that the nagging fear he's buried deep down was correct all along... that he actually is like his father and capable of hurting Edwin and bastardizing the concept of love as a whole?

There are stakes when it comes to loving Edwin - if he were to screw up what they have, the consequences would be disastrous, it very well might destroy him. He cannot be careless, he cannot be impulsive, he cannot risk destroying what he and Edwin have. I'm not sure Charles has ever not loved Edwin, but he probably never humored that his Edwin: touch-reserved, buttoned-up, logical, stubborn, beautiful, kind Edwin who brought a warm light to Charles in his darkest moment, could feel that way, too... especially about him. What is he to do with that?

[asuyaka]

i keep like, struggling to click the 'ask' button, BUT—i love the taking care of geto little one shot. so what about helping him with nanako and mimiko? like he just shows up at r!'s house late as hell with two little girls with him, bc he has zero clue as to how to take care of them. m!reader is pref but idc. i love ur writing btw (＾▽＾)

★ - yesyesyesyes!! 'm soo inlove with the helpin' Suguru agenda !! ヾ(≧▽≦*)o

☆ - Girldad! Geto Suguru x Male Reader

♡ - off topic, but 'm love your writin' s'much!! really 'm inspiration t'keep writin stuff like this (≧◡≦) ♡

You were borderline asleep in your room after staying on the phone with Gojo for a few hours until he fell asleep.

It wasn't always like this, he could usually fall asleep on his own but that was when Geto was there with him. Now that's he's become a curse user and has turned his back on the Jujutsu world, everything has basically fallen apart.

Your sleepy eyes glance at the time, the saturated red of '12:42 AM' oozing into your pupils.

You try not to think about Geto so you can get some sleep for the first time in a few weeks. You two were... you're not really sure what your label is.

You two have talked, kissed, cuddled, and gone on dates, but Geto never actually put a label on your relationship and now he probably never will.

A sigh leaves your lips as you cuddle your pillow. Thinking of those big arms that used to wrap around you to keep you safe, or that warm chest that you couldn't help but use as pillows.

Needless to say, you missed him.

You weren't sure how long you stayed there almost on the verge of tears before there was a knock at your front door.

Yeah, you weren't going to open that because— A, you've seen enough horror flicks to know that there's a 99.9% chance that it's a serial killer behind the door, and B, it's 12 AM. You aren't stupid enough to open the door this late.

The knocking persisted. Getting heavier every second you didn't open it, and deciding you didn't want a noise complaint and realizing you were a sorcerer, you begrudgingly got up to open it.

You, surprisingly, were right. It was a serial killer.

Of all the people you thought it could be, you didn't think it would be Geto fucking Suguru outside your door.

"Geto? What are you—" You stopped yourself when you finally saw the two girls behind him.

His expression was something like fear and desperation as they clung onto his clothes, looking at you with weary eyes. "Please, [Name], I need help."

That took you for a spin. After the Star Plasma Vessel, you had to pry it out of him that he needed someone to take care of him, someone to help him, and now he's coming to you with two unknown children willingly asking for it?

Without a word you open your door wider, letting the three of them file in and take a seat on your couch.

You close the door, wiping the tiredness from your face and taking a deep sigh. Yeah, this was going to be a long night.

"What is it, Geto?" You ask, taking a seat on the opposing couch and staring at him. You hope your tone doesn't come up as too mean, you were just really— really tired.

The two girls never left his side. They have masks on, one of the girls with light brown hair, a white hoodie, and a black skirt was pressed on his left while the other with black hair, a black hoodie, and white skirt was pressed against his left, holding a small doll in her hands as well

"They're sick. I've tried everything, medicine, letting them rest, dilating their food but nothing's working." Geto's voice sounds helpless and it honestly scares you because this is the same Geto who went against the Sorcerer Killer.

The same Geto who killed a village, scared over the fact his two... daughters(?) were sick.

The thought brings a smile to your face as you squat in front of him, a soft expression on your face.

"What're your names, hm?"

The girls squeeze him tighter but you don't take offense to it. They're staring at a random man they've never seen before so they're obviously cautious.

"It's okay, he's my— my boyfriend, he's not going to hurt you." You notice the small pause in his voice but you won't speak on it. Not now at least.

The girls look at each other before looking at you. "Nanako." The blonde one says, her small finger pointing at the black-haired girl. "Mimiko. My sister."

You can see the adoring smile on Geto's face and you can't help the smile that tugs on your face. "Mind telling me how you guys feel? Any fevers?"

"My throat hurts and my nose is stuffy. My body feels hot sometimes too." Nanako says, interrupting herself with a cough. Geto shushes her softly, rubbing her back so she can get over her coughing fit with the comfort that her dad was beside her.

You get up, using the back of your hand to feel their foreheads. "Yeah, sounds like hay fever. You mind getting something to drink? Make sure it's hot, but not too hot to burn them."

Geto looks surprised. Maybe he didn't think you'd help him after the whole village incident— he's legally classified as a serial killer, and he's heard from word of mouth that he's a kill-on-sight curse user— but he gets up anyway. Nanako and Mimiko following behind like a pair of ducklings.

Rummaging through your medicine cabinet, you try and find fever and congestion medicine for kids. You have some, surprisingly, it's fresh and isn't expired somehow.

You don't even remember buying it— you don't require it as you didn't follow the 'strongest duo' pipeline of adopting children after the duo split up.

Walking back into the living room, you walk in on Geto blowing the steam off their cups, the recognizable scent of hot chocolate permeating the room.

"You didn't tell us you had a boyfriend, Geto-sama!" Nanako whisper yells, slightly wincing when she drinks her drink too early.

"He's pretty..." Mimiko's voice is so soft, it sends a pang of endearment through your heart. Is this what baby fever feels like?

You wait to hear what Geto says. It isn't eavesdropping if it's in your home, right?

"Yeah, sorry for not telling you it's just... complicated between us." Geto breathes out, kissing their heads as they continue to sip on their coacoa.

Complicated is one word for it, but you keep your thoughts to yourself. Announcing your arrival with an unnecessarily loud shutting of the cabinet.

"So how are you two doing? Feelin' any better?" You ask, placing the medicine on the table in front of them.

Nanako nods excitedly and Mimiko keeps it down. While waiting for them to finish, you decide to put on a movie. The Nightmare Before Christmas, a classic you, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko watched on Halloween when you were first-years.

You catch Geto's nervous glances at you but decide not to speak on it, again. It was adult business, and his kids were around.

The girls take their medicine, it's bitter, but you're sure it'll work. They persuade their dad to letting them sleep over after realizing you have a pillow fort in your room.

You don't really know why you never take it down. Maybe it's because you're too lazy, or you like being reminded of the first place you and Geto had your first kiss, but that's a whole can of emotions you're afraid of opening.

They fall asleep holding each other's pinky. Several of your stuffed animals surround them as their bodies move at the same time rhythmically. Maybe it was twin telepathy, who knows.

Now that it was only you and Geto alone, it was... awkward to say the least.

"I'm sorry for dropping in on you like that," Geto says too afraid to look you in the eye.

"Why didn't you take them to the hospital if you didn't know what was happening?" It's a genuine question, you're sure the doctors would've noticed it was a hay fever quicker than you did.

"I'm not letting those monkeys anywhere near my daughter."

Ah, you forgot he hates non-sorcerers.

You let out a breathy laugh, flopping on the cushion next to him. "I'm your boyfriend now, hm?"

Geto blushes at that. "We never technically broke up, so..."

You smile. Even after his mild— they're not mild, they're very serious— crimes, he's still the same Geto Suguru.

The same Geto Suguru you fell in love with.

"I missed you, you know?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, it's vulnerable.

"I missed you too." His hand is on your cheek and he presses a small kiss on your lips.

You've missed this, you've missed him. His hands, that boyish smile on his face the rare times you manage to get him flustered, his smooth saccharine like voice, everything about him.

As he holds his body against yours, hands intertwined and cursed energy mixing together, you realize you never want to let him go, you don't want this to end.

You want him to stay with you until the end of time.

[libby-for-life]

The Lust Potion

For 200 subscribers. A special thanks to @breedtheseed who did some wonderful art for this story. Check out their work! This is Adamsapple.

Adam was bored. Clubs in Hell, while great in theory, were so crowded and filled with sinners all trying to cop a feel of him and Angel Dust. He growled when he felt someone pull his sensitive tail. He had thought he had hidden that. Angel Dust seemed to like the attention but Adam wasn't in the mood.

He tried moving away for some fresh air, but a hand grabbed him and he was face-to-face with some wolf-looking demon. His smarmy grin made Adam shiver in disgust.

"Hey there lamby~." Ugh. Gag. Adam wrenched his hand free and glared at the wolf. "Leave me alone, asshat."

The wolf just rolled his eyes. "Whatever, slut." Adam bristled but stalked off. He just wanted to leave.

Angel Dust would be fine on his own. Stomping out of the club, a bit drunk but he was still capable of walking and speaking, he made his way to the limousine they borrowed from Charlie.

Getting inside, he sighed. God, this was a nightmare! This was supposed to be his reward for participating in Charlie’s dumb activities and 'working hard on self-improvement.' This didn't feel like a reward. He felt smothered and dirty from all the groping.

Sighing again, he decided to sleep until Angel Dust came back. He was about to close his eyes when something purple caught his eye. It was small and hidden under the seats, its glass reflecting off the pale red light of Hell. Adam smiled. Was this Angel Dust's secret stash of liquor? Nice.

Getting on his hands and knees, he pulled it out. The bottle was decorated with little black hearts, the inside glowing slightly pink. No label. No name. Oooh. The good stuff.

Adam decided to wait until he got home before drinking it.

Adam helped the spider inside and onto the couch. God, how much did he drink? "Why is he so drunk?!" Vaggie demanded, glaring up at Adam. "I'm not his babysitter, Vagina. He's a grown man in charge of his own choices. Why don't you ask him when he wakes up?" He left a fuming Vaggie as he climbed the stairs. He wasn't in the mood to deal with her sandy pussy.

His bedroom was cozy and he flopped onto his bed. Finally. Back for some peace and quiet.

Then he remembered the bottle of alcohol he had in his pocket. Damn, the stuff must be strong to only fill a small bottle. Sitting up, he took the bottle out and looked at the glowing pink liquid.

Licking his lips, he uncorked the bottle and sniffed. Sweet. Very sweet. Not really his style but considering Angel Dust preferred his sugary drinks, Adam wasn't surprised.

He took a gulp and winced at the sweetness of the pink drink. Ugh. Whatever. He was about to take another drink when he felt a warmth begin in his belly. Whoa. This stuff was strong!

He tried standing up, but his legs felt shaky for some reason. He fell to the ground, the alcoholic beverage falling to the floor. Why did everything feel so hot? He struggled to sit up but only managed that. Adam's cheeks flushed as the 'alcohol' took effect.

Everything was so warm and tingly. His body felt so sensitive. The clothes he was wearing felt itchy and Adam wanted them off.

He tried to paw at his shirt, but his hands were too warm and tingly to do anything but paw at them pathetically. He whined, the warmth in his belly spreading to his crotch. Adam was so hot and everything felt so sensitive. Why weren't his clothes coming off?!

"Adam? Charlie wanted me to—"

The lamb demon turned, looking at Lucifer who just entered his bedroom.

Lucifer just stared at the demon on the floor. He tried ignoring the position he was in and asked, "What are you doing down there?" Adam didn't say anything coherent. A whimper left his plump lips. The devil tilted his head, confused by that response. Did Adan hurt himself?

That's when he noticed it. The flush in his cheeks, the shaking posture, the drool escaping Adam's mouth, and his glazed eyes glowing pink told Lucifer there was something wrong with the lamb demon.

"Adam?"

He walked over and was about to call his name again when he kicked something. Looking down, he noticed the purple bottle on the floor, pink liquid spilling all over the wooden planks and its sweet scent filling the air. Picking it up, he examined it. Lucifer recognized it immediately. A Lust potion. Shit. Shit! How did Adam even get something like this?!

Lucifer was brought out of his thoughts by another whimper. The devil turned in time to see Adam nuzzle his crotch. He gasped in shock at the boldness. "Wait! Adam, you're—" He was cut off by another whine, a tear-filled glance up at him made Lucifer blush hard, and a part of his brain shut off. A more primal and lust-filled Lucifer took hold of his body.

His demon features poked through and he smirked at Adam’s pathetic attempt at rutting on the floor.

His poor lamb...did he have an accident? The poor thing. Did he need Daddy to help him? Kneeling, he gripped Adam's jaw and brought him close. The demon moaned at the contact.

"Oh, my little lamb. So cute and desperate like this. Want Daddy to take care of my needy little boy?" Adam whimpered and tried to get closer, his body shaking from the potion.

Lucifer chuckled and picked him up easily. Placing him on the bed, the devil ripped through his clothes, desperate to get to that supple flesh. Adam moaned as the cold air nipped at his exposed body.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" Lucifer said, kissing his jaw. The lamb demon squirmed as he was peppered with small nips and bites. "So beautiful for me." Letting his snake tongue out, he slurped Adam in for a kiss. They both groaned, tasting each other as they hugged each other close.

Lucifer was quick to take charge. He gripped Adam's hair and yanked, pulling more delicious noise from him. "That's it, my little lamb. So good for me." The devil muttered as he bit along Adam's neck before looking at the demon's chest.

His lamb's chest was so big and perky. Some of it was because he was chubby but Lucifer wondered how much of it was because Adam used to objectify those particular assets and that made his demon form more feminine-like as Hell's punishment.

Lucifer didn't care. He loved them. Taking a chosen mound, he bit its nipple and watched as Adam shook in pleasure, more drool escaping his gaping mouth.

"Aw, does my lamb like that?" Lucifer teased before sucking on it. He looped his tongue around the nub and pulled before biting again.

He let go with a pop before he licked the twin on the other side. Adam was crying, writhing under the devil's touch.

A hand snaked down and caressed his lamb's dick and the lamb almost came on the spot. "Sh. Don't go cuming right now, little lamb. Just lie there and take what Daddy gives you." With a wave of the hand, Lucifer placed some magic around Adam's hard-on. He wouldn't be cuming unless Lucifer allowed him to.

Smirking at the sight of Adam whining out pleases and tears, Lucifer shuffled down and licked the shaft of the pulsing meat before him. Just like everything about Adam, it was huge.

He licked and deep-throated the appendage while he felt Adam's hole, the ring fluttering at his gentle touches. When Lucifer felt hands in his hair, he snapped his fingers. Magic pinned Adam's wrist to the bed, making him whine in protest. The devil simply spanked his thigh to reprimand the naughty lamb.

"I said to lie there and take it, little lamb. Don't make me leave you here." An empty threat. Adam needed this lust potion out of the system or it would literally burn him from the inside. But, Adam didn't know that. The whimpers and cries were brought to a sniffle making Lucifer smirk. "Good boy~."

Kissing his thigh, he went back to deep-throating Adam's cock. His lamb took it well, shaking and crying but not fighting out of the magical restraints.

Letting go of the shaking dick, he blew it a kiss before slowly taking off his own clothes. Soon, he was naked as well. The devil's cock stood proudly and he preened when his little lamb drooled even more at the sight of it.

"You see this, little lamb? It's going inside you~." Lucifer teased before lifting Adam's thighs to the headboard. He slipped the head in. His lamb was so tight! Adam moaned high, the needy lamb shaking and thighs trembling as he took the large appendage.

"That's it! Take it! You were made for taking cock!" Lucifer yelled, pounding into Adam.

The bed rocked under their combined weight and the lamb let out squeaks and little bleats as he saw stars.

He let go of the magic surrounding Adam's dick so they could both cum together, Adam's eyes were losing that pink sheen to it.

One last thrust was all it took as Lucifer came deep inside his lamb. Adam screamed as he was finally allowed to cum. "Aaaahhh~!" The Devil looked at his little lamb who gazed back up at him.

He smirked and crawled back up to put one last mark on him. Biting his neck hard enough to draw blood, he licked at the wound while Adam groaned in pleasure and overstimulation.

"Good little lamb. Now everyone will know it was you was getting fucked tonight."

"Mmm." Was all Adam could say before passing out. Lucifer just chuckled before releasing his wrists from the magical restraints. He settled his head between Adam's chest and snuggled close. Sure, he needed to know how Adam even got that Lust potion but for now, he wanted a nap.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! When I hit 400 subs, I'll do another special!

[jalluzas-ferney]

Cole wasnt “changed” to be gay. He never was STRAIGHT in the first place.

and hell- whi says he’s strictly gay now? Cole could like girls as well for all we know 🤷‍♀️ uk like, be a Bi king or smth.

The thing is, just like people are used to seeing characters from books as white as a default until stated otherwise, just because they’re so used to it, this happens with straightness as well.

People are will BEG and SWEAR that a character is straight just because they were never outright stated to be otherwise. And emphasis on “outright stated” because even when there is coding, hinting or just blatant portrayal of it, people will still deny that that certain character is queer because it’s not like they canonically turned to the camera and told the audience that “I AM NOT STRAIGHT.”

But to them, even if the character rarely showed any interest in the opposite gender or ever really talked ab their attraction, the character is just automatically straight. It’s just inherent. Of course they’re straight.

And you know what? Even if the character does, who said Bi people don’t exist? I have a lot of Bi friends and a family member that either are bi or are dating a bi person, and their attraction towards the opposite gender has never invalidated their attraction towards the same if gender non-conforming.

And even then, a lot of gay men or lesbians have struggled with comp-het in the past, reuniting them in having tried to date or even marry people from the opposite gender only to then realize they never truly were straight, and were just compulsively trying to conform or believe that they are straight because again, straightness has always been seen as the status quo. As the normal thing to be. The default.

And this isn’t me saying that “the writers were writing Cole as a dude with comp-het this whole time” or smth because I don’t know that. And while I could theorize that I don’t think the writers really were thinking about implementing compulsive heterosexuality into this silly Lego show.

But just like I can’t assure that Cole canonically has suffered from comp-het or that he is gay and not Bi or hell he could be asexual or smth while being gay WHO KNOWS-but just like we can’t exactly assure that he is exactly one of those labels, people cannot come here and act like Cole was ever REALLY canonically straight. Hell. You could even say None of the characters of the show are STRAIGHT because who said they were? You can def interpret them as straight! But why do people insist on acting as if portraying Cole as having a male character a romantic interest as them CHANGING him as if he really ever WAS straight?

No one acts that when a character is straight that it was a huge betrayal or smth because the character was “OBVIOUSLY” gay by default. No. People just see it as normal and move on because that has always been the status quo.

Because this is a heteronormative society as much as people try to act as if making a character gay is “appealing to the world and the general public” as if straight people are suddenly oppressed. Hetero friends of mine or my family will always automatically assume I’m straight because that’s the norm to them. People will always assume someone it het or cis unless outright stated otherwise.

And if you can’t tell what’s wrong with that…

…

And you know what? Get all pissed off about it. Complain. Make petition for “saving your boy Cole” (save him from what exactly? It’s not like Christianity exists in Ninjago so yall can scratch hell out of the list at least) the season was made. The character of Geo was made. The scenes where Geo fantasized about Cole being awesome and handsome were made. Scenes where Cole and geo talk about needing each other were made. Scenes where geo and Cole hold hands and look at each other all lovey dovey were made. None of that bigoted complaining is going to change that. Theyre not going back and deleting those scenes and they’re not suddenly gonna write Geo and Cole in completely different way from what they were written before. Womp. WOMP.

[itsclydebitches]

Don't mind me, everyone, just gonna slip on my Tedependent conspiracy hat for a bit...

Okay, for real though, can we talk about how Trent's backstory in 3x06 completely re-contextualizes his dinner with Ted in 1x03? Based on my own interpretation, the implied timeline is that Trent was married to a woman, attempted to come out to her and was dismissed (perhaps in large part because they were married: what do you mean you're gay? You can't be. You love me, etc.), either having his daughter forced Trent to become more honest about what he and his family needed, or they had her in an attempt to "fix" the marriage, she gets caught in the crossfire of all this, Trent comes out again, this time his wife believes him, they divorce, are still good friends, and their daughter is happier than ever because she has two loving parents who are now living their best lives.

Given her age - 3 at the start of the series, about 6 now - that means there's a decent possibility that Trent was still married at the beginning of the show.

And that his dinner with Ted is one of the things that pushed him to try coming out again.

As his core Ted is someone who is authentic and that authenticity is what catches Trent's interest. He's dismissive of it at first, literally thinking it's a "fucking joke," only to later end up with the revelation, "You really mean that, don't you?" - that Ted honestly enjoyed spending time with him. AKA, Ted says and does what he means, even when it seems completely unbelievable. How freeing must that be to see? I'm just imagining this interview-turned-dinner through the eyes of a man who is still unhappily married, mostly closeted, and struggling to help his daughter through the stress of that dynamic. Then he meets this sunshine of a coach who is so authentically himself that it initially comes across as an act, an exaggeration, a joke. But Ted never wavers, simply refuses to be anything other than himself. Soon he's doing even more than that, breaking down gender norms by characterizing the masculine, aggressive Roy Kent as the "little girl" from A Wrinkle in Time, burdened with the responsibility of leadership. He turns what should have been the end of a horrific day of shadowing into a dinner date and Trent finds himself answering the hard-hitting questions instead of his interviewee. Ted brushes off his accusation of greed with, "Wait, I'm supposed to be getting paid?" but Trent is completely caught off guard by Ted's "What do you love?"

The textual answer is "writing" and the fun fandom answer is "you," but if this is a Trent who still hasn't fully come out yet that's! A hell! Of a question!!! A closeted, queer individual's mind is going to jump to their biggest secret and, when offered an out, they're going grasp at it, so Trent eagerly agrees with Ted's guess of "writing" the same way Colin eagerly pulls the 'This is a gay bar? Haha, my mistake' card and makes a run for the door. Reading this interaction as Trent not just being gay, but potentially being closeted and unhappily married makes it less about the journalism (this strange coach likes me and thinks I can be a good person despite my invasive career choice) and more about his sexuality. Oh, no big deal, just having an intimate dinner with another good-looking man who's questioning me on love of all things and slowly inspiring me to be the best version of myself, which would require coming out to my wife again. This is a totally normal and not at all life-changing night! I definitely don't need to run away now!!

Via this reading Trent's article feels so loaded. Ted is "out there in the community" either "bravely or stupidly facing the music." That sounds a hell of a lot like a parallel to literally coming out and facing the music of a community's potential rejection, with Ted's American background/inexperience/unique personality acting as a stand-in for sexuality; the reasons he's labeled a "wanker" before anyone actually gets to know him - as the pub trio does while those very words are narrated by Higgins.

And then we have this:

"If the Lasso way is wrong, it's hard to imagine being right.... and though I believe that Ted Lasso will fail here... I can't help but root for him."

There are other elements at play here, like the football's celebration of ego and the threat of the club being relegated, but underneath it really sounds like a still-cynical Trent wanting to see the kind of changed world that those like Ted could bring about, but not really believing that it's possible. Given his history, is he really just talking about football when it comes to "the Lasso way"? I doubt it. Trent is potentially feeling trapped at this point in time, pessimistic to the point where yes, he still thinks that Ted will fail at football and creating a more inclusive, accepting community... but even still, Trent can't help but root for him. Of course he can't. He wants what Ted is offering. He needs it.

But then, of course, Ted succeeds! Not just in doing well by the club, but by the community as a whole. He maintains that inspiration and hope until, potentially, Trent felt like he could do something about his own situation. He found the nerve and strength to try again. So he comes out to his wife, they divorce, their daughter is happy, he goes on a date with a mustached man at the local pub, ditches him to try and 'interview' Ted, blows up his career because he realizes that his job is undermining the very thing he's been rooting for and he can't not give Ted a heads up, begins shadowing Ted as he looks for something "deeper," and then comes out to Colin, gazing wistfully across the water as he imagines being able to kiss a man after a win...

I'm not saying Ted Lasso is going to go there - and I'm DEFINITELY not saying there should be ANY accusations of queer baiting if/when they don't, because we've absolutely built the majority of this ship in fandom spaces - but I AM saying that if Trent's potential intersection of his history with Ted's influence and Ted's desire to shake things up while imagining bisexual triangles actually led to something... it would be a damn well done setup!

[agirlsawalittlerose]

This is Me Trying

ModernAU!Aegon x OFC

Fresh out of rehab, Aegon Targaryen is looking for a way back into music when he meets Victoria, a talented but stubborn singer-songwriter who wants nothing to do with his family’s record label. Reluctantly thrown together, they form an unexpected creative partnership, finding common ground in music and shared struggles.

TW: Alcoholism, Addiction, Sexism

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 8: Electric Feel

What had happened at the label was absurd, and it was on the verge of becoming genuinely dangerous and counterproductive.

It was one thing to be a fucking thorn in everyone’s side—a useless junkie good for nothing but giving people headaches. Compared to what had happened the day before, even burning bridges with every collaborator Aemond had introduced him to seemed like nothing.

But putting someone else’s safety at risk just because he couldn’t go two minutes without provoking whoever was in front of him?

He should’ve stayed in rehab.

That night on that sidewalk, he should’ve…

And yet, there he was, sprawled out on their parents sofa, lazily strumming his guitar like he wasn’t the human equivalent of a dumpster fire. Like he hadn’t raised hell just to get his attic back—though Aemond had known from the start that he didn’t actually need it. He just wanted a place to fuck in peace before coming back here, throwing some beans on toast, or picking at whatever leftovers the housekeeper had made for dinner.

Completely unfit for life.

Of course, Aemond hadn’t thought his incompetence extended to something as basic as using an elevator. And yet.

If Victoria decided to tell them all to go to hell after this stunt, she’d be completely justified. Especially since, without a contract and the looming threat of a hefty penalty, it would be easy.

So he’d had Laura prepare all the documents and asked their lawyer to draft up a contract as quickly as possible.

He was skimming through section 6.3 when Aegon interrupted his thoughts.

“When are they coming back?” he asked, without much interest.

He was talking about their parents, who had fled to Barbados in a desperate attempt to soothe their mother’s anxiety over the album and everything that would come with it.

“Sunday,” Aemond replied curtly, eyes already back on section 6.3.

Aemond didn’t bother to gauge his reaction. He couldn’t have cared less. His leg kept bouncing as his eyes flicked between section 6.3 and his phone, waiting for Victoria’s response.

Texting her to come sign the contract at his place wasn’t exactly the most professional move, but the anxiety was eating him alive. The possibility of becoming an indispensable asset to the company felt both incredibly close and a messy elevator ride away.

He allowed himself a small moment of triumph when he saw her short but incredibly satisfying reply: coming.

“Victoria’s coming over,” he announced, hastily setting the contract down and looking for a more appropriate place to put it—anything to make up, at least a little, for how unprofessional this was. The coffee table in front of Aegon seemed like the best option.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, now I have to deal with her here too?” Aegon groaned, stopping the mindless tune he had been strumming and humming.

Aemond shoved his feet off the coffee table to make space for the contract.

“Well, if you hadn’t almost killed her, I could’ve had her sign it yesterday,” he shot back, barely restraining his disgust.

“Oh, come on—it was an accident! She put in just as much effort as I did to get that fucking elevator stuck,” Aegon defended himself, but Aemond wasn’t listening.

“If her presence bothers you that much, go annoy Helaena,” he said, leaning against the half-wall that separated the open kitchen from the massive living room.

“She’s editing. She doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Aegon replied, already strumming again. Lies. As if he had ever once given a shit about not disturbing people.

Aemond didn’t even have time to dwell on how irritating his brother was before his phone buzzed—Victoria was downstairs.

He made a quick sprint to the front door, pausing for some reason to adjust his hair before opening it.

“Hey,” she said the moment he let her in.

She looked tired, her fringe messy, a beer stain on her shirt.

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let her walk past him into the apartment.

“Thanks for suggesting this,” she started as he shut the door behind her and motioned for her to follow him down the hallway toward the living room. “Not to be shallow, but knowing that once I sign, you guys are legally required to pay me makes me feel a lot better.”

“Our father’s going to be away for a while,” Aemond lied smoothly. “He wanted to make sure everything was in order before he got back.”

She suddenly tensed up as soon as she stepped into the living room.

Who could blame her? She’d just spotted the atomic mushroom cloud.

"Hey," Victoria said to Aegon, definitely annoyed, though she was making an effort to sound diplomatic.

"Hey," he replied from the sofa, stopping mid-strum.

"Have a seat, Victoria," Aemond suggested, gesturing toward the sofa. But she hesitated, glancing at him first, then at Aegon, who was sprawled out across the cushions.

Luckily, that idiot picked up on it and got up, abandoning his guitar against the side of the sofa before moving over to the record player, disappearing behind the glass cabinet of vinyls.

Only then did Victoria sit down, picking up the contract and squinting at it. Probably nearsighted. Aemond thought glasses would suit her.

"If anything is unclear or if there’s something you want to discuss, just ask," Aemond said, settling into the armchair next to the sofa.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, still reading, pausing only to throw a couple of glances in Aegon's direction—probably annoyed by the racket he was making while messing with the vinyls.

"This might as well be written in ancient Greek. How can I be sure I’ll be properly credited when my contribution to the songs is significant?" she finally asked, not looking up.

Smart.

And cautious.

He couldn't blame her.

"I’m keeping track of all your sessions and exactly how much of your work makes it into the final album," Aemond replied, reaching back over the half-wall behind him to grab his notebook.

"I have no intention of screwing you over, if that’s what you’re thinking," he added, flipping it open and waving it slightly, hoping his smile looked convincing.

Of course, he had no intention of screwing her over. That notebook was his ultimate proof—his trump card—to show his father that if Aegon's album worked, it would be solely because of Victoria.

"And you’re free to check it anytime you want."

Victoria looked at him, impressed. She didn’t say anything, just nodded before turning her attention back to the contract. Though not before throwing another glance at Aegon, who had apparently finally found whatever the hell he was looking for.

Maybe now he'd stop making a mess while Aemond was handling things that were infinitely more important than his brother’s entire useless existence.

"Just to make sure you understand the technicalities. The label has final say on synchronization deals."

Victoria leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Meaning?"

Aemond looked up from his notes. "Meaning, if a brand, film, or TV show wants to use one of the songs you've written, the label decides whether to approve the deal. You'll get your cut, obviously, but you won’t have the authority to say no."

Victoria's voice was flat. "So if some toothpaste brand wants to use my lyrics, I just have to suck it up?"

Aemond gave a shrug. "If a toothpaste brand is willing to pay a six-figure licensing fee, then yes." He paused, his tone turning more serious. "I did, however, ensure that any political or ethically controversial uses will require your explicit consent."

Victoria placed a hand on her chest, dramatically feigning extreme gratitude. The gesture made him laugh.

"Next," Aemond continued, shifting back to business. "The advance. You’ll receive a non-recoupable advance of twenty-five thousand."

Victoria frowned. "Non-recoupable? Are you serious?"

Aemond was matter-of-fact. "Would you rather they front you money you'd have to pay back with your own royalties? Because that’s the standard."

Victoria grumbled under her breath. "Fine. How soon do I get it?"

"Half upon signing, half once production is complete."

"And the royalties?"

"Quarterly payouts, standard processing time of sixty days post-accounting. Meaning, if the album drops in January, you'll see your first check around July."

Victoria shook her head. "I love how artists are the last ones to get paid."

Aegon let out a chuckle at that, as he got up, pulling a vinyl from its sleeve. Victoria suddenly turned her head toward him.

"That’s the industry," Aemond said dryly, trying to bring her focus back to the important matters.

Aemond continued. "Right of first refusal. If you write anything new, intended for the album, during the next eighteen months, the label gets first dibs. If they pass, you're free to shop it elsewhere."

Victoria narrowed her eyes. "So, basically, if I come up with something great, I’m stuck waiting on their approval before I can do anything with it?"

Aemond's voice was calm. "Not stuck. Just... on hold."

Victoria’s tone was flat. "Right. Totally different."

Aemond leaned in slightly, making eye contact. "You’re getting a fair deal, Victoria. Most labels would lock you in for years. I got them to limit it to eighteen months, no exclusivity after that."

Victoria scoffed. "How generous."

The sound of music filled the room, followed by the sliding door to the terrace opening and the click of a lighter. Aemond noticed Victoria turn her head again, watching Aegon at the open door, smoking and gently bobbing his head to the music. Her expression was one of someone barely containing the urge to comment, but Aemond quickly redirected her attention.

"Arrangements," he said, sliding the contract toward her and pointing. "The label and producer have full creative control."

"No," Victoria said firmly. "No way."

Aemond raised an eyebrow. "You expected to have veto power?"

Victoria crossed her arms, leaning back. "I expect to have a say. If they completely butcher my songs, I just have to live with it?"

Aemond's tone was cool. "Not completely. You'll be consulted. But final decisions on production choices—instrumentation, mixing, even lyrical edits—will rest with them."

"Why?" Victoria asked, her voice demanding an explanation.

"Because they’re investing in the album. And investments require control."

Victoria exhaled sharply, sitting back. "Wow, and you really softened this for me?"

Aemond nodded. "You should’ve seen the first draft."

"Jesus," Victoria muttered, grimacing.

Aemond smiled, then pulled out the pen he had tucked into his notebook and handed it to her.

Victoria stared at it for a moment before turning back toward Aegon. Aemond couldn’t blame her. He just hoped—desperately—that his brother, the elevator incident, and even just his presence in the room wouldn’t be enough to make her change her mind at the last second.

But then Victoria exhaled sharply and nearly snatched the pen from his hand.

“Fuck it. Better sign now, because if I think about it for another two seconds, my brain will explode,” she muttered before bending over the coffee table and finally marking the blank space at the bottom of page 26 with her name.

She had a nice signature.

Aemond felt a wave of relief crash over him, almost startled by the sheer euphoria the transaction caused him. His plan was working—despite Aegon’s best efforts to ruin his life.

When Victoria finished signing, she dropped the pen onto the table with a clatter.

“I need a cigarette. Writing my name has never been this exhausting,” she said.

Aemond smirked, pulling out his steel cigarette case and offering it to her. Victoria accepted without hesitation. He took one for himself as well and followed her toward the balcony doors, where Aegon was still smoking, staring into space, drumming his fingers against his thigh.

Aemond held out his lighter, but Victoria shook her head, showing him her own. She thanked him silently with a small nod before lighting up.

“This could be the best album of the last twenty years,” she said suddenly, looking over at Aegon.

He turned his gaze from the void to her but remained unfazed.

“I liked Junk too, but Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming is an unrepeatable masterpiece,” Aegon replied.

Aemond had no fucking clue what they were talking about.

“Literally the soundtrack of my life,” Victoria said with a smile. “Or at least, I wish it was. My life is probably way too boring for M83 to be its soundtrack.”

Aegon turned to face her fully, leaning his back against the half-open door.

“I know, right?” he said, flicking his cigarette to shake off the ash. “Those bastards make me feel a weird kind of nostalgia I don’t even understand.”

Victoria’s face lit up. She didn’t hesitate.

“Like nostalgia for a life you never lived—and probably never will?”

“Exactly! Fuck, yes! I couldn’t have said it better myself!” Aegon exclaimed, smacking her shoulder with a little too much enthusiasm.

Victoria tensed. There it was—that familiar, grating idiocy. Incapable of any kind of human interaction without being either obnoxious or excessive.

Still, she straightened, acting as if nothing had happened.

“You know how people like to theorize about what music plays in heaven?” she asked.

Aegon thought for a moment. “No doubt about it. Hoppípolla by Sigur Ros plays on an eternal loop—it’s perfect, and there’s no risk of ever getting tired of it.”

Victoria let out a sharp laugh, almost choking on her cigarette smoke in her eagerness to agree.

“FUCK! I’ve never thought about that before, but it’s perfect!”

Aemond glanced at her. She seemed genuine.

“For me, though,” Victoria continued, smirking, “Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming is what plays in purgatory.” It sounded like something she had been waiting a long time to say but had never had the chance to share.

“One hundred percent. And Lower Your Eyelids to Die With the Sun is what the universe plays the moment you’re dying,” Aegon said, grinning at her.

“Or what will play the moment the world ends,” Victoria countered.

“Oh my fucking god, Vic, dark,” Aegon chuckled.

“I know, sorry,” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead with a laugh.

“No, no, it’s perfect—I totally see your vision,” Aegon reassured her, still laughing.

Aemond had had enough.

“Do you want something to drink?” he cut in abruptly. Both Aegon and Victoria turned their heads toward him at the same time.

Victoria smiled, and Aemond felt his shoulders loosen slightly.

“On any other occasion, I’d say don’t bother,” she said, riding the high of the conversation. “But does the label, by any chance, offer me a beer as a signing bonus?”

Aemond returned the smile, nodding slightly.

“Of course.”

As he turned toward the kitchen, his brother’s obnoxious voice rang out behind him.

“Grab one for me too?”

Aemond rolled his eyes.

Fucking parasite.

He took two beers from the fridge and set them on the island, then searched for a bottle of red wine to open for himself.

Canned Guinness was disgusting.

In the background, Victoria was animatedly recounting how she had seen M83 live three times earlier that year, and Aegon mentioned that he had seen them a few years ago. He had to skip last year’s tour because he had been in rehab.

Aemond glanced up, watching for Victoria’s reaction to the mention of rehab, but she didn’t even blink. She just kept chatting cheerfully, praising the band, Anthony Gonzalez, and the same album that was still playing in the living room.

Aemond wasn’t sure how to process this sudden common ground between them. He took a moment to observe them more closely while he poured himself a glass of the finest red he had found.

Pinot Noir, 2021. Santenay Premier Cru Les Gravières.

Well, this was certainly better than having to call in the studio techs after every session because the two of them had trashed the place.

And Victoria, even if she wasn’t a professional yet, probably understood the weight of the opportunity she had been given. Maybe she was making an effort to present herself in a more mature way than his brother.

Perhaps her enthusiasm was a good thing. A sign that she was opening up—to their name, to the contract, to the possibility of signing as an artist herself.

To them. To his plan. To him.

Aemond thought back to their conversation that night at the pub. Victoria knew what it was like to have a difficult brother. Maybe she was just better than he was at dealing with lost causes.

He put the wine bottle back in the cellar. On any other occasion, the idea that someone could be better than him at anything would have annoyed him. But not this time.

This time, as he approached the two of them, still deep in conversation, he felt something closer to admiration. And when he handed Victoria her beer and she gave him a genuine smile, thanking him, the sudden shift in his stomach confirmed it.

He had bet on the right artist.

*****

Vic and Sara had, of course, met on SpareRoom.

When Vic’s old roommate announced she was leaving for Cambodia to embark on some kind of spiritual journey—one Vic had no intention of questioning, lest she get roped into yet another analysis of her dark and depressed soul—the last thing she wanted was to go through the whole ordeal of finding someone new to split the rent with.

But the moment Sara stepped through the door of the available room and made a comment about the billions of Post-it notes covering an entire wall—left behind by the hippie roommate, each one filled with aggressively positive affirmations—it became clear the search was over.

“Are you sure you weren’t living with a member of the Manson family?” Sara had said, and Vic had immediately fallen in love with her.

Beyond an absent father—and, as a result, a shared disdain for straight men—Vic and Sara also had a common passion for music, though in different forms. Sara, with her dramatic energy and the kind of presence that turned heads every time she entered a room, was destined to be an actress. She had moved to London from a small town in the North to chase her dream of making it on the West End.

Unfortunately, lacking both the malice and that particular brand of strategic evilness required to win over casting directors in non orthodox ways, she had to settle for a temporary job while waiting for her big break. Vic had been thrilled to bring her into the pub. Tony had adored her from the start—she wasn’t as efficient or precise as Vic, but she had a way of captivating customers, keeping them at the bar for hours, talking, laughing, and ordering round after round of drinks. Vic usually made them for her, just so she wouldn’t have to break the spell of whatever wild story she was weaving.

Some were fragments of real life, embellished for dramatic effect, of course. Others were completely made up, always with her as the protagonist—tales so compelling that not a single old-timer at the bar ever doubted their truth.

Vic found Sara’s lightness utterly captivating. Sometimes, she even envied her ability to avoid falling into the trap of self-sabotage. But Sara was so incredible that her magic extended even to Vic, reminding her—when Vic let her—that she, too, could choose not to self-sabotage.

Not that it always worked. Vic was stubborn, and Sara—despite what Vic might have sworn—was not actually a fairy-tale fairy.

That's why, that morning, when she saw her emerge from the alley in Leicester Square where she had disappeared—unexpectedly early and stomping furiously toward her—Vic was confused.

“What happened?” she asked, getting up from the stone bench near the Harry Potter statue. She had just bought herself a coffee, and if she’d known Sara would be out this soon, she would have grabbed one for her too.

“That absolute dickhead of a director,” Sara snapped, dropping onto the bench with enough force that Vic could swear it creaked. She wrestled with her lighter, trying to spark the cigarette dangling from her lips.

Vic raised an eyebrow and gestured for her to continue.

Sara took a deep breath, finally managing to light the cigarette. “Two minutes. Two fucking minutes of singing, and then he cuts me off. And you know what he does next? Starts grilling me with crazy questions. ‘What’s your favorite Sondheim musical?’ ‘Can you name all the Olivier Award-winning productions of the last ten years?’ ‘Do you think Andrew Lloyd Webber’s influence on modern theater is net positive or negative?’”

Vic let out a low whistle. “Jesus. Did he want you to perform or write a dissertation?”

“Right?!” Sara gestured wildly, nearly smacking Vic with her cigarette. “I mean, I love musicals. I live for this shit. But am I supposed to memorize the entire history of the West End just to prove I can belt out a song?”

Vic took a sip of her coffee, nodding. “Honestly, sounds like he was just stroking his own ego.”

“Oh, it gets better.” Sara leaned forward, eyes blazing. “So after this interrogation, he asks me to do a cold read of a monologue. Fine, whatever. I start reading, and halfway through, he’s looking at his phone. His fucking phone, Vic. Didn’t even try to hide it. And then—then—when I finish, he just sits there for a second like he forgot I existed and goes, ‘Hmm. Do you have any dance experience?’”

Vic blinked. “Dance experience? Was that even in the audition brief?”

“Of course not! If it was, I wouldn’t have dragged my ass out of bed at six a.m. to get there on time!” Sara threw up her hands. “So I tell him, ‘Well, I can move. I mean, I’m not a trained ballerina, but I can handle choreography.’ And he does this face, Vic. Like I just told him I had tuberculosis.”

Vic exhaled sharply through her nose. “Pretentious wanker.”

“Right? And then he goes, ‘Hmm. That’s a shame. This role requires someone with a strong dance background.’ And I’m sitting there thinking, then why the fuck did you call me in?”

“That’s some next-level bullshit,” Vic muttered.

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Sara said, voice dripping with venom. “Because then, after all that, after treating me like a goddamn TED Talk on musical theater and deciding I wasn’t ‘dancy’ enough for a role that, mind you, had no mention of dance in the casting call, you know what he says?”

Vic could already tell she wasn’t going to like the answer. “What?”

Sara took a long drag of her cigarette, exhaled, and then mimicked the director’s voice with exaggerated smugness: “‘You’re very pretty, but I just don’t think you’re the right fit.’”

Vic’s grip on her cup tightened. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah. Yeah. As if that was ever relevant. Like, what does that even mean? Should I just accept my fate and become a decorative prop on stage?”

“You should’ve told him you’d love to discuss it further over dinner and then stabbed him with a salad fork,” Vic muttered.

Sara snorted, finally exhaling a long stream of smoke. “Don’t tempt me.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the noise of Leicester Square filling the silence between them.

Then Vic nudged her. “Listen. That guy’s an asshole, but you are good. You know that, right?”

Sara gave a half-hearted shrug.

“And auditions are bullshit. Half the time, they don’t even know what they’re looking for until they see it. Maybe you weren’t what he had in mind, but that doesn’t mean you’re not talented. It just means he’s got shit taste.”

"He has shit everything," Sara muttered under her breath, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. She looked like a sulking child, but there was no mistaking the exhaustion in her voice. Her big green eyes, usually so full of fire, were dulled by disappointment, and something about it made Vic’s chest tighten.

Vic refused to let her sit in that feeling.

An idea sparked in her mind, and she nudged Sara’s knee with her own. “Well, at least you’ve got the rest of the day free, right?” she said, her voice deliberately light.

Sara sighed, still staring at the ground. “Yeah. And to think, I actually believed I’d make it to the second round. What an idiot.”

Vic’s stomach twisted. She knew that voice. The one that picked at you from the inside, kicking you when you were already down.

"Sara..." she said, her tone firm but gentle. A warning.

Sara huffed, like she already knew what was coming, but Vic caught the way her fingers tightened around the cigarette.

“Come to the studio with me,” Vic suggested, tilting her head toward her.

Sara scoffed. “Oh, come on, Vic. I don’t want to get in your way while you deal with your—what’s the word?—oh yeah, tormentors.”

Vic rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Nonsense. Fuck them. I’m not leaving you alone, not even for the ridiculously overpriced contract I signed the other night.”

That seemed to snap Sara out of it. Her whole face lit up, a little of the usual spark flickering back in her eyes. “Alright then! But we’re taking the stairs.”

Vic laughed, shaking her head as she downed the last sip of her coffee. “Of course we are.”

Once they arrived, Vic was surprised to find both brothers already in the studio, ready for the session.

“Morniiiiing,” she greeted, tiptoeing in with a guilty expression, hoping they wouldn’t make a fuss about Sara joining them that morning.

If either of them dared to make her feel unwelcome—especially today, of all days—she was fully prepared to smack them both over the head with one of Viserys Targaryen’s ridiculously expensive semi-acoustic guitars.

Both of them turned sharply as Vic shut the door behind Sara. It was obvious that Aemond was holding back a comment, sitting on the usual sofa with his ever-present notebook at his side, though he still managed to shoot her one of those disapproving looks he usually reserved for Aegon. Vic ignored him and turned her attention to Aegon, who pushed his sunglasses up from the bridge of his nose to the top of his head.

“Morning, princess,” he chirped, totally unfazed by the unexpected guest, before going back to lazily strumming the Telecaster slung over his shoulder.

“You remember Sara, right?” Vic said casually, dropping her bag on the sofa next to Aemond’s notebook and rummaging through it.

“Of course. The very single one,” Aegon replied with a chuckle.

Vic rolled her eyes, already gearing up to tell him off, but then she heard Sara answer, amused, “Indeed,” and decided to let it go—for now. At least Sara didn’t seem uncomfortable.

“This is supposed to be a closed session,” Aemond said sharply, almost under his breath, leaning toward Vic. She paused just long enough to meet his gaze.

“Sara’s an amazing singer. Her input could be valuable. And she’s excellent at keeping secrets,” Vic replied evenly, unbothered by the reprimand. She turned to Sara as if to confirm, and Sara wordlessly ran a hand across her lips, miming locking them shut.

Vic grinned before going back to digging through her bag.

“If we’re making this about who belongs here and who doesn’t,” Aegon chimed in, “I’ve explained to you multiple times that your presence in this studio unsettles me and distracts me from the delicate artistic process we’re engaged in, but you’ve never given a single shit about that.”

His tone was meant to sound serious, but it was unintentionally hilarious.

“Well, I am the artistic producer,” Aemond shot back icily.

“Really? That’s the first time I hear that,” Aegon replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Vic finally found what she was looking for, pulled out a book, and walked over to Aegon.

“Here, Pete Davidson,” she said, handing it to him.

Aegon frowned in confusion, taking the book from her hands. “What’s this?”

“Sweet Anticipation by David Huron. Completely changed the way I think about songwriting. You might like it,” she explained.

Aegon looked up from the cover and smiled at her.

Vic felt her face suddenly flush, cursing herself for not thinking ahead. Because, of course, along with this purely professional gesture, there had to come his gratitude. And probably—no, definitely—one of those damn perfectly white, 32-tooth smiles.

The “Thanks,” he said, sincere and warm, hit her like a grand piano falling from the sky, forcing her to get as far away from him as possibile.

She made a noise—one that, in her head, was supposed to mean “Don’t mention it”—before promptly turning on her heel and making a beeline for the piano.

“It’s a shame Aegon can’t read,” Aemond remarked caustically, clearly pleased with himself as he flipped open his notebook.

“What a mean thing to say,” Sara chimed in suddenly, gracefully throwing herself onto the sofa beside him.

Aemond shot her a baffled look, while Vic had to bite back a laugh. Yep—bringing Sara had been an excellent idea.

“You tell him, very single Sara,” Aegon said absentmindedly, still focused on the Telecaster as he resumed strumming.

“We’re brothers. This is normal,” Aemond replied, composing himself like he was explaining a basic life lesson to a first grader. He turned to Sara expectantly.

“I’m an only child,” she said defiantly.

“That explains it,” he declared flatly, giving her a once-over and then flipping through his notebook as if nothing had happened.

Sara ignored him right back, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, glancing between Aegon and Vic, who was settling in at the piano.

“So, what’s the plan for today? Completely break the elevator? Full building blackout? Plague of locusts?” she asked, a little too on edge.

Unfortunately, since she only ever heard about these sessions secondhand from Vic, she had no idea how mind-numbingly boring they could actually get.

Aegon snorted, and Vic echoed his amusement—earning them both yet another withering side-eye from Aemond.

“I was actually thinking of starting with your song,” Vic said, looking at Aegon.

He froze for a second, clearly not expecting that.

Vic noticed him swallow—not that she had been looking at him, his neck or the glimpse of his chest visible through his half-unbuttoned shirt or anything.

And fuck, it wasn’t her fault he wore an entire goddamn jewelry store around his neck that jingled every time he moved his head, or that his tattoos were right there.

By the time she’d finished her entirely inappropriate and unprofessional train of thought, Aegon had already recovered from his initial surprise.

“Sure,” he answered—sharp, steady, and, surprisingly, proud.

Vic settled her hands on the piano keys, trying to ignore the strange heat creeping up the back of her neck. It was fine. Completely fine.

Aegon adjusted his guitar strap and tapped the Telecaster’s body, his gaze flicking toward her. “Alright, so where were we?”

“You tell me,” Vic said, tilting her head—giving him the reins.

Aegon tentatively strummed the progression with that tweak Vic had suggested the day of the elevator incident, then fell into the progression like muscle memory. Vic followed, pressing into the keys as if the melody had been waiting there the whole time.

Aegon’s strumming stuttered for half a second. He shot her a quick look—half surprised, half impressed—but didn’t say anything. Just kept playing, adjusting to her seamlessly.

Something twisted in Vic’s stomach. She ignored it.

“Oh, that works,” Sara murmured from the sofa, sounding about 40% invested in the song and 60% invested in watching them.

Aemond made a noise that could have meant I approve or I hate this. Impossible to tell.

But Vic wasn’t paying attention to either of them. She was watching Aegon, who was watching her, both unconsciously shifting to match the other.

Well. That was new.

“You should bring the second verse up sooner,” she said, unwilling to acknowledge whatever the hell was happening here.

Aegon arched a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She played under the line, letting the shift settle into place.

Aegon adjusted immediately, picking it up without hesitation.

Too easy. Too easy.

And then he smirked, because of course he did. “Damn, princess. That’s good.”

Vic gathered all the coolness she could muster. “I know.

Aegon laughed, and for some reason, it made her want to throw something at him. Or maybe kiss him. Or maybe just slam the piano lid shut and walk out.

Suddenly, it was fun. She liked how he adjusted his rhythm to fit hers, how she let him lead without losing herself in it.

She scowled at the keys like it was their fault.

Vic cleared her throat. “Again. From the top.”

Aegon’s grin widened. “Bossy.”

“Shut up and play.”

And he did.

And, annoyingly, it was good. Again.

So they ran through it again. And again.

And okay—maybe Vic was enjoying this a little too much. Professionally, obviously. Because she wasn’t used to sharing the creative process. She had never even done it with Charlie, and yet suddenly this fucking nepo baby just got it—adjusting on instinct, following her changes without hesitation, pushing back just enough to make the song better.

It was infuriatingly natural. And fun.

Not that she was going to tell him that.

After the third run-through, she cut him off mid-chorus. “Okay, this—this actually works.”

Aemond, still unreadable, tapped his pen against his notebook. “The progression is solid. The chorus sticks. But the lyrics in the bridge could be stronger.”

Aegon groaned, flopping back dramatically. “Fucking knew you were gonna say that.”

Then, with the expression of a teenager forced to leave a party too soon, irritation flickering in his eyes, he shrugged. “Alright, genius. Fix it.” He said, turning to Vic.

“You’re fixing it with me,” she shot back, pointing at him.

Aegon stared at her for a second, like he hadn’t quite understood. “Yes, ma’am.”

They leaned over his notebook, which rested on his amp. Vic tapped the page with the end of his pen. “The phrasing’s off. You’re stuffing too many syllables into the first line.”

“Oh, I’m stuffing too many syllables?” Aegon repeated, feigning offense.

“Yes,” Vic said flatly.

He put a hand over his heart. “Unbelievable. Insulted in my own studio.”

“Not your studio,” Aemond muttered.

Aegon ignored him. “Alright, fine. Where do we cut it?”

Vic hummed the bridge under her breath, fingers drumming against her knee. “Here, I think.” She pointed to a section and crossed out a couple of words.

Aegon narrowed his eyes at it. “That works, but now the second line feels unbalanced.” He tapped the notebook. “What if we stretched it out here?”

Vic considered it, adjusting the words, shifting the stress on the syllables.

She couldn’t help but glance at him from her vantage point standing while he remained seated, the Telecaster in his lap like a brick wall between them—yet not nearly enough to keep the electricity of his proximity at bay.

He was focused, slipping off his sunglasses and setting them on the amp, running a hand through his hair. His dedication to what they were doing was, without a doubt, the most attractive thing about his already perfect face.

Vic had to snap out of it.

She tested the new bridge under her breath.

Aegon nodded. “Yeah, that flows better. But—” He hesitated. “The last line’s still missing something. Needs a sharper hook.”

Vic glanced at him. Serious. Focused. Not performing.

“Okay,” she said, softer now. “What about this?”

She muttered a phrase, half-formed, and Aegon caught onto it instantly, tweaking it, flipping the words just enough to make them hit harder.

They both paused. Looked at the notebook. Looked at each other.

The electricity had just turned into the blackout Sara had been hoping for moments earlier.

That worked.

Aegon tested it, letting the words slip into the melody, adjusting his grip on the guitar as if he already knew how it was supposed to sound.

And Vic—felt it. The way their instincts locked together like it had always been there, waiting.

Well. That was dangerous.

Vic cleared her throat and turned to Aemond. “See? Stronger.”

Aemond, who—thankfully—didn’t seem to have noticed whatever that had been, nodded slowly. “It’s an improvement.”

Vic ignored all of it. “Alright. Again.” She all but ran toward the piano.

Aegon, still watching her, huffed a quiet laugh.

Then he nodded, adjusting his grip on the guitar.

They ran through it once more, and this time, it was perfect.

The song settled into place like it had always been meant to be there, like they hadn’t just stitched it together minutes ago. The whole thing locked into rhythm, effortless, inevitable.

Aegon played the last chord, let it ring out, then exhaled sharply.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “That’s it.”

Vic, heartbeat unreasonably fast, forced herself to act normal. “Took you long enough.”

Aegon shot her a look—half amused, half something else—but didn’t argue.

From the sofa, Sara let out a slow breath.

Vic turned to her and—oh.

Sara was grinning, wide-eyed, unable to look away from them like she had just witnessed something borderline supernatural.

Vic frowned. “What?”

Sara glanced between the two of them, then turned to Aemond, her voice equal parts amused and stunned.

“Are they always like this?”

Aemond, who had spent the entire session watching with careful scrutiny, didn’t answer immediately.

He just blinked once. Then, in a voice far more controlled than his expression:

“No.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 16: Struggling

Word Count: 658

Rating: T

CW: Langauge

Summary: A letter from Eddie to you. Yes, YOU.

@corrodedcoffinfest

Hello Fellow Freaks,

So, it’s come to my attention that things have been a little rough for you lately, huh? Shit, I know all about that. I’d recap some of the misfortunes I’ve had in my life, but seeing as you read and write about me, I think you’re pretty up to speed. In fact, some of you have written me struggling as a way for you to feel better about your own. And I don’t mind that at all. That’s what I’m here for, anyway. I belong to you. I’m for you. 

You all bring me to life every time you click on a new story and choose to take an adventure with me. The fact that you want to spend time with a freak like me blows my mind sometimes. 

You know I was never cool or popular. Maybe you weren’t either. I honestly never gave a shit because I had the most metal people around me. I hope that you do too. But even if you don’t, you’re more than welcome to share my friends. All us lost sheep know what it’s like to struggle. 

And if you’re struggling right now, there’s something I want to let you know. It’s okay.

It’s okay that you’re struggling right now. We all do it and we all need it sometimes to help mold us into whatever we’re supposed to be. Sometimes struggle makes us work harder. Sometimes it makes us curl up in a ball and want to hide away forever. The curling up part of that is okay, but the hiding away forever isn’t.

You’re stronger than you think you are. Wondering how I know this, are you? Little known fact is that I’m actually a pretty smart dude. Occasionally. Anyway, here’s the answer: you’re here. You’ve overcome all the struggles of your past to be where you are now. And if you could do it then, you can do it again now and in the future. That strength is inside of you. I promise. Sometimes it just takes some effort and patience to find where it’s stored. 

Know what else is awesome? Not only do you have me when you’re struggling, you have the others who write and read stories about me. Because even if it doesn’t seem like it, they’re struggling with something too. Carrying the burden isn’t as heavy when you’ve got someone to shoulder it with you. Help ease one another’s loads. I’m trying so hard not to make a cum joke right now. 

It doesn’t matter if you’re in pain, so you want to write me in pain to cope, or if you want to read about me taking care of you and helping you through it. It’s beautiful how I can be there in any way that you need me. I’m there with you to celebrate, cry, laugh, heal, and even some spicier stuff I will not get into here. Even if I enjoy it very much.

No matter how hard life tries to make you feel like you’re isolated, you’re not. Hell, I hid out in a vacant house for a few days where not a single person knew I was. Lonely? Yeah. Very. There’s only so many cans of Chef Boyardee you can look at without wanting to start up a conversation with the guy on the label. And yeah, it did get to me at times. I felt that there was no one out there who would believe me or see my side of things. Goddamn surprise to find out I had way more people in my corner than I ever would’ve guessed. I just didn’t know it yet. That group of people is there for you, too. Even if you don’t know it yet. 

And I’m one of those people. If you ever forget that, all you have to do is start a new story, and there I am. 

From

Signed

Your Dungeon Master

Love,

Eddie

[courtney-deserved-better]

since i don’t have time to write fics for wlw week here are some wlw headcanons! @total-drama-wlw

(if i didn’t list a woman on here it’s not bc i necessarily headcanon her as straight and more that i don’t have a specific sexuality headcanon for her in general that fits this post)

beth - bisexual and i don’t think she realizes she also likes girls until in between tda and tdwt. something about her and lindsay’s trip to paris makes her realize she likes girls and she comes out to lindsay while they’re literally in jail and lindsay is the most supportive bestie ever. beth is also sometimes a lesbian to me. as a treat.

bridgette - if she had to label her sexuality she’d probably say bisexual but i think she prefers to not use a label and just vibe.

courtney - lesbian forever and ever in my heart 💜 don’t even get me started on her (affectionate)

gwen - bisexual who’s known she’s bisexual for a while and is very chill about it until she gets her first full blown crush on a girl and then she starts freaking out (not about being bisexual, she just doesn’t know how to handle a girl crush when she can barely handle a guy crush)

heather - lesbian but doesn’t realize it at first, just thinks she’s not into guys because she’s smarter and more strategic than all these other girls who are letting feelings get in the way of a million dollars

katie & sadie - started off very boy crazy but i think over time they were more into the idea of a relationship and a partner to obsess over than the boys themselves. but they’re not ready to come out to the other person because it will make them different so they both keep up the boy crazy act until finally they’re like… wait a minute we’re both lesbians and then they probably start dating each other or something. they give me the vibe of girls who were super into dan and phil and then realized they were more into the idea of having that kind of relationship with someone of the same gender than into guys. if that makes any sense.

sierra - not sure of her exact label but she’s a girl liker in at least one alternate universe

leshawna - probably a lesbian who isn’t quite ready to come out yet, still figuring herself out and experiencing occasional attraction to men which confuses her

eva - she’s a butch lesbian to me 💜

anne maria - bisexual and chill as hell about it

jo - butch lesbian who struggles to date because she has issues with femininity but she also views other butch women as competition. girlie has a lot she needs to work out

ella - either bisexual or comphet lesbian

jasmine - bisexual and i think also poly, she’d be down to date shawn and sammy at the same time

sammy - lesbian and in the closet because she doesn’t want amy to know and bully her (amy is also a lesbian but she’ll still bully sammy)

sky - also either bisexual or lesbian comphet

axel - ive seen her as a lesbian from day one (no im not projecting because she’s the td character who looks the most like me) but bisexual axel also intrigues me. truly depends on the situation

tdi emma - bisexual but everyone thinks she’s straight. after season two when they’ve become friends again, bowie finds out she’s bisexual and needs a day to recover from the shock

julia - bisexual but heavily prefers women, refuses to show emotional weakness and therefore doesn’t date anyone for a while

millie - lesbian who always gets crushes on straight girls so she never pursues them, very pessimistic about any crushes she does get

mk - lesbian but doesn’t want to date because love is lame

nichelle - lesbian who keeps her relationships private from the media not because she’s closeted but because she doesn’t want her love life plastered in tabloids

priya - my brain says bisexual but my heart says lesbian. my headcanons contain multitudes

rr emma - she’s either a lesbian or bisexual who is so much more attracted to men that she hesitates to label herself as bi. there’s literally no in between

jen - lesbian, she and tom are wlw/mlm solidarity, they are each others’ biggest hypemen when getting ready for dates

kitty - she’s either pan or aro and still figuring that out for herself. knows she is attracted to everyone equally but doesn’t know if the level of attraction is yes or no

the geniuses - that’s just a lesbian couple

the vegans - that’s a lesbian ex-couple who stayed friends but uh. that was maybe not the wisest choice

sanders - lesbian who is either dating macarthur or knows she deserves better. idk what macarthur’s deal is in the second scenario but she would be so protective of sanders if she got a girlfriend. immediately started imagining a fic where sanders and jo start dating and it creates this big rivalry between jo and macarthur that sanders has to deal with but that rivalry turns into a friendship which relieves sanders until she realizes that they two enable each other and now she’s like “idk if this is worse”

[rebo-chan]

ALRIGHT SKJHN LAST POST EVERYONE I PROMISE

So, if you know me at all, have spoken to me anytime in the last year. You know, how unbelievably annoying I am about the last frame of the manga. The "My teacher, my partner, my angel without wings.. or maybe that's giving him too much credit." OAGH.

Now, Amano absolutely is just letting that be a homage to the beloved anime that brought so many fans to their series. BUT, because I'm delusional, that immediately made me go look at the english lyrics of Drawing Days and make me draw conclusions about the characters because thats what I DO. I MAKE SHIT UP. <3 I just wanted to drag you all into this Drawing Days hell with me, because these lyrics are HURTFUL. In general though, when it came to the lyrics, they were so clearly about Tsuna but with Amano labeling REBORN the angel without wings, clearly I HAVE TO LOOK AT IT FROM BOTH PERSPECTIVES AND SEE THE LYRICAL PARALLELS THESE TWO HAVE.

This will likely be another long post so fkjhgnsh heres the cut:

Our beautiful english lyrics.

So, the narrator depicts themselves as having met an angel who doesn't have the map to go home. For their sake, they pick up a paintbrush and start drawing it for them. They talk about how a cat laughs at the narrator, as they stumble through life without purpose but through this angel, they've found a purpose in drawing this map for this angel and how they'll keep drawing out this map no matter what they lose throughout because they care that much. (Dying will much? The resolve to do something even as your body is being destroyed?) No, but its clear that Tsuna is the narrator here, who stumbled through life without purpose until he found one in his family, and the angel without wings that brought those opportunities for him.Everything about feeling powerless but picking up a paintbrush anyway to help someone. Isn't that just him?

With Amano pointing out that Reborn is the angel without wings, that made me want to become a little ball and explode. Because the angel without wings had said they had lost the map to go home, implying a sort of lostness to the angel too and needing help from someone else to make its way home. And that's just what we learn about Reborn in rainbow arc!! He lived a life where he was overly cautious and trusted no one, and was mostly alone if him coming home to an empty house with no one but his chameleon seemed to imply. Only for his life to seem to 'freeze' at the moment he was cursed, and he believed he would just die without meaning in this world. How he had everything about his old life erased, and wandered himself into exile. It's through becoming a mentor that he finds a purpose for himself, and finds someone to draw that map for him to go home. And isn't it just so special that the map that he was drawn to go home gave him the freedom to choose where he'd go next? That his purpose was to live, and he chose to whirl back around and come back to the person who drew him a map? ISNT THAT JUST SPECIAL? SHAKES THEM BOTH VIOLENTLY.

Leaning on each other, as the cat laughed at them both struggling to live, they painted together a prayer that encompasses every wish.

[drop-dead-dropout]

Fuck's a pro shipper?

We've got a new one boys try not to scare em off /j

Okay but seriously, I'm more than happy to explain. I assume that if you're asking this question you're not aware of the proshipper vs antishipper, uh, "conflict", I guess. So, here is what both of those terms mean, to the best of my descriptive abilities:

Antishipper (often just "anti"): someone who vaguely believes that consuming problematic fiction (usually specifically problematic sexual fiction like lolicon or incest) is either a true reflection of them as a person or a corrupting force that will cause them to play out these desires in real life, onto real people. Basically, if you read age gap, you touch real kids in real life or secretly want to.

Proshipper (sometimes "profic"): someone who does not believe the above, and believes that fiction is not the same as reality because it doesn't harm anyone and therefore people should be left alone as long as you have no reason to believe that they would ever do something like that irl. Often hand in hand with things like anti censorship, kink positive, etc, though being a proshipper does not necessarily mean you have a problematic ship or kink yourself (example: me).

You're probably asking this question because you saw me day in my bio that I am a proshipper. I've tried to stay neutral in this initial description, but obviously I probably didn't manage to be completely unbiased considering that I believe myself to be right (most people do) so if you want to ask further questions after this that's perfectly fine. That being said:

Why am I a proshipper?

So, to understand this, let's first look over the issues within both communities— every group has issues, after all.

What problems do proshippers have?:

- sometimes 4chan assholes co-opt the label "proshipper" just because they're lolicons, even though there's good evidence to suggest that they would do or even have done criminal sexual acts in real life, or that they possess actual csam (child sexual abuse material, a term being used in favor of "cp" these days as porn implies consent). Proshipping has nothing to do with the harmful idea that you should be allowed to exploit and abuse real children.

- there are still many gray areas which proshippers themselves don't agree on. For example: I've seen a bunch of arguments about if writing fanfiction of live action shows or movies changes the equation. The general consensus of proshippers is that writing fanfiction of a character played by a child actor is definitely a more delicate situation and should not be sexual as it's inextricably tied to the image of a real child, but there are others who believe differently.

- I'm genuinely struggling to come up with more of these. Um, sometimes lolicons are really shitty people, like in point 1. This isn't SUPER relevant though cause in reality the overlap between predominantly queer or female proshippers and Reddit incels who just wanna jerk off to a petite anime girl is pretty small, though I'm sure it exists somewhere .

Now, what problems do antis have? (Fair warning, this is gonna sound even more "biased" but I hope my logic is still sound from the outside :p):

- I don't have any statistics on this (haven't exactly been many research papers on fandom drama), so you're going to have to trust me when I say that antis are absolutely NOTORIOUS for extreme harassment campaigns. The first time I was exposed to the word "antishipper", it was attached to a story of a former animator committing suicide because antis had gotten them fired by "exposing" their porn alt on Twitter and they could no longer afford medication for their disability. So, hell of an intro!

- their opinions are, in pretty basic ways, not backed by science or even practical common sense. The human brain can distinguish between fiction and reality after around age four or five

and people certainly aren't trying to hand nsfw content to children that age so I think it's safe to say that the people who are reading these things won't be "confused" by them or whatever. Also, even just using your brain and talking to these people, you find out most of them project onto the YOUNGER character.

- they claim to support victims but often simply don't. I won't keep dragging threats into the spotlight because I know there are probably antis who aren't as violent, but it's honestly astonishing to me how often they jump straight to wishing death and terrible things on people, and this has included more than once telling a rape victim they hope they get assaulted again just because they're a proshipper. See, a lot of these "taboo" sexual fantasies like age gap and incest actually themselves stem from a traumatic experience, and any therapist will tell you that fiction is a much healthier way to explore intrusive thoughts and urges than more dangerous coping mechanisms like self harm or substance abuse. And when confronted with this, in my experience and many others', antis will simply ignore that fact or say that the therapist is some sort of evil enabler.

-the general cognitive dissonance of believing an incest fanfiction will make you "forget" that incest is bad vs being fine with horror movies and slashers speaks to a deeper and honestly kind of worrying anti-sex mindset. I'm not sure I'm qualified to tackle this particular topic, but I definitely agree that it's a thing; after all, I have no idea how else those two things could coexist.

Anyways, I'd like to close this off by saying not everyone is as crazy opinionated as I am, I'm just autistic and like talking lol. A lot of people who id as proshippers just have a sort of minding their own business, ship-and-let-ship mentality, and a lot of antis are unfortunately just teenagers who were told proshipper = evil pedophile groomer and thus they put "proship dni" in their bios just cause they don't know and don't really care what it means. It is undeniable that many antis are kids themselves, and that does worry me, because fandom drama (especially Twitter fandom drama) is dangerous and vitriolic and also they're putting extremely serious threats on their digital footprints at the tender age of 14! But whatever, I'm not their parents, that's just my worry. Sorry for rambling this long lol, I wouldn't blame you if you dropped out halfway through but this is basically my summary of this whole thing. Do with this knowledge what you will! Or, you know, don't! I'm not a cop!

[teenandbeyond]

I've noticed your predator/alien franchise doesn't have anything for xenomorph. Let's change that lol. Could I get something that has a similar storyline like the one that says dark reader on it the one where the reader is obsessed with aliens.. It's made me curious tbh

Xenomorph x Dark. Reader

Mx. Anonymous, you read my mind! I was wondering when someone would request this! And you don't need to apologize, since it's fanfiction, we're just gonna say eff reality for a moment (even though the whole thing is fictional...but you get it).

Want more from me, my Infinites (I'm trying out a follower name thing lol. I'll probably shuffle through random ass names until one works)? 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

👽Discoveries👽 (Aliens)

Warning(s): Dark Fic (dunno if it came out as dark as I wanted), Non-con details, unprotected, triggering(?), size difference, I don't know where I went with this (this is what happens when I write parts at different times, I guess)

Sometimes experimentation leads to temptation...

✨✨✨✨✨✨

"You're crazy, [Last Name]!"

You tapped the end of your pen against your lip in thought before smiling, "Maybe, but crazy gets better results than normal. Ask any of the greatest geniuses, they'll tell you."

You were labeled as the crazy scientist because you suggested cross breeding. Between Xenomorph—or Aliens, the term used for common folk—and humans.

'It's impossible!'

'It's wrong! Don't you have any morals?' they cried.

'You want to talk to me about morals? Ha! Who are the ones who take creatures as they please and experiment to their heart's content, past what's necessary, simply for nosiness and fear of not knowing everything?'

You always shut them up any time they felt a need to comment on you.

"Sometimes the most impossible things can be made possible," you muttered as you scribbled something in your many notebooks dedicated to this theory.

You could admit you were pretty obsessed with Xenomorphs, you found them fascinating. You studied them with a passion.

You wanted one...and the opportunity came when a group of scientists arrived with a captured Xenomorph.

They were studying it to come up with a defense against them, you, among a few other scientists decided to spectate.

And all hell broke loose.

Turns out, someone from the group had gotten infected. You had to figure that out when a man's stomach burst open.

There was panic as the other scientists fell victim, until the newest creature was contained.

The two aliens were to be stored away since the team leading the experiment was now dead, until someone else decided to take it over.

That was your opening.

You took the fully grown one to your private lab, where everything was already set up.

The huge cylinder it was in was a little heavy, but you made it work. You pushed a button that would release an anesthetic-type liquid into the fluid the creature was summered in.

Once it was confirmed to be unconscious, you released it and properly restrained it, tail and all. You loved risks, but not when the result could stop your experimenting from proceeding...you can't test things if you're dead.

"Now...let's get your vitals connected to my database..." you tapped away at your screen until the patches and machinery you'd connected to it did their job, "There you are...and you are a very healthy Xenomorph."

You went through a few experiments of merging DNA samples, but something was missing. You couldn't figure out what it was.

You were disturbed from your deep thoughts by a pathetic escape attempt behind you.

"Oh, you're awake. I should introduce myself," you approached the alien carefully, "I'm your caretaker. And you're all mine for the time being."

It continued to struggle, hissing at you as you calmly took off your lab coat and put on gloves.

"Now, for a physical examination..."

Your hand slowly trailed down the alien's head and jaw, raising a brow as its struggle turned hesitant.

You heard a rumbling sound from its throat, the mouth covering muffling it.

"So...you aren't completely adverse to touch, hm?"

Then you explored its shoulders and arms, you trailed lower to its sides.

"Everything seems to be in order so far...You really are a beautiful specimen..." you sighed in fascination.

You were mesmerized and edging towards getting aroused.

And the alien could smell it, it was reacting.

Visibly reacting.

You smirked, "Oh...well, look at that. I've made the discovery of a lifetime."

So much research had been done, but never have sexual organs been found on an alien. But you supposed it wasn't common for someone to show arousal in their presence.

"Standing at attention just for me...What should I do with you?"

You were absolutely breathless.

But who could blame you, you were stretched to your limits. And there were still quite a few inches of it that didn't fit inside.

There was some defiance at the beginning, but this alien would just be the next being to know you always got what you wanted in the end.

And the hotter you got and the louder you got, ashamed defiance turned into lustful acceptance.

You balanced on your hands best you could, your feet also supporting you, but they were beginning to become less reliant the more they curled.

Its skin felt cool and smooth, a stark contrast to your heat and muscle. It made you shiver in the best ways as you slowly slid up and down.

"I think I might—keep you."

You were becoming more obsessed by the minute, perhaps your rationality was being manipulated by the smell of sex and sweat.

Or maybe because the alien tried and failed to keep itself quiet, sensitive to your every move.

A cute little virgin it was.

All yours to use as you've wanted. You could possibly get a sample once you were done, see if it gave different results.

Everything was in your control, until it wasn't.

The alien decided it'd had enough of your slow pace.

It thrusted up in quick strokes, making your body move so quickly it looked like it was shaking.

With a groan, your nails dug into its arms, then you gasp as it breaks out of its restraints.

For a moment, you think it'll attack, and it does.

It flips you under and bullies itself back into you, forcing in every inch.

A brutal attack that leaves you trying to catch your breath.

With a growl behind its mask, it pummels into you.

With fascination, you feel the bulge it creates and swear you can see it, but you're a little disoriented right now.

Your vision flashes from the pleasure and pain, your body is tingling.

"You—You're my discovery to keep," you grin.

[katboykirby]

As someone with autism, Satan with an autistic MC would be so wholesome and perfect...

Satan who makes sure a MC always has a jacket and a spare pair of plastic gloves handy to help them with their sensory issues.

Satan who takes over some of autistic MC’s chores, cleaning the dirty dishes and dealing with leftovers so that MC doesn’t freak out when they have to touch it.

Satan who never leaves MC’s side at large gatherings lest they get overstimulated and run off again. The last time that happened it took everyone so long to find them. Luckily, MC was alright. They were tucked away in a small room in the castle to hide.

Satan who is perfectly alright with sitting silently in your room while the two of you work on your own things. Maayyybeee he wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to scoot closer to him.

DOESN’T LET DIFFERENT FOODS TOUCH ON YOUR PLATE!! WILL START A RIOT IF HE FINDS THAT ANYONE HAS LET FOODS TOUCH ON YOUR PLATE!!

…ahem

Satan who doesn’t find MC’s tendency to disappear without a trace frustrating. He knows they like to go ‘exploring’ alone, wandering off for a short while before returning to his side per usual. Maybe when you grow close enough you’ll take him on a little journey.

Satan who admires you and your love for certain things. No matter how trivial they may seem, he knows that those are the things that make up the world for you. He’ll gladly listen to you talk about your interests for hours.

Satan who takes your relationship as slow as you may need. Sexual intimacy doesn’t equal love to him. He’s okay with you touching him and not the other way around if that’s what you feel comfortable with.

Satan who seems to be the only one who understands MC’s reluctance to physical touch. He avoids touching MC whenever possible. He shows his affection for MC in other ways.

Taking them to a quiet cat café.

Taking them to a new pop up event for their favorite anime.

Hell, he even downloaded Mononoke Land so that when they went on walks together he could catch spirits alongside them. (He’s their only added friend on the game so he makes sure to send them gifts daily.)

When MC shyly hugs him for the first time he thinks he might combust on the spot— it’s such a special occasion for him!

You think you’re a burden and nuisance because you’re so different, yet to Satan, that’s what makes you so perfect. It’s what makes him love you so much.

(p.s,,, if it wouldn’t bother you I could be 💚anon or bitchass autistic anon! I don’t know if you label your anons or not. :) )

((also don’t feel pressured to respond or look at this ask! I just thought you might like it.))

This is so, so lovely and I really enjoyed reading all of your thoughts. And nobody has asked to be a tagged Anon before! Of course you can be 💚 Anon!

I feel like I don't have very much to say in response, because you've already put everything into words so wonderfully. I'm not autistic myself, but I know that there's some overlap with ADHD (my own diagnosis) when it comes to certain habits or behaviours, and I do some of the things that you've described so I feel like I can relate to a certain extent.

I do think that all of the OM boys would be supportive of an autistic partner (or any of the personal struggles that their partner might have, be they mental or physical) but I do also believe that Satan would be one of the best at intuitively knowing exactly what his partner wants and needs without having to ask for anything to be explained or spelled out for him.

Whether you HC Satan as autistic or not, he does have a lot of his own habits and behaviours that are somewhat similar, and he's good at figuring things out on his own even from very small or subtle hints.

If he sees you carefully separating the different foods on your plate (something many of his brothers would be too loud or rowdy during mealtimes to notice right away) he would make sure to keep your food clearly separated the next time it was his turn to make dinner, and would make sure to separate your food every time in the future as well.

If he notices the way you gently (or not-so-gently) pull away from physical contact, he will always be sure to refrain from touching you without your explicit permission; something that his other brothers (like Mammon, Asmo, or Beel, for example) might take longer to figure out, since they're just so used to hugging you or putting an arm around you without even thinking about it. Satan isn't the biggest fan of all the touchy-feely stuff either (we often see him yelling at his brothers not to touch him in the games) so he knows how you feel, and he doesn't want to intrude on your personal space.

He loves that you always listen to him whenever he has something to say, especially when he starts gushing at length about the current book he's reading or about the cat he saw on his way from from RAD that day. Nobody else really bothers to pay him any attention when he starts rambling like that - Levi is really the only one who can relate, but Levi also has trouble keeping himself from interrupting and going into his own long spiels. And Satan loves listening to you when you tell him all about your own hyperfixations in turn. It doesn't matter what you're rambling about, Satan is hanging on to every word.

Satan is a very meticulous person who would take his time to deeply and carefully consider all of the best ways he could support you and make you feel comfortable, without making you feel patronised or condescend to. He'd never want to make you feel like a child he was taking care of, because you are both perfectly equal in his eyes. He knows what it feels like to be seen as less than, thanks to many years of hinself only ever being seen as his rage. He never wants you to feel like just a diagnosis or just a disability. Like his Wrath, your autism is a part of you, but it is not all of you. It is not your entire identity or all that you are.

He loves you so, so much ♡