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mrs-weasley-reid · 8 months ago

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TRICKY BLUNDER

Spencer Reid x exbau!reader ↳ part 1 here

Synopsis: Mistakes always reveal what the heart really craves. And Spencer wasn't an exception as he desperately makes things right with you. Word Count: almost 4k WARNING: a sprinkle of angst and a cup of fluff. a few curse words. A/N: had two drafts, but this made the most sense in my head. not my gif ctto :)

You gave Spencer a curt nod, "Hey."

Spencer's chest tinged at the sight of your smile. The kind of smile that gave him the impression that you two were absolutely fine and back to normal.

Hotch invited you to assist on the case that's been keeping the entire BAU team stressed out for the past three days. He thought you'd be a great help in increasing the team's morale and, of course, on the case.

Spencer took your arrival as a good sign. It has only been a month since you left the BAU. Maybe you'd change your mind and come back to the team. Besides, you wouldn't have joined them if you were still mad at him, right?

He thought he was getting ahead of himself. He knew he was getting ahead of himself. Taking the tiniest detail of your simple nod and civil smile into a desperate hope.

Your last exchange has been eating Spencer alive. The fallout repeatedly played out inside his head over and over in hopes that he could change the ending. He couldn't. Even an average person knew that they could never change what's been done.

You, on the other hand, did not dwell on your interaction with Spencer. In fact, as soon as you gave him some sort of acknowledgment, you immediately jumped in on a conversation with Emily. You were only being polite. It was in your nature.

If you were given the chance to boast, you would've said Hotch was almost begging you to help with the case. But you kept the idea to yourself and arrived with fresh sets of eyes. After all, the case specifically needed your specialty: human trafficking and victimology.

And fresh sets of eyes, you did bring.

While the others were occupied giving you a warm welcome, an arm suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, taking everyone by surprise, Spencer the most.

"I barely found parking," A man said to you in almost a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear and gawk about.

Your eyebrows narrowed, "You're an FBI agent. How hard could it be to show your badge and get a spot?" You queried, forgetting about an entire team right in front of you.

The man grinned, "I wanted to prove I could find a spot without my toy." He spoke with you with such ease, as if you've known each other for years.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. If you only weren't in public, you would've smacked your forehead from the utter disbelief you felt. That's when you remembered that it wasn't just the two of you.

"Oh, shoot! I mean…" You gestured at the man next to you, "Guys, meet Agent Ezekiel." You went on to briefly explain that you offered Hotch another pair of hands to help with the case, thus the agent's appearance.

Although you were clear about Ezekiel's purpose, everyone couldn't help but take note of his arm around you. The only man they saw wrap their arm around your shoulders was Emily during an undercover operation, where she pretended to be a guy.

Spencer was not a fan.

"And Zeke, meet the behavioral analysis unit. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Jareau, Prentiss, Morgan, and… Dr. Reid." You introduced them accordingly, paying attention to each one of the agents.

"Mr. Genius! Nice to finally meet you! I've heard so much about you." Ezekiel exclaimed, stretching a hand out to Spencer.

Spencer stared at the hand in front of him, "Clearly not enough." He lifted his hands out of his back pockets only to transfer them to the front pockets. "And it's Dr. Reid."

He couldn't help but shift his focus between you and the obnoxious arm on your shoulders. He wasn't exactly certain why he was feeling that way. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that he didn't get the chance to speak with you.

Ezekiel looked at his hand and retracted it with a shrug. He leaned against you, "You said he was fun." His face was of pure confusion.

You lightly shoved his face away from you, removing his arm on your shoulders in the process. "I promise, he's more helpful than he looks." You had the mistake of looking at Spencer as you spoke with a playful smile, immediately diverting your gaze to anyone else but him.

The reflexive habit was still present. You always had a knack for aiming for Spencer's approval of your humor. After years of trying to make him laugh in spite of feeling depressed about Maeve, adjusting your humor to align with his became second nature.

Spencer found himself smiling a bit at the millisecond of attention you gave him. He missed it. He missed you.

If the universe was giving him a sign, you standing in front of him was one big slap of a sign. This was his chance to make things right with you.

He'd do anything to make it up to you.

His first attempt was to join any conversation you had with anyone on the team. He tried. He really tried to get your attention, but somehow, before he could even breathe a word out, Ezekiel pops out of nowhere and takes up all your attention.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" You groaned yet stood up from your seat. Spencer wished you didn't.

Ezekiel ruffled your hair, "Less complaining, more doing. You lost the bet, remember?" He laughed, leaning against his seat.

Derek swore he saw Spencer's eye twitch inside out after seeing Ezekiel ruffle your hair.

You stomped out of the conference room, mumbling, "Stupid bet," under your throat.

"You would've beaten Morgan up if he asked you the same thing."

You jumped out of shock, spilling a bit of the hot water on the counter. Spencer followed you out, standing awkwardly next to you. You silently wiped the water off the counter and quickly stirred the cup.

With one last tap of the spoon on the edge of the cup, you turned to Spencer, "Just be glad it wasn't you." You deadpanned, walking away without giving him the chance to say a word.

First attempt: failed.

You clearly weren't in the mood to speak with him, especially when you hadn't gotten your usual coffee. You hated precinct coffee to the bone. Thus, you tortured yourself from lack of caffeine and exhaustion.

This sparked Spencer's second attempt to gain your friendship back: offer you coffee. Your coffee order has been in the back of his mind for the past month. It turns out he liked your odd coffee concoction after finding himself with two cups of coffee every morning the first two weeks you were gone.

The first two days were purely out of habit. The rest were out of the delusion that you'd be sitting on your old desk when he gets in the office.

So, he could only imagine the dejection when you arrived the next morning with an unfamiliar coffee order and bright laughter as you told Ezekiel how his coffee order had changed your life for the better.

Spencer constantly expressed his disapproval. Of course, you weren't happy about it. What was worse was you didn't know why. And worse than that, he couldn't figure out why.

Or so he thought.

As soon as he found an opening, Spencer pulled you into the side. He brought the two of you into an empty interrogation room.

"What are you doing?" You snatched your arm from his grip. You weren't stupid. You noticed Spencer's fixation for your attention. You did your best to be civil, but he was making it very difficult for you.

"You've barely been in the ViCAP unit, and you're already smitten with your superior. I think it's safe to say it does not look good on you. You don't even know whether he's a decent guy." Spencer gulped. He knew exactly how stupid he sounded.

You blinked loudly and chuckled, "So?"

Spencer straightened his back and averted his eyes away from yours, "So… I suggest you…" He trailed off. He didn't plan this far. He should've planned farther than this. It wasn't exactly very clever of him, and your glare made him dumb.

"Suggest me what?" You crossed your arms on your chest. When Spencer didn't speak for fifteen seconds, you continued, "You have no right to tell me what looks good for me. Or anything about me. You made that pretty clear, Reid. Stick with it."

You purposely bumped into his shoulder on your way out, leaving him dumbfounded and dry-mouthed.

His chest felt tight as if a hand was clenching it into the tiniest crumple of paper. He closed his eyes in agony as he whispered, "Damn it," running his fingers through his hair.

With the 187 IQ he's been bragging about, he couldn't imagine his own disappointment when he failed to realize his feelings for you.

You have been nothing but kind to him. When he was grieving, you were the only one he wanted to confide in. You were the only one who could make him smile. The only one who could make him laugh with an average humor. The one that made painful things less miserable.

And without him knowing, he fell for your kind smiles and warm company.

He became addicted to you.

Spencer did his best to avoid it, but he couldn't help himself. How could someone not fall for someone amazing like you? Clearly not him.

Your friendship felt more important to him, though. It always was. It was too important that he spent his time finding a fix for his infatuation. Shoving his growing feelings for you as if it were a crime.

But you just couldn't let him not fall for you. You didn't even try. You were just you, and he was just one of your willing victims. It was inevitable.

The deeper he fell for you, the more he wanted not to.

He was a weakling, a stupid coward, and irrevocably in love with you.

So, was he disappointed that you fell for the genius prodigy? Or was he disappointed that he never realized how deep he'd fallen for you until you left?

The next day was Spencer's worst nightmare.

You were at gunpoint.

Close and yet so far.

"Come any closer, and I'll shoot her!" The unsub shouted, holding you by the neck with his arm wrapped around it.

Spencer felt his hands clammy. You were too close to the unsub for him to find an opening. Backup was still a few minutes away. He didn't know what to do.

He took a deep breath, "No one needs to get hurt. Just let her go, and we can talk this out." He kept his gun pointed at the unsub.

He made sure you knew that. He never wanted you to think that he'd ever point a gun at you, even if you weren't already.

The unsub's grip tightened around your neck, and you could barely manage to let out a gasp. Tears began to spill from your eyes as air dissipated from your lungs. Your consciousness was hanging by a thread.

"Shut the hell up!" The unsub shifted the tip of his gun towards Spencer. He glanced at you and at Spencer's pleading face. He laughed, "If you let me go, I'll make sure someone rich buys her. You don't have to worry. I'll make sure they treat her well."

"Don't!" You choked, "Don't listen to him, Spence!" You were stammering, almost unable to form words.

Hearing you call him by his first name for the first time in a while gave Spencer a concussion. A string of déjà vu coursed through his body. Spencer was more terrified than he already was. He couldn't lose you again. He couldn't go through it again.

You could see it in his eyes. You knew that look from miles away. You've seen the same look etched in the deepest vault in your mind. The only thing was, you never imagined that you'd ever be the reason for it.

And just as you always have… you chose him.

You focused on his brown eyes. You took a deep breath and met Spencer's gaze, "Take the blunder."

His eyes widened. He felt his heart quicken. Spencer vigorously shook his head, tightening his grip on his gun.

After spending time together in his gloomy apartment, you and Spencer found enjoyment in playing chess. A few phrases stuck to heart, inside jokes that filled both of you with mindless giggles.

What used to be a funny term turned into something Spencer feared the most at that moment.

You were asking him to shoot you.

"No! I won't do that!" Spencer shouted, shaking his head to the point of dizziness. There must be another way. He needed to find another way to save you.

"What the fuck are you two talking about?!" The unsub pointed the gun back at your temple. This time, he made sure you felt the cold metal on your skin.

Both you and Spencer knew that the unsub was too far gone to be reasonable. Your plan was the only plan that'd work. He had to shoot you and let the bullet through to hit the unsub down. Of course, it wasn't a perfect one.

But it'd save many lives and his, and you were content with that idea alone. Except Spencer wasn't.

You closed your eyes, "Spencer, do it!" You begged, suffocating. "Take the fucking blunder! Now!"

Spencer didn't notice his watery eyes, fixing his vision solely on you. His hands were shaking. His body was ice cold. He could hear you and your fading breath. He aimed his gun at your shoulder, steadying his stance.

A bright flash and two loud strikes prompted you and the unsub to fall to the floor.

Hotch came into view across Spencer, pointing his gun to where the unsub used to chokehold you.

Spencer flew to your side, taking you in his arms as sobs spilled out of his lips. "No, no, no, no. Not again, no. Please, no." He brushed the hair off your face, holding your cheek.

A chuckle curved the ends of your lips, "You're a horrible shot." Your eyes were still closed as you felt a small sting on your shoulder grow as it bled out.

His breath hitched. Spencer chuckled a cry as he pulled you into a hug. It was so tight and yet gentle enough to let you catch your breath. "I thought I was going to lose you," He whispered. You never thought Spencer would ever hug you tighter than he already was. "I didn't— I don't want to lose you."

Soon, Spencer had to let you go as the paramedics came to your aid. They dragged you out where everyone waited in anticipation.

Ezekiel was the first to run to you, "You alright?" He replaced Spencer's spot on your side.

"I'll live," you shrugged, regretting it immediately as you felt a painful shock travel from your shoulder. You cursed under your breath.

"Stop moving, dumbass." Ezekiel scolded, turning to the paramedics and asking them if there was any way he could help.

Spencer felt empty at the sight. His heart shattered at the sight of someone else taking care of you. But compared to Ezekiel, he had no chance. And it broke Spencer even more.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try to befriend you.

So he chose friendship. He always did, after all.

He visited you the next morning, the first one to arrive as soon as visiting hours began.

"Hey," Spencer flashed a thin smile.

You placed the book you were reading down on your lap, returning his smile, "Hey."

This time, Spencer knew you weren't just being polite. It made his heart swell from relief. He still had a chance to make things right.

He walked inside the room, placing a small bouquet of white daisies on the bedside table. Spencer pointed at your book, "I have a book just like that." He started, attempting to make casual conversation.

"It's actually yours," You flipped the pages, revealing thousands of annotations. You only knew one person who did that. "It was my favorite. I couldn't let it go…" You gently wiped the cover.

George Orwell's 1984 novel was the first book Spencer ever lent you. As you packed your stuff from your old desk, you couldn't help but pick up one book to keep.

Spencer looked around, "Where's Agent Ezekiel?" He wondered out loud. Maybe too loud. The name rolled off his tongue with subtle disgust. He felt conflicted about the guy's absence from your side but was also relieved that he got to have you to himself.

"He's talking to my aunt," You replied nonchalantly, refraining yourself from shrugging.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Your aunt? Don't you mean your mom?"

You shook your head, looking at him oddly. "Last I heard, Zeke's my cousin, not my brother."

Spencer's eyebrows lifted over his forehead, "Ah, right. Yeah, that'd be weird…" He gave his best to sound casual while he internally screamed in his head. If only he could do a somersault without breaking every bone in his body and looking stupid, he would.

"Imagine the horror," You scoffed, bringing the book up to continue reading.

He watched you silently for a moment. He never knew why he thought a friend was all he was ever going to see you as. It must be the stupidest idea he's ever had.

Spencer bit his lower lip, his hands clenched on the side of your bed, "I—" He bit his tongue, unsure how to continue or how to start.

You turned to him with raised eyebrows, "Hmm? D'you say something?" You closed the book, giving him all the attention he has been dying to get for the past week.

"I—uh…" He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I know it's way too late to say this, but," Spencer wet his lips and met your gaze, "I'm sorry for being a jerk and—"

"It's okay, Spence," You smiled, cutting him off. "I did throw my feelings at you out of nowhere, so I kind of understand—"

Spencer cut you off, "Still doesn't it make it right for me to be an asshole. It's not like you—"

You shook your head, "But I was being unreasonable. I had no right to stop you from—"

It was like a game. Both of you kept cutting each other off like an indecisive scale.

Spencer couldn't take it anymore and grabbed your face, giving you a quick, soft kiss on your lips. "Just shut up for a second…" His breath fanned on your face, "Please…" He rested his forehead on yours and began to speak as soon as he felt you nod. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I'm sorry for reacting like a coward. And I'm sorry for being stupid." He spoke in a rush as if he knew you'd talk over him as soon as you had the chance to.

"I'm sorry I said I was disappointed in you. I made a blunder…" You laughed at his joke. "I thought if I turned you down, I'd never have to worry about losing you. I was obviously wrong." He playfully rolled his eyes, only widening your grin. "I was falling for you, and I chickened out—"

You felt giddy. You couldn't stop the grin on your face. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his lips. You did your best to listen to his sweet words, but damn were you easily distracted by him.

Apologies after apologies, sweet words after sappy sentiments. You grew too impatient. He was talking too much.

"Spencer, just say you love me and kiss me," You interjected, pulling his shirt to get him closer.

He laughed softly. A sound that made your heart skip a beat. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, tilting your head higher.

"I love you… I'm in love with you."

Spencer felt so good to finally admit it: to you and to himself. He pulled you in once more and kissed you again, longer this time.

He couldn't get enough of it, enough of you. He only pulled away when a nurse came in to check on you, blushing like a red beet.

Not a second after, his phone rang. The team was looking for him and wondering where he was, emphasizing the fact that they were to fly in forty minutes.

Spencer went back into the room, low-spirited. He didn't want to leave you just yet. You had barely forgiven him, and he barely knocked some sense into his stubborn head. He wanted to stay and make up for the month he'd missed.

But duty calls, so he sat silently as the jet took off the runway, fiddling with the loose string on his cuff. A snapping sound pulled him out of his trance.

"Reid," Derek called out as he sat on the left seat across Spencer. "How'd it go?" Derek queried.

"How'd what go?" Spencer's eyebrows raised. What could Derek possibly mean?

Derek looked at him as if Spencer was crazy, "You said you'd go to the hospital to get your migraine checked out. Is everything alright?"

JJ heard their conversation, turning on her seat, "Didn't you get checked out last week? Is it getting worse?" She worriedly asked, joining the discussion.

Spencer's ears turned pink as he quickly glanced at JJ, "Y-yeah... I mean, no. I'm fine." He stuttered, clearing his throat.

Emily squinted at the boy genius' stutter. She wasn't as smart as him, but she knew him well enough to know when he was lying. "Which hospital did you go to?" She raised her eyebrows.

"The... one on..." Spencer wasn't prepared to take the hot seat. His mind was still clouded by the thought of you. It was like he was under the influence, unable to get his head straight.

"The one where she's staying?" Emily prompted.

"Yeah, the one where she's staying—wait who?" Spencer was taken aback.

Emily grinned, catching a glimpse of a purple hue on Spencer's skin hiding behind his collar. "I think he's fine," She told JJ and Derek. He looked at Spencer, "You're fine, right?"

Spencer hesitantly nodded his head.

Derek's eyebrows knitted, "What are you on about?" He turned to Emily, who was sitting next to him.

"When you're stressed out, what do you usually do?" Emily raised her hand before letting Derek answer, "With Savannah." She smirked.

"Damn, Prentiss. I didn't know you were that curious about my sex life." Derek replied sarcastically.

"No," Emily smacked her forehead. She decided not to explain herself any further. She looked at the genius across him, "So, how is she?" When Spencer gave her a confused look, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Stop acting like you didn't just make out with her."

Spencer looked down and giggled silently. Busted. It was your fault, really. Before he left, you made sure to turn his frown upside down and did it so well that his mind was malfunctioning from the memory of your lips, leaving marks on his chest.

"She's fine. The doctor said she'd be able to fly home in a few days." Spencer replied giddily.

Emily smirked, "Yeah, I bet she's fine, alright." She pointed at Spencer's tie, enough hint for Derek and JJ to catch up in the conversation.

"My man," Derek's grinned.

JJ's eyes widened, and her mouth was slightly agape. "So, are you two made up?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah... just a tricky blunder."

reid masterlist | masterlist

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #ssa spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #criminal minds #spencer reid angst

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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Within You

Pairing: Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky shows a different side of himself when you venture into a corn maze. Word Count: Over 3.2k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, DUBCON, unprotected vaginal sex, semi-public, breeding kink, spooky vibes, established relationship, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Welcome to Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Special thanks to @ghotifishreads who suggested soft!dark Bucky with a breeding kink and @tumblin-theworldaway for listening to me (s)cream about this. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @vonalyn , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was your first Autumn with Bucky. The two of you had been dating for less than a year, but you were completely enamored with him. Not only was he doting and smart, but he was a man who made your heart flutter in your chest whenever he looked your way. Even thinking about him sets your heart ablaze. He was the one for you.

“Come on,” you smiled as you took his hand and pulled him toward the pumpkin patch entrance.

The two of you took turns regarding date nights and outings. Today, you chose a pumpkin patch. You told him it wouldn’t feel like Fall if you didn’t go and listed off the fun things to do. There was a hayride, pumpkins and apples to pick, a corn maze, and much more. He obliged since he knew it would make you happy. He even gave you a small smile when you told him the website claimed that the maze was tricky, but you knew he’d find his way out easily.

You stopped and inhaled the cool air, the scent of warm apple cider drifting your way from the stand nearby. The temperature dropped just enough that you were comfortable in a sweater and the sun peeked out through the clouds to greet you. It wasn't overly crowded and it was the perfect weather. Even better because you had the perfect man by your side.

It was going to be a good day.

“Where should we start?” You asked, smiling when a small group of kids headed toward one of the tractors. “Hayride? Pick a pumpkin to carve later?”

“Where do you want to start?” Bucky replied, a small breeze blowing some of his dark brown hair back.

Your answer died in your throat as you gazed at him. His hair was the third thing you noticed about him, long enough that it almost touched his shoulders and soft to the touch. You loved running your fingers through it, whether it was to soothe him and pull it when he was between your thighs. The second thing you took notice of was the massive size of your now boyfriend. Over 6’4” with broad shoulders, a puffed out chest, and thighs made for riding, he intimated most while he excited you.

His cool blue eyes, of course, were the first thing. Gazing into them was like swimming in a private sea, ready to ride a gentle wave or get swept away in a storm depending on his mood. You could handle the entire range of emotions because you were his girl. It was that simple.

“You’re staring, doll,” he smiled, your cheeks warm at being caught. If any other guy called you "doll", it would've sounded silly. It was endearing coming from him.

“Well, I can't help it. You’re gorgeous,” you said.

“You are gorgeous,” he argued, the compliment sending more heat to your cheeks.

“You said that this morning,” you teased. The two of you moved in together recently and you had a hard time getting out of bed some days. Waking up beside him was like a dream, but it was your reality.

“And I'll say it again,” he smiled before a girl stopped in front of the two of you with a tray.

“Hi,” she greeted with an ear-to-ear smile. “Would either of you care for a sample of cider? We have warm and chilled.”

“Ooh,” you smiled, glancing between the cups. You loved apple cider. “I'll take warm, please.”

“Same. Thanks,” Bucky said, selecting cups for each of you. He blew on his before he drank it, a weird look crossing his face as he swallowed. “Is something on the bottom of my cup?”

“Nothing on mine,” you said, glancing at his cup once you tried your cider. “I think it's a sticker. Is it a cauldron?”

“Oh! You got the lucky, special sample!” the girl grinned as you and Bucky shared a confused look. She balanced the tray in one hand as she handed your boyfriend an orange coupon and took the empty cups from you. “Free cider for two. Enjoy!”

“Thanks,” Bucky said before she went to give samples to others.

“Lucky guy,” you smiled, raising an eyebrow as he slowly licked his lips. “You okay?”

He blinked and nodded. ��Yeah. Was just warmer than I expected.”

“You didn't burn your tongue, did you?”

“No, but you should massage your tongue with mine anyway,” he half joked.

You smiled and nodded toward the maze. “Why don’t we check that out first?”

“So, you’d rather check out a maze instead of soothing your boyfriend's tongue?”

You giggled as you made your way to the start, grabbing a small sheet of paper. There were different sets of “animal tracks” to find throughout the maze. Anyone who found them all got a prize. “Why check out a maze when I can check you out?” You asked, unable to keep a straight face. “That was cheesy.”

“It wasn’t cheesy,” he said before his smile widened. “It was corny.”

“Oh, my god,” you laughed more. One thing about your boyfriend, he could always bring a smile to your face. “You think you’re so…”

A little boy ran out of the maze with a smile before he lost his footing and pitched forward, his sheet of paper floating to the ground as it flew from his hand. You rushed over to help when he began to cry, carefully helping the poor child sit up. “Ouch,” he sniffled.

“Hey. You okay?” you gently asked, making sure to keep your demeanor calm as you brushed some of the dirt away. You also grabbed his sheet before it could blow away. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

He wiped his face and pointed to his knee once he rolled up his pant leg. “Right here.”

“Okay. Let’s take a look,” you nodded as Bucky joined you, crouching down on the other side of the boy. He looked worried, too. Minus the small scrape, he looked fine overall. “Poor little guy. Scrapes are no fun. But you know what? You’re a strong little boy.”

“I am?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yeah. Very strong,” Bucky agreed. "My girl wouldn't lie to you."

It was sweet how he spoke of you. “And you found all the animals, so you get a prize,” you smiled, showing him his paper where all of them were shaded. “You’re strong and smart,” you added, which brought a smile to his face, too.

“Timmy!” a woman shouted as she jogged out to the maze. “I told you not to run off. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he replied, taking your hand so you could get him to his feet. “Hurts, but I’m strong and smart.”

Timmy’s mom bent down to inspect his knee herself before she gave you a relieved smile. “Thank you for helping him. How can I repay you?”

“That's not necessary. We're glad we could help,” you said, making sure he had his sheet. “You enjoy your prize and listen to your mom, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded, waving as he went with his mom. “Thanks!”

“Cute little guy,” you smiled as Bucky slowly stood up. Your boyfriend had a few expressions that you were used to seeing, but you couldn’t read the current look he gave you. It was as if he was seeing you in a different light. “What?”

“Why haven't I knocked you up yet?"

You opened your mouth to say something, a feverish and unexpected heat moving through your body. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard what I said,” he said, his piercing gaze rooting you to the spot. “Just wondering why I haven't."

Though you knew Bucky was the man for you, the topic of kids hadn’t come up much. Partially because you hadn’t been together a year yet. Wouldn’t it be too soon to have a little one running around when you weren’t even engaged? Not that the two of you had to get married to have kids.

Maybe him seeing me comfort Timmy brought it to the front of his mind.

“I don’t know, Bucky. Why haven’t you knocked me up yet?” you teased. You almost shrank under his gaze a moment later when he didn’t laugh or crack a smile.

“Maybe I should. We can go home and get started right now,” he said. There was no hint of a joke in his tone. “This would be a fun place to bring our kids one day. Don't you think?"

“Why don’t we talk about it after the maze?”

He looked hurt for a split second and you almost assured you weren’t blowing him off. You wouldn't do that. It was merely a serious talk for another time. “Sure. After the maze,” he agreed, taking your hand as you made your way back over.

A chill ran down your spine when you walked through the entrance. It was strange. You weren’t afraid, especially since it wasn’t dark outside. So where did the unexpected chill come from?

“You okay?” Bucky asked, his voice a little rougher than usual as his grip tightened on your hand. Did he feel weird being in here, too? “I didn't freak you out, did I?”

“I'm fine and you didn't freak me out. You know you can tell me anything,” you replied, shaking it off the chill as the two of you began to walk through. The maze took up almost a third of the entire place, the stalks high enough that neither of you could see over them. “I think we should find the werewolf tracks first. Because they're one of your favorite animals.”

Before you could turn right down one of the paths, he brought his mouth close to your face. “That and I wouldn’t mind sinking my teeth in and leaving my mark on you.”

The breath rushed out of your lungs when you turned your head and caught the darkness in his eyes. His pupils were larger than normal as he stepped closer, almost backing you into the corn. “Is that right?”

“And you’ll let me,” he said, your heart racing as he leaned in. His kisses stole the breath from your lungs and your eyes slipped shut just before his lips touched yours. “Won’t you?”

“After we find the first set of tracks,” you whispered, pressing your hands to his chest so he’d back away.

He didn’t budge.

“Seriously, doll. Why haven’t I knocked you up yet?”

This again?

“I thought we were going to talk about that after we got out of here,” you reminded him, stepping to the side to go further down the path. “Where is this coming from anyway?”

“Been thinking about it for some time. I just haven’t said so,” he answered as he followed close behind. Was he afraid to say something before because it was too soon? That admitting it would scare you off? “Now that I'm talking about it, I can't stop.”

You were tempted to make a joke that there was something in his special cider sample making him talk. “You're serious about this?”

“You moved in with me. We love each other. I want a life with you. Of course, I'm serious.”

Glancing over your shoulder to find him watching you, you couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, too, Bucky,” you promised before you focused on the path again. You weren’t sure just how far the two of you had walked through. “But something like that is-”

You shrieked when Bucky spun you around by the shoulder, a wild look in his eyes before his mouth met yours in a persistent kiss. Compelling desire moved through you, but it didn’t matter how much you wanted him. The two of you were still in public. There were families around.

This wasn’t the time or place for this.

He broke the kiss before he shoved you almost painfully to your knees. He was never that forceful. “I’ll lose my mind if I’m not inside you.”

“Bucky, what the hell?!” you asked as he moved behind you and dropped to his knees, too. He yanked your pants and underwear down before you could stop him. Did you want to stop him? “We’re in a maze. What if someone catches us?”

He scoffed as he pushed you forward, forcing you to brace yourself with your hands. The cool breeze touched your exposed pussy, sending another chill down your spine. “You think I care if anyone catches us? I need you and they can’t stop me. They'll see that you're mine.”

The corn seemed to move in closer as you heard him unbuckle his belt, as if to give you some privacy. It had to be your mind playing tricks on you. “I'm already yours. Can you just slow down for a second?”

“I’m sorry, doll,” he swore, clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Bucky sheathed you in one hard thrust, your cry smothered by his hand. You admitted to him once that he was the largest you’d ever had, which he both loved and hated. While it made him feel good that your ex-boyfriends weren’t as big as him, could never stretch you the way he could, he hated thinking of anyone else being inside you. He liked to remind you that no one else ever would be. And because of his size, he usually took great care in prepping you.

His need must’ve clouded him, the burn from the stretch more intense than usual.

“I’m sorry, doll. I don't know what's come over me. I can’t help myself,” he apologized again as if he sensed your discomfort, your cunt gripping his cock like a vice as you breathed through your nose. “But it’s okay. I’ll make you feel good. Just take me.”

You whined as he nearly pulled out completely and shoved himself back in as deep as he could go. That was your only warning before he set a steady pace, your hands fisting the dirt and your ears ringing as blood surged through your veins. It wasn’t long before your wetness coated his cock, the burn fading to pleasure from the friction. He fucked you before, but it was nothing like this. Bucky was like a man possessed. No, not even a man. More like a wild animal rutting into you, claiming you.

Where anyone could stumble along and find you.

“So soft. So warm,” he groaned, leaving sloppy kisses along your neck. “So fucking good.”

You tried to push yourself higher on your hands and knees for better support, but the force of his thrusts surged you forward. Removing his hand from your mouth, he placed it on the back of your neck as your cheek hit the dirt. The hold gave him leverage to fuck you deeper with your ass in the air. The soil felt cool in contrast to the hot palm against your skin.

“Better keep quiet,” he warned you, even as the angle sparked ecstasy within you. All you could do was bite your lip to try and keep the sounds in as much as possible. “Or do you want someone to catch me breeding you?”

“What?” you gasped, unable to lift your head as a new sensation hit you.

“You heard me,” he growled, draping himself over your back and maintaining his harsh pace as he breathed against your ear. “Gonna breed you. Gonna fucking drown your womb with my seed. ‘Cause you’re mine. All. Fucking. Mine.”

The sweet doting boyfriend you were used to was nowhere to be found as his cock wrecked your cunt. Was there something unexplainable causing him to act this way or had he been holding back? You would question him later. For now, you could only go limp as he fucked you into the dirt with vigor. And it felt good. You couldn't deny it.

“Gonna be so full of me. Fuck, you’ll look so beautiful carrying my baby,” he grunted, barely able to make out his words his thrusts increased in speed and strength. The slap of skin on skin filled the air and you almost had to cover your mouth yourself to stop your mewls. “Your belly round. Your tits nice and full. Might keep you knocked up so you remember who you belong to.”

The image of Bucky with his hand on your belly filled your mind, sending jolts of unexpected pleasure down to your toes. “I can’t take it, Bucky,” you gasped, even as you felt the tug of your building climax ready to snap. “It’s too much.”

With a deceptively soft kiss to your neck, followed by a small nuzzle, Bucky let out a deep moan. “You can take it. You always do ‘cause you’re mine. My good girl,” he rambled on as you whined, the wet slide of your pussy squeezing him tighter as you got closer. “Need to pump you full. Need your cunt to milk every drop from me. You want it. I know it. Come.”

You couldn’t hold on any longer, your fingers curling in the dirt again as you came with a cry. You were overwhelmed by the pure bliss, shocked at just how powerful your orgasm was. He hadn’t teased your clit, yet you gushed around him like he had. The squelching sound blended in with your whimpers as he fucked you through it.

Maybe you liked the idea of him breeding you more than you realized.

“That’s it, doll,” he groaned as he chased his release. “Take it. Every. Fucking. Drop.”

Bucky's rhythm faltered as his cock pulsed, spilling inside you with a growl. He kept his hips flush against yours as he breathed raggedly against your neck, keeping your bodies joined together for as long as he could. He didn’t move until he began to soften, making a whimper spill from your lips when he pulled out of you. His fingers quickly replaced his cock to keep his spend from sliding out of you.

“You okay, doll?” he asked, his voice still a touch of gruff mixed with softness. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

“Mmm,” was the only response you could give him.

It was like a switch had gone off as he helped you up, keeping you from collapsing as he got your underwear and pants up. He wiped as much of the dirt away with his hands as he could, softness in his eyes once again. Minus his disheveled hair, he looked fine. Like he hadn't just fucked you in the corn maze.

You two were lucky you hadn't gotten caught.

He hugged you as close as he could while you tried to make sense of his behavior. Whatever raging beast was inside him was satisfied for the time being. But what came over him?

Large hands framed your face as you tried to get your shaking under control. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” you mumbled.

“I’ll draw us a bath when we get home, okay? Get you cleaned up and make sure you aren't too sore,” he offered with a tender kiss to your lips. “After I throw out your birth control pills. You won’t need those anymore.”

So, how are we feeling? What do we think? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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iamnmbr3 · 2 months ago

Note

What's you take on the whole wand situation?

It never ceases to amaze me how well Draco's wand worked for Harry when he had trouble with Hermione's wand and they've known each other for years.

Not only did the wand work, he also defeated Voldemort with each I find so funny for some reason.

And we need to remember that his wand was made of unicorn hair, which makes it extremely loyal to its owner so how the heck did it work well enough to defeat one of the greatest wizards of all time?

J.K.R can claim that Harry disarmed Draco all she wants, I call bullshit. To me it feels they share a deep connection which is why it worked

I KNOW!! It is insane that JKR, Queen of the Anti-Drarry Squad, wrote this in canon. So fitting that she should be cursed to accidentally canonize queer ships she hates lol.

The bit about Hermione's wand is super interesting for several reasons. Harry never wins the wand from her, but because they are very close and compatible and because she loves Harry and wants the wand to work for him, it does. Not perfectly. But way better than the Blackthorn Wand, which he didn't win AND which came from a stranger who had no compatibility with him and felt no allegiance or emotional connection to him. So we see that the compatibility of the wand's owner with someone and, crucially, the emotional bond they have with you, also influences how their wand responds to you.

This has huge implications when it comes to Draco's wand. Draco's wand is made of unicorn hair, which, as you correctly point out is known for its loyalty and affinity for its original master. This is not a fickle wandcore that is easy to just win in a quick duel. Not only that, but hawthorn wands are particularly tricky to master.

Plus, if wands could switch allegiance too easily then it would've come up earlier. If just disarming someone is usually enough to do it then any class where such things are practiced would have huge repercussions. Not to mentions fights between enemies. It would be a huge problem for Death Eaters or Aurors. Snape would've lost mastery pf his wand to the Marauders pretty early on in his school career. (Harry also would've lost mastery of HIS wand to Snape in the end of book 6.) This would make wizards extremely cautious about dueling each other. Thus, the character and desires of the wizards and of the wands and the specific circumstances must play a much bigger role. Some wands must be more loyal than others too. For example I can imagine the Elder Wand being relatively fickle. Or the kind of wand that would choose Peter for example. But a unicorn hair wand?

Furthermore, Harry doesn't even really fight Draco. He pulls the wand right out of Draco's hand. And Draco...lets him. He has fast reflexes. He's a Seeker who is nearly equal to Harry in ability. And we see how quick he is at spells and how well he holds his own against Harry during their duel in book 6. Yes Harry - who is a deadly dueler - beats him in the end, but they go several rounds. Draco, in fact, holds his own against Harry for longer than anyone except for Snape. Much longer than Voldemort ever does for example. So if Draco had wanted to get off a spell to blast Harry away from him when Harry was totally unarmed and literally just trying to pull the wand out of his hand - he could have. But he doesn't. He lets Harry take the wand.

And the wand's loyalty transfers seamlessly to Harry. Not only does it work for him. It works PERFECTLY. It feels "friendly" in his hand. In a way even Hermione's didn't. He is deeply compatible with the wand and the wand obviously is actively friendly to him. This clearly reflects Harry's fundamental core compatibility with Draco (they're soulmates your honor!) and also Draco's true loyalty and affection towards Harry.

The Hawthorn Wand isn't betraying its former master. It's honoring his wishes by protecting the man he loves.

#asks #drarry #drarry in canon #hpdm #dmhp #harco #drarry meta #my meta #meta #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #wandlore

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emepe · 2 months ago

Text

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: The first 48 hours are crucial when a person goes missing. Eren can only pray it’s enough to reach you..

— Content warnings: emetophobia, mention of assault.

— Notes: Helloooo!!! Welcome to TV Friday number 12 <3 I thought about posting earlier but I thought best to keep up our little tradition ^^ Please read the notes at the end for extra notes about TV’s future. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

Forty-eight hours

Hour One

A missed call shouldn't have been enough to raise an alarm, but his gut instantly told him something was wrong. And yet he tried his best to remain calm — stepped out onto the street and made his way to the bus stop where you should've been dropped off, glancing into convenience stores just in case, hopeful that the bus was just running a little late. But when the bus you would've taken showed up — allowing Eren some time to sigh in relief and shake his head at his own presumptions — and you were nowhere to be found among the few people to scatter onto the sidewalk, it only confirmed that previous gut feeling.

Hour Two

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

There's a stiffness to Eren's breathing that makes the process more painful than its intended effects — his lungs feel too big for his ribs, which seem to be pressing them against his heart, pushing his brain into hyperactivity to keep him from imploding.

Where does he even start? Where should he even go?

If there's a proper protocol to follow to find you, he's no idea of it and he's strangely aware that his anxiety might lead him in the wrong direction when there's so much he has to do — so many places he has to be — at once. It's infuriatingly difficult to not have a cool head when you really need it.

He didn't think to bring his car — perhaps it's for the best, considering his vision continues to blur and it's not a sign of good condition to hear your own frantic heartbeat pounding in your ears.

His eyes anxiously scan the faces of every person in his path. Paired with his dazed footing and the sick expression on his face revived every couple of minutes from the nausea stemming from some sort of sensed doom that he continuously swats away, there hasn't been a shortage of odd looks and aversions since he ventured into the dark streets in hopes to find you fine and well out of thin air.

It's been too long to dismiss as a casualty since his calls stopped going through, and yet he insists on redialing your number each time he's met with the automated message that only further fuels his dreadful symptoms, hopeful that your voice will reach his ears again, for that comforting sound to put an end to the infernal crescendo of his insides.

Just as he's about to redial once more, his phone starts buzzing first, and for a split second his body is at peace and his heart soothed in the spare moment that it takes for him to accept the call and bring the phone to his ear.

“Have you heard from her yet?”

The voice on the other end causes his stomach to plummet to his feet for what feels like the tenth time tonight.

It takes a moment for his brain to assimilate that it's not you on the other end and another for him to hate himself for not checking who was calling and stupidly spit a response to an Armin who has no fault in anything, especially for not being you.

Armin, as understanding as ever and assuming the more collected role for Eren's sake, dismisses the frustrated tone in his friend's voice, fully aware it's nothing personal.

“The security guard says she left a little over an hour ago and Mika called me a minute ago and said she hasn't been home. Are you sure she wasn't going to make any stops on the way?”

“No, Armin, she would've told me. She would've come here first or she would've at least texted me.” Eren's voice cracks. “Something is wrong.”

The weakness in Eren's voice is enough to fracture Armin's composure for a fraction of a second.

“Let's go to Levi.”

Hour Three

Being in the police station feels more reassuring than Eren would've imagined. At least this means he's doing something — and something right, at that — and the drive over spared him enough time to ease his nerves, even just a little, as he continued to repeat inwardly to himself that everything is going to be fine.

Time is everything and frankly, he can't help but feel a bit dumb for not thinking about getting some help from Levi in the first place. He'll find out what's going on — if there was an accident, if you got mugged and that's why no calls go through, or even if your bus broke down and that's why he hasn't seen you when he should have by now. Even if it turns out to be a misunderstanding, better to cause a scene than to sit on his hands. Though three hours without any sign to say otherwise can't be a misunderstanding.

Eren hunches over, resting his forehead on the edge of Levi's desk, not minding one bit as it digs a dent into his skin. His knee bounces every couple of minutes as he and Armin wait for Levi to get back to them.

“Eren Jaeger?”

He looks up to find a tall blond man instead of Levi.

“Yes?”

“I'm Captain Erwin Smith. Come this way please.”

Eren stands to follow the man's lead, only sparing a nervous glance to Armin, who replies with a comforting one from his seat, only morphing into a more accurate depiction of his worry once Eren turns his back to him.

“Where's Levi?”

Eren's eyes wander the barren space he's been led into. Nothing but a table and a pair of chairs set opposite of each other.

“He'll be here in a moment. I just want to ask you some more questions about the missing person's report you're filing.”

“Of course.”

Doing his best to hold in his exasperation at the ticking clock in his head, he dutifully replies to every question he's already answered for Levi when he first walked into the station — what made him come to the station, his relation to you, your description, what happened before he lost contact with you, amongst other basic things to paint a picture of the situation.

“Was there ever any trouble in your relationship?” Erwin asks.

Eren's brow furrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm asking if there was any indication that your girlfriend,” he makes a vague motion with his hands as he reads your name from the folder in his hands, ��might’ve been upset with the relationship. Did you ever argue or have any trouble? Perhaps something in the past few days? Or ever?”

Eren hardens his jaw in an attempt to remain calm. He knew he'd have to spend a while at the station, answering questions more than once — as frustrating as the lengthy process could be, he expected that much.

Erwin's tone has remained neutral for the entirety of the questioning, and it's only natural to want to rule out any immediate suspects, but it doesn't make the implication of the captain's words any less offensive and borderline cruel.

“No,” Eren chokes out, horrified by the mere idea that either of you would walk away without warning. That isn't you.

“So no reason for her to break off contact with you.”

“She didn't break off contact,” Eren spits, growing heavily frustrated at the sudden turn of events. “We were supposed to meet, she was on her way already. I saw her just this morning and she called me first to tell me she was coming home.”

“Maybe she only said that to throw you off?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Just tell me what you might think,” Erwin replies, voice stern. “You say it's only been three hours since you last heard from her but she's a mentally stable, healthy adult. Unless she has any conditions that could put herself or others in danger, chances are she's safe and sound somewhere and this is all a misunderstanding. Was there anything suspicious or weird about her?”

Eren's shake of his head grows more and more frustrated as Erwin does little to conceal his skepticism, which only shapes as a misunderstanding from Eren's increasingly impatient point of view.

“What's suspicious and weird is that she never made it to our date at all and it's been three hours and I haven't gotten a single word from her.”

Eren's expression is one of pleading, yet Erwin's remains neutral and made of marble.

“And it's not like that,” Eren murmurs. “I was going to ask her to live with me tonight. She called me after she left work to tell me she was on her way.” Eren can feel his heartbeat start to pick up as his ribcage begins to close in on his lungs once more as more anxious words continue to spill from his mouth in increasing pace and volume. “She told me she had news and that she loves me. Why would she tell me that if anything was wrong? Why would she say that if she wasn't going to make it to our date?” The crack in his voice comes at the same time as the stinging sensation behind his eyes and the uncomfortable tickle in his nose. “I was making dinner for us. I had this whole thing planned. I wanted to surprise her with all her favorite food and the pictures from the new apartment. I wasn't going to tell her about the pink bathtub because I want it to be a surprise when we move in. She…” He curls against the table, hands gripping his hair in frustration, pulling at the strands to make sure he still feels something because there are just too many sensations overwhelming him as he tries to get through to the man in front of him. “She really wants a pink bathtub.”

Eren doesn't lift his gaze, just remains quiet and unmoving until he catches a flicker of movement in front of him. It's only when he takes the tissue offered by Erwin that he becomes aware of the tears streaming down his face.

Levi nearly had a heart attack when he first caught eye of Eren's and Armin's familiar faces walking into the police station. The frantic green eyes and anxious expressions made it clear something awful had happened and hot flashes of searing dread burned inside his stomach. That is until nobody pronounced his niece's name. After that, the flame of pain withered to ashes of guilt, consuming him from the inside in such a manner that it was hard to face his niece's friends knowing he'd felt relief it wasn't his family who'd been affected tonight.

Levi's known Eren since he was a kid — a bit childish and whiny, but ultimately a decent man with a kind heart. It's been a pleasure watching him grow up and knowing he's remained a good friend to his niece.

Levi's only met you once. It was at Jean and Mikasa's engagement party earlier this year. If Jean and Mikasa were the happiest couple there, you and Eren were a close second. It was easy to know just how much he adored you, and how attached you were to him. Eren was rarely in a dark place, but next to you his smile was blinding.

After finding out Erwin conducted the interrogation to rule out a possible runaway case — and how he did it — he still hadn't ridden himself of enough guilt to apologize for making the situation more stressful, no matter what the rules say.

It's no secret some sudden disappearances hold more danger than others. An abducted child, an older person with dementia, a mentally and emotionally unstable person who's looking to cause harm to others or themselves — they demand a higher sense of urgency than logging the missing person into the system and following up when there's nothing more pressing on the police's plate.

The desperation consuming Eren's features when Levi finally walks into the interrogation room is enough to kick off his own instincts.

It's upon Levi's insistence that patrols are dispatched immediately.

Hour Five

When a loved one's safety is on the line, any efforts from authorities never seem to be enough and yet one remains oddly hopeful that the people with a proper protocol should know how to better handle situations that leave one frantic and lost.

Calls to the nearest hospitals, pings from cellphone towers, two patrols dispatched to the last known location and its surroundings, questions to potential witnesses who have nothing to report or are rather too invested to go back to whatever keeps their attention inside to provide some detailed tips, one patrol leaving because of a nearby break-in and the remaining one left with nothing more to go off of than one grainy clip of CCTV footage that shows your figure walking down the street, and a second clip from a convenience store's outside surveillance camera where you don't show up at all, but the lack of witnesses lead to nothing in between.

Keeping up the search when there's been nothing gained starts proving to be more difficult when obstacles continue to pile on. Aside from the growing boredom of those in police cars from the lack of fresh information to keep them motivated, the heavy clouds that hover over everyone's head threatens for the case to soon be abandoned for the night.

Hour Eight

Levi is hesitant to leave. But with no leads — no CCTV footage, no unknown numbers blinking on Eren's screen, no mother, an estranged father, no sign of a struggle at the last known location, and so much yet so little more — there isn't much he has to do than drive back with the pair of worried men to the station for more questioning in case of foul play, while constantly eyeing his notifications for any incoming messages on an assault victim found in an alley not too far away from where your phone was last still on.

Eren refuses to leave. Despite Levi's efforts to persuade him that going back to the station was necessary, knowing he was so close to where you'd last been was enough for Eren to stand his ground. Getting into Levi's car means going back miles worth of steps. It means straying from what feels so much like the right path already. And as ridiculous and futile as it is with no leads, it means losing his grip on something much more solid.

How easy it would be if a last known location means he can find you just by looking behind a tree or having someone point and say “yes, she's right there”.

So when Levi makes another plea for Eren to come back with him — he doesn't mention what for to not stir any more nerves — and Eren says no while steering himself down the block for what feels like his hundredth recon of the area — just in case you really were behind that tree in the small playground all along, playing a nasty prank on him — Levi chooses to go back to all the nearby twenty-four hour convenience stores one last time before the downpour begins.

Armin gives Levi a grateful nod before lightly jogging to catch up with Eren, who's already turning onto the next street.

“You can go,” Eren calls over his shoulder after catching a glimpse of his friend's blond hair beside him. “I'll keep looking by myself. Besides, it's gonna rain soon. You'll get wet.”

“What about you?” Armin looks down at his friend's bare arms. “You don't even have a jacket.”

Eren looks down at his sides, like he just noticed his lack of a coat. He could've sworn he had one on him when he walked out his apartment. You would've been upset with him otherwise, that small pout forming on your lips while your brows are weighed down with disappointment.

The instant of amusement he feels is quickly consumed by the ache of why he's out on the street with no jacket to begin with.

The food must be cold by now. He'll have to heat it all up once you're back home.

Light raindrops brush against his skin with a small gust of wind.

You're still not behind the tree.

It's nearly half past two in the morning. Any civilians with useful information have been asleep for hours, and any passers-by would've reported anything had they seen it, Armin thinks.

It's chilling to walk down streets so quiet and empty, with the only reminder that this isn't an alternate universe being the sparse cars that drive by. Surely the people inside might find it strange to see the pair walking up and down the streets, turning, looking, flashing their phones to make out shapes in the dark.

The tickle of rain on skin is no longer, but the temperature continues to drop.

Armin takes on one side of the street while Eren tackles the other. He receives a polite nod from the security guard of a small daycare center, who fails to conceal his look of pity. Levi interviewed him around an hour ago, so he has to know what's going on.

Armin averts his gaze, his cheeks burning at the thought of some stranger pitying him and his friend when everything is going to be just fine.

The rain starts up again. Eren isn't around anymore. With one quick scan of the street, Armin spots him rounding the corner to the next street — pace firm but anxious. He's quick to follow.

By the time Armin catches up, the raindrops have grown in size, a reliable sign that this time, it's for real.

“Eren,” Armin calls him carefully.

Eren continues walking, flashing a light behind a dumpster in a narrow alley between a family restaurant and a bookstore.

“Eren,” Armin calls him a bit more firmly to get his attention, but to no avail.

With brows knit more in desperation than concern, Armin quickens his pace and pulls Eren by the shoulder just before he rounds the corner to the next street.

“Eren!”

“What?”

The anger and volume in Eren's voice shrinks Armin in his place for a brief moment.

Embarrassed by his own reaction, Eren exhales an apology. But his face hardens once more when Armin suggests it's time to go home.

Armin steps back, surprised to have caught a swear word from his best friend among the words he spits back in a negative response.

But when Eren turns, ready to resume his search, Armin pulls at him again.

“Eren, stop!” he half-yells, quickly readjusting his volume before speaking again to not cause any disturbances to sleeping strangers.

“You don't want to pick a fight with me Armin, I'm warning you,” Eren's voice grows low, but still reaches Armin with the same anger and menace.

Eren harshly pulls away and continues to storm down the next street, leaving Armin to stumble behind.

The rain is heavy enough now to spot the pavement faster than it takes for each drop to dry.

“We need to go back, we aren't going to find her like this,” Armin calls after him. His hands do little to shield himself from the rain. Thankfully, Armin thought to bring a jacket along but it won't do much for either of them when it's bound to be sopping wet in just a few minutes.

Eren's shirt is already clinging to his skin in large patches down his back, and yet he continues walking with purpose down the street.

Armin's shivering now under his jacket as he looks around to gather his surroundings. This street isn't far from the office. It's poorly lit which, paired with the rain, is best explored in daylight. There's a single street lamp that's meant to illuminate the area at night, but it's been broken for months and either nobody has reported it, or laziness has kept it from being repaired.

“Come on,” Armin insists, lightly jogging now and losing his breath under the cold shower as he tries to keep up with Eren, who still refuses to listen. “We'll come back in the morning! You need to get some rest if you're going to keep looking! I'll come with you, okay? But we need to go!”

Armin suddenly crashes into Eren's chest as the latter abruptly turns around in a sudden fit of pure rage.

“I already told you I'm not fucking leaving!”

Armin stumbles back, teeth chattering, muscles drooping from his wet clothes and vision blurred by the heavy rain.

“You can leave if you want to! That's what the fucking police is doing! Just go already! But I'm staying because I care! I don't give a fuck about the rain, I'm going to find her!”

Eren's words pierce through Armin's chest, and the next moment he's tackling Eren to the ground. It's not so much to stop him from leaving this time, but out of indignation.

Eren falls on his ass with a wet thud, his palms painfully pounding onto the pavement as Armin falls on top of him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in his hands.

“You think I don't care? Why do you think I'm here, you idiot?” Armin yells in Eren's face. Had the pouring rain not been a factor, he would've been red in the face. But had the rain not been there, Eren also would've easily seen the tears streaming down Armin's face, and that would've taken away from his blue glare.

“She's my best friend! I'm just as worried about her as you are! You can't decide you're the only one affected by this! That only makes you a jerk and you're not!”

Eren is tense all over as he holds Armin's surprisingly threatening glare. His chest heaves as a twinge of guilt surges inside of him at his friend's pointed remarks. The stiff breathing makes its return.

“But we have to go,” Armin's voice softens — it cracks and begs.

And Eren breaks down in sobs. His scraped palms come to his face, aggressively digging the heels against his eyes as if to force his tears back in while his shoulders tremble in cold, grief and guilt.

“You don't understand!” he cries, his shirt still crumpled under Armin's grip. “I fucked up, Armin. This is all my fault!”

Unsure of how to react to this abrupt change in attitude, Armin remains frozen save for his teeth, which continue to chatter under the deafening rain.

“I was supposed to pick her up. I'm never late,” Eren hiccups. “But I didn't come today and now I don't know where she is! It was me, Armin! I did this! This is my fault!”

“Eren,” Armin murmurs gently, eyebrows upturned in sympathy as he finally softens his hold on his friend.

“I can't find her and I don't know if she's hurt or scared or if…,” Eren's words drown in another wave of sore sobs, his lips refusing to let the thought of the worst to escape as a spoken word — to think that someone might have caused you harm and that's what's kept you tonight.

“I need her to be okay,” he whimpers finally, lips trembling as his body begins to react to the harsh cold surrounding him. “Where is she, Armin?”

It takes a while for Armin to gather his thoughts and catch up to the workings of Eren's mind from this hellish night.

He often leaves the office with you, stays behind some evenings when he notices you're close to wrapping up your work and can ride the elevator together. Sometimes even accepts Eren's offer for a ride when he's too tired to deal with the overwhelming setting of public transportation — tired enough to not mind third-wheeling for a short while. If the last place your phone was turned on was before you even had a chance to take a bus, surely he could've done something to prevent this mess too. Why didn't he think to stay behind today, too?

“It's not your fault,” Armin finally says, his voice just barely audible amidst the rain and thunder. He blinks up from the ground to his friend. “And we don't know what happened. We'll try the hospitals again later, we'll keep calling her in the meantime. We have Levi helping us, right?”

Eren blinks back at him, slowly gathering that Armin is trying to encourage him through reassurances, and finally nods in response as he does his best to ignore the tight lump in his throat.

“It's like three in the morning, Eren. I'm not asking you to stop. But we can't keep going like this.” He motions vaguely toward the incessant rain from above and the wet clothes sticking to their skin.

Armin stands, relieving Eren from his weight as he pushes back his hair with one hand and offers the other to his friend whose reluctance casts a shadow over his usually bright features.

Eren trains his gaze on the ground, leaving Armin's helping hand hanging for the while longer it takes for him to convince himself that Armin is right and this doesn't mean he's failing you.

Finally, Eren accepts his friend's hand, who hoists him up just as they both spot Levi's car pulling into the street from the farthest corner.

Armin motions for Eren to follow him toward the car, to which he responds with a weak nod. But just a couple of steps in, something crunches and gets caught under his shoe. Naturally, he looks down, forgetting the deluge falling over him at the moment to frown at the foreign object.

Armin glances over his shoulder, sensing his absence, and turns around fully when he realizes Eren is kneeling on the ground, cautiously picking something from the ground that ultimately dangles from his fingers once it's fully suspended in the air.

Armin retraces his steps, kneeling next to his friend to find his face pallid, and green eyes wide with fear as he stares at the broken chain between his fingers, from which hangs an angel cast in silver with a broken wing.

His features contort in horrified realization. It's almost ridiculous to turn to Eren for confirmation of what he already knows and can already begin to imagine. But when he does, the latter is already hunched over in the opposite direction, emptying his stomach onto the wet pavement while the nearing lights from Levi's car come to blind him.

Hour Fifteen

Mikasa, Jean, and Sasha step into the elevator wordlessly, the only sounds on the way to Eren's floor being the inevitable rustles from the plastic bags with food in Mikasa's hands.

Jean offered to take them, but Mikasa insisted she'd hold onto them. Maybe it's because of her cold hands, but it might also be because she needs something to help keep her grounded — literally; she feels as though she might float away otherwise. Because if anyone were to ask her, nothing has felt real since last night after Armin's call.

The elevator’s hum ceases as it comes to a gentle stop and the doors slide open.

The same somber silence continues to hover between the trio as they mechanically walk down the hall to Eren's door. Jean takes out his copy of the key from his jeans pocket and pushes the door wide open, gesturing for the girls to enter first before quietly closing the door behind them.

Spare keys aren't rare between them. It was chain reaction that stemmed from Eren's father's passing. Everyone wanted to make sure he was okay. The rest is history.

“In case of emergency.”

“Can you please water my plants while I'm gone?”

“Can you check something for me?”

“I'm really sick, just let yourself in.”

“Just keep it.”

Jean's copy has rarely been used. In fact, not many of them have made use of Eren's key once he started dating. Not that it's been a dramatic change, but now there's not much need to be wary of barging in on something they'll all laugh about later. And today, after Eren passed out on the street in the rain, it seems crucial to brush the dust off an old habit for their friend's sake.

The trio is careful not to make any excess noise — Eren might still be sleeping —, but the further they venture into the apartment, they realize their efforts are in vain.

They expected Eren to be lying on the sofa where Jean and Armin had so carefully helped him settle down, still fast asleep considering it's only been a few hours since. Although Eren's sudden nausea was a mere reaction to finding the necklace, Armin still spent a couple more hours watching over him as a precaution while he cleaned up the kitchen and dining area, and quietly left for his apartment to make another round of calls before work.

They're met with the view of their friend bustling around his work area in a corner of the living room, his brow furrowed and eyes laser focused as he refills the ink tanks on his printer. Stacks of missing person's posters cover his desk with a handful of faded ones having been scattered and crumpled on the floor as evidence of the ink shortage he's tending to. Your face occupies nearly the entirety of his immediate view, which is why a single glance is enough to distract him from his task that he doesn't notice his friends present in his apartment, nor when the ink begins to leak.

At the instinctive curse word that leaves him in a frustrated huff, Jean rushes over to help him.

“I'll handle this,” he assures Eren, who only blinks in surprise as he realizes he's not alone.

Mikasa and Sasha walk over to him unsure of whether a hug is appropriate as a greeting. In the end, they choose to speak the words instead.

Sasha leaves the conversation in exchange for helping Jean clean up the spilled ink. An irregular blob-shaped stain is left behind on the ash gray wood.

“Are you– How's your stomach?” Mikasa asks.

An uneasy grimace makes its way onto Eren's face.

“It's fine. It was just… Yeah.” He shrugs it off, unsure of how to properly explain the incident without triggering more discomfort.

Mikasa nods in understanding.

“Armin said you're going back to the police station later.”

Eren huffs at a humorless puff of air from his nose.

“Yeah. More questioning,” Eren replies, his head continuously shaking in disbelief, to which Mikasa frowns.

“What's wrong?”

It takes Eren a couple of tries to let the words out, his mouth opening and closing with hesitancy.

“They all left, Mika,” he softly murmurs, a hint of helplessness infecting his fragile voice, that births an ache in Mikasa's chest. “Nobody could say anything and they got bored. What kind of excuse is that?”

Mikasa drops her gaze to her shoes, submitting before the hurt and impotence Eren's words awake in her.

Then she shakes her head briefly, recalling a good thing.

“Levi's on the case… and there's evidence for foul play now, there's a lead,” she says, trying her hardest to appear more hopeful at each thing on her list. “He'll find her, Eren. This'll just be nothing but a bad memory soon.”

She smiles, but it comes out sad from the red that tints her waterline.

Eren doesn't have the energy to try to appear cheerful from her encouragement, and limits himself to a nod.

“Eren, how long have you been up?” Sasha asks with concern from his desk, where her eyes scan over his computer screen and the stacks of paper with your face printed front and center.

“A few hours?” Eren replies with a shrug, to which everyone else exchanges concerned glances.

Jean breaks the silence with a loud clap, refusing to make way for any awkwardness in the air.

“We brought you some food, buddy. Come on, let's eat.”

Sasha eagerly nods, her enthusiasm a bit too stiff it almost seems rehearsed, as she encourages him to follow them to the dining table.

Eren allows himself to be tugged along for a couple of steps before he tethers himself to his spot for a moment and then decidedly takes a step back under everyone's puzzled expressions.

“I'm not really hungry,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” Mikasa gently asks.

“We got your favorite soup,” Jean smiles, though Eren is too busy staring at a blank point to notice. “Minestrone.”

“Extra parmesan,” Sasha adds.

“It's fine.” Eren assures them with a forced smile. “You guys eat. I have a lot of things to do.”

“Well, you can't do them on an empty stomach. Let's eat and then we'll go through your to-do list together,” Jean insists.

“Yeah,” Mikasa agrees, shooting a grateful smile to her fiancé. “Jean can drive you to the station after breakfast and Sasha and I can handle the rest.”

Every offer is sensible and comforting, but Eren still refuses. He can't eat, not when you still haven't come home.

“No…” his voice trembles ever so slightly as his eyes wander around the room, as if looking for an excuse. He ultimately makes his way back to his desk, where the stacks of posters await him. “I'll just head out now. I'm gonna hand some of these out before going to the station.”

The rejected trio exchange another round of anxious, meaningful looks. Mikasa's the first to break away from the group to join Eren in gathering a stack of flyers and a roll of tape from the black metal organizer on his desk.

As her hands roam around the surface of the ash gray wood, the jewel on her finger catches the sunlight peeking through the curtains.

Eren's movements grow slow as his focus is stolen by the silver engagement ring.

Mikasa notices the pause in his movements from the corner of her eye, and looks up at him to assess his status. Eren tears his gaze from her ring — embarrassed —, but not fast enough for it to go unnoticed, nor does he remember to ease his hardened jaw afterwards. He moves in silence and sets a fast pace toward the door, leaving an anguished Mikasa to trail at his heel.

Hour Twenty

It takes a handful of hours for Eren to get back home from the station, with a significant reduction to the baggage he left with. The stream of questions would've been fairly simple had he not been charged with so many uneasy feelings as to why he was doing all of it in the first place. It certainly didn't help that he had to face the same people who had simply left this morning. But he has to do things right — even if it means swallowing his anger to contribute with any useful information.

Social media presence, daily routines, bus routes, habits, friends, family situation.

Saying you know someone like the back of your hand is an odd saying, he thinks. He's not that vain to spend lengthy periods of time observing himself. In his case, it suffices to say he simply knows you — all he's done is look at you.

He knows your hands quite well. The shape of your fingers, the curves of your knuckles and the warmth of your palms when they latch onto his heartbeat and manipulate it to your will. And now what's been left since last night is a painful cavity. It's all wrong. Your hand should be here, filling his void.

The apartment is empty, Jean and Sasha long gone. The plastic bags have been folded into neat triangles and the counter has been cleared. Upon opening the fridge, Eren finds stacks of containers that have been added to those Armin helped put away the previous night from the uncelebrated dinner.

He stares at his packed fridge for a long time, any energy to step away vanishing into thin air and leaving him stuck in place, looking straight ahead until he no longer recognizes the shape of anything inside, and he grows numb at the cold air that slowly envelops him.

A ring from his pocket is what finally pulls him out of his daze and he's quick to whip the device out and accept the incoming call with pure urgency and no thought.

“I'm only assuming you've been too excited to call me to tell me how it went last night,” Carla's playfully accusing tone comes through the speaker.

“Mom,” Eren pronounces in a voice so soft, yet empty as he only acknowledges it's her, but any word that bounces off his tongue is devoid of meaning until he can speak the name he wants to.

“So,” Carla's enthusiastic grin is evident through the phone. “Was she thrilled? What did she say?”

Eren's voice fails him.

In all the anxiety and chaos, with all the things he's had to do within the last twenty hours, he completely forgot to tell his mother what had happened and that moment is catching up to him now.

His lips roll inwards, a habit reserved for when he's feeling shy because of things you say or do, and now has come back because of his lack of words — or rather the will to expel them.

His hand comes up to his hair, his fingers brushing his hair back as he struggles to find his voice.

It's only when Eren takes a second too long to reply that a shift in mood can be sensed from Carla's end of the line.

“Eren,” she calls him carefully, which only makes the lump in his throat grow. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“Mom,” is all Eren can muster, voice cracking as he pushes the word out.

“Did you have a fight? Is everything okay?” Carla's concern amplifies through the speaker, as something rustles in the background, a sign that she's taken on a more alert position.

“You didn't break up, did you?”

Out of all the things that could've gone wrong last night, Eren wishes that had been it. At least he wouldn't be as helpless. At least he'd know where you are. At least it's something he could reverse.

“No.”

The word comes out choked, his throat instantly sore for the second time.

His monosyllabic replies must be getting to her, because Carla takes a deep breath before trying again.

“Eren, honey. You have to speak clearly, okay?” Carla's voice grows gentle, as it always has whenever Eren would have trouble speaking his mind. Granted, that's been lost as he got older, but Carla's sweet attention hasn't. “What happened?”

Her patient voice finally manages to coax the lodged words from Eren's throat.

“I don't know where she is. She's missing.”

Hour Twenty-four

Rain is bad for detective work. Eren heard about it in a documentary or a podcast, or maybe he read it somewhere — he can't remember. But it supposedly washes away any evidence, making easy cases tricky and difficult cases nearly impossible. Considering the silver angel necklace was found in the midst of the sky falling, it comes as no surprise when he comes home from a casual meet up with Levi at a nearby coffee shop with the news that no DNA or signs of a struggle were found on site after a thorough search in the light of day. The other half of the broken angel wing was found stuck on the edge of a sewer grate, though. Eren would feel any comfort at all if it meant it would lead to something. But at least the necklace can be fixed for when he finds you and this is all over.

The necklace is pretty much a dead end, but it'll remain under the police's hold just in case.

Eren has never gone so long without seeing your face. Now that the clock has found its way back to the hour you were supposed to walk through his door, it's unbearable to know that you won't. And still he looks over in its direction every few minutes, expecting you to burst in and throw yourself into his embrace, marking the end to a day-long fever dream.

That's probably it. A dream. No, a nightmare. It's nothing but a wicked play of his subconscious — to teach him a lesson on appreciating you more. Maybe to scare him into doing a better job of protecting you. Maybe he's gotten too lax, too careless. After all, the city hasn't been terrorized by any violent crimes in the last few months. But that's no excuse to dismiss the possibility of danger. Right… There was a killer last year. Two murders. No suspects. No arrests. And there was a burglary just last night. So what if…

No.

Eren pulls at his hair, agitated by where his mind is leading him. He pulls hard on the strands, like they're the reins of his thoughts that he needs to redirect onto a less horrifying path.

His phone dings as if on cue with a text message.

I'll be there soon, honey. Get some rest, I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.

A tap on the attached file opens up a copy of a plane ticket for the day after tomorrow under the name Carla Jaeger.

His heart feels a tad lighter.

It'll help to have his mother around for a few days. He types his gratitude into his phone and presses send.

He lets his face fall into his hands as he hunches over his desk.

Everything will be okay, he repeats to himself in his head like a mantra.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Everything will be okay.

Outside, rain starts to fall.

Hour Thirty

The rain has been on and off for hours.

By the time Eren reconnected with his surroundings, ready to go out and look for clues on his own around the area, the rain was nearly as heavy as it was at three in the morning.

He sits by the living room window, watching the downpour. His phone is charging on a wooden stool next to him, taking a break from another round of calls to nearby hospitals to ask for any patients bearing your name. Still no.

His stomach has been growling for a while, but any energy he possesses isn't the kind that'll get him off his chair and into the kitchen — it's the kind that's meant to be used to stare out the window and grow numb over any trivial needs.

It's fine, he thinks. It'll pass.

Hour Thirty-seven

All five of his friends come through the door a little past seven in the morning, with bags of fresh meals to share.

Eren sits down this time, allowing Mikasa to fix him a plate and Connie to pour him a glass of juice.

Nobody mentions the dark circles under his eyes, and Eren's gaze is too lost on a blank point to sense the meaningful glances exchanged all around him.

There's not much room for conversation. Any sense of normalcy is lost in the thick air. It seems equally wrong to create a lighthearted break for the length of a meal as it is to talk about the empty seat across from Eren when everyone is trying so hard to make sure he's at the very least feeding himself.

Eren merely pokes and stirs at his food with his fork the entire time. There's a fresh stack of flyers on his desk that demand more urgency in his eyes than sitting down to eat.

His demeanor is easy to read by everyone at the table, yet another round of concerned glances and subtle nods in his direction being tossed around with silent messages.

In the end, nobody says a thing and the groups is broken off in pairs to tackle the surrounding neighborhoods.

Hour Forty-five

Nobody has called. Not him or the station. As the only person outside of the police to be contacted for any updates, his phone should've rung at least once. But aside from yesterday's encounter with Levi and his visits to the station to see if his presence alone will bring something up, there's been a drought in leads. And despite his determination in making sure every person he passes knows anything, there's still nothing.

It's been hours since his stomach has demanded his attention. It's finally reached the point where it's so empty, it's gone numb. His body is running on nothing more than sheer will and water.

He should at least try to eat, test if he can hold any food down.

The fridge remains packed with food, even more now thanks to what's been gathered from his morning visits.

Ever so slowly, with overly cautious movements, he takes out a container, transports it to the counter and peels off the lid. It's from the dinner you were supposed to share two nights ago.

His lips tremble, eyebrows upturning for the split second it takes him to grasp back at his composure. An outsider would think he's glaring at his leftovers, disgusted at whatever is inside, completely misunderstanding the mental ordeal he's traversing as he takes several deep breaths.

He pulls out a stool from the breakfast bar, sits down and stares.

Hour Forty-eight

It's been two whole days since Eren has stepped foot in his own bedroom.

His feet drag him toward the bed without stopping to flip the light switch. Though the night is cloudy, signaling another shower for tonight, the moonlight still finds its way into the room just enough for his eyes to take in the most basic shapes of his furniture.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, and his gaze zeroes in on the neatly folded white cotton fabric set on the corner. It's the shirt you slept in two nights ago, the one that's the wrong size because it's his and he likes his clothes to be just a bit baggy.

It's the shirt he gently tugged off your body to feel your skin pressed against his. The one that you take care in folding even if you're in a rush and even though he'll throw it in the wash anyway.

His fingers slowly reach out to collect the fabric.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

It still smells like you. Just barely — a mere scrap of notes that have faded over the last two days. A mix of vanilla, citrus and a faint trace of eucalyptus fabric softener.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Breathe, Eren.

It doesn't work. The air is too thick. It gets caught in his throat and forces a choked sob on its way back out.

His face contorts in anguish as he falls onto the bed, curled up in an attempt to make himself as small as humanly possible, with your shirt clutched in his hands as the world outside darkens and he simply weeps.

Previous chapter | Next chapter (tba)

Minors and ageless blogs who interact will be blocked

Notes: Tunnel Vision will continue, just not with the same schedule it had before my hiatus. I’ll be adding word count and progress updates in the chapter guide in case you want to keep up with the story in that way (It’ll also give you an estimate of when the next chapter will be posted. I have ideas for some ficlets, which I’ll do my best to post in between TV updates just so I don’t leave you all hanging with Eren content. It’ll depend a lot on whether I see any enthusiasm for it or not though (aka comments and reblogs that aren’t… well… empty). In the meantime, thank you for the support and feel free to slip into my ask box to chat :)

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necrotic-nephilim · 2 months ago

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any opinions on joker junior!tim/jason?

oh my GOD yes-

Joker Junior!Tim is one of my guilty pleasures. i'm *obsessed* with the concept, i think it's so horrifying in such an intriguing way. it's tricky to work into the main timeline, but that's sort of the fun of it, bc generally you have two routes: Joker Junior happened to Tim when he was Robin and he's since moved on and continued to be Robin then Red Robin. or it happened to him as Red Robin and is a current thing that the characters in the fic are dealing with. and both are good.

because there's endless potential of how to do it with JayTIm. does Jason save Tim, does Jason *know* in the first place, if it happens after Jason is back as Red Hood how does he react, etc. i've read it in fics and i love every version.

but i think i'm intrigued by the idea of Joker Junior happening before Jason comes back as Red Hood and he finds out about it and he's *pissed*. like infinitely more pissed than he would've been. but his anger isn't in protection of Tim, it's at Bruce for not learning, for letting this happen again. and for making a brainwashed child have to kill Joker because *again*, Bruce couldn't do it. the point isn't about if Joker is alive or dead. it's that *Bruce* didn't kill Joker and Jason's death didn't mean enough to Bruce to stop Joker before he did it again. because Joker Junior really is the proof Jason needs to shove in Bruce's face about child sidekicks and Robins and Joker. and since Jason didn't exist in the universe where Joker Junior happened, we never saw a real comparison of the two. but i think if they happened in the same universe, it makes what Joker does to Tim far more purposeful. because now he knows he can kill a Robin and *get away with it*. so he wants to push it. how do you top *killing Robin*? like, if that doesn't get to Batman *what does*? Joker Junior seems like the perfectly reasonable next progression. if a dead Robin doesn't break the Bat, then breaking Robin beyond recognition seems even bigger. and Joker trying to get Tim to kill Bruce as Joker Junior would likely be Joker just seeing if Bruce would let it happen. could Bruce bring himself to stop Tim? and of course Joker doesn't find out bc Tim kills him instead, but it's such a fun question.

and so, i think Jason would *know* his death in a way, caused this. Joker did that to Tim because he didn't get enough of a rise out of Bruce for killing Jason. if Bruce had *just* killed the Joker, none of this would've happened. another kid wouldn't be irrevocably fucked up.

as for Jason's opinions on Tim specifically, i think it's fun if Tim retires from vigilante work entirely after the incident. (with Steph taking over as Robin for a much longer and more significant period instead of just getting fridged) because Tim has very black and white morals so knowing he killed someone, even under the influence of Joker venom, he'd immediately put down the cape, suggest Steph to take up his mantle and quietly retire. he knows what he's capable of now, pushed to the edge and it scares him. i think it's fun if it scares him *because* he was lucid. if he was truly under the brainwashing control, he would've killed Bruce. but he didn't. he had a moment of clarity, and decided to kill the Joker. and he knows that was *him*, not Joker Junior. he made that decision and now, he lives with it.

which means Jason would be almost pissed off by Tim, at first. because they're reacting to their trauma *wildly* differently. Jason wants blood for blood, vengeance, war, and to make Gotham feel his wrath. but Tim just wants to. disappear. quietly vanish and live a quiet life, even refusing to run comms. Jason doesn't understand how TIm doesn't share the anger and passion Jason has for justice. he knows what Tim is capable of and so does Tim, so why doesn't Tim lean into it? why doesn't he take back control? bc this is letting the Joker win, to Jason. after all, Jason is the guy who took Joker's old name to prove a point. and now he's facing another person broken by Joker who just. is a normal guy. i'd love to write Jason forcibly dragging Tim back into the superhero life, trying to trigger the worst out of him and wanting to find kinship in Tim. because that's another part of it- this is someone else who might actually understand Jason's experiences and Jason just wants to not be alone. he wants someone else who gets what it feels like. so he makes Tim face the trauma Tim is running from and pushes and pushes until Tim snaps. i think it could be fun.

don't get me wrong, i love softer JJ!Tim in JayTim stuff just as much, where Jason is more protective and they bond and end up really close and taking care of each other because of it. but i'd love to lean into the fucked up nature of it. for Jason to want to rip Tim open and see just how much of the Joker is left inside of him. for Jason to be obsessed with the other Robin that Joker broke. for Jason to be even angrier at Bruce because of it all. there's endless potential and it will forever remain my guilty pleasure for JayTim.

#necrotic answerings #jaytim #joker junior #dead dove do not eat #i just think jj!tim is neat.#like i have endless upon endless ideas about it.#some are softer and some are feral #and i will eat up every fic for it #especially love that art i reblogged recently of jj!tim and arkham knight!jason #i don't know too much abuot arkham knight stuff #but i want to get into it bc it seems so intriguing and that art makes me feral.#i want tim to be whumped in any imaginable way.#fuck that boy up and break him until he doesn't know who he is anymore <3 #it's crunchy #seriously thank you anon for asking this is my fave thing ever.

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yugimoto · 4 months ago

Text

chilchuck cosplay rundown / tutorial! I say tutorial loosely cause I didn't take any progress photos...but hopefully some of this helps someone!

I received a couple messages on instagram about this cosplay so I thought it'd be easier to make a post about it! here's a little rundown for anybody who needs it...!

I only had a week to make this costume so there isn't a ton of actual sewing involved! (I got most of the materials in advance)

the main part's essentially just a big quilt - I used a faux suede fabric (which was a little stretchy, I really don't recommend this but it was the best colour match I could find with my time limit! I think it would've come out a lot smoother using something without stretch!) I used 2 ounce wadding/batting! the process is just measuring a bunch of rectangles, using stick and spray to glue the wadding between the two fabrics, and then sewing along all the lines. time consuming but it's not hard!

I cut the quilt I'd made into two rectangles, essentially you have two blankets - then I measured the neck and armholes based on a tank style dress I owned. if you're a little unsure about this you can make a mockup first before cutting the real thing! then I sewed the shoulders together, now it's just one long blanket with a head hole!

I ended up trimming the sides of the front half before the next bit to help it conform to my body a little better but I had to wear it backwards on the day for reasons I'll explain in a minute T__T

next I sew bias tape down the sides and around the neck hole, I folded the bottom ends and sewed them by hand to hide the stitches. you could probably just use bias around the whole thing but I was low on materials!

the buckles at the sides are literally just watch straps. the original listing I bought from's gone now but I'm pretty sure these are the exact same thing. I bought 16mm and trimmed the ends a little, I attached them using gorilla superglue!

the gloves are these gloves with the fingers cut off, any brown leather gauntlet style glove will do, and the scarf's one I found on vinted. it was a long scarf originally, I zigzag stitched down where I wanted it to end, cut it, then sewed the two ends together. the stitching's a little wonky but you can't really tell when it's folded over!

the belt's from amazon and the pouch is this one from aliexpress - I already had one of these for casual wear, it's a little foraging bag! it folds out into a bigger pouch!

I didn't take photos but the shirt's just one I found on vinted and the jeans are topshop joni jeans I'm pretty sure! the boots are just a pair I found secondhand and hot glued a strip of pleather to!

my wig is this one in chestnut brown, I always use coscraft for wigs they're my favourite! I trimmed it a little shorter and used thinning scissors over the whole wig!

last but not least is the ears. I almost didn't use these and I'm so glad I did! I felt so silly and cute wearing them! I used these ears, but searching "prosthetic big ears" should come up with others if you do a little digging! I don't have any experience with prosthetics aside from a pair of hobbit ears I wore a few years back for halloween but they're not too tricky to apply.

I trimmed the edges down a little and applied my foundation to them, powdered them to seal it and then added a little blush to the tips. I used ben nye prosthetic adhesive to glue them on! glue on my ears and onto the prosthetic ears, let it get tacky then just held them in place until they stuck.

be careful with the adhesive when you're applying it because my sibling accidentally spilled it down my costume... that's why I ended up wearing it backwards on the day...

I was worried I wouldn't be able to hear with them on but it's not too bad! cons are loud anyway and I'm autistic so the slight noise cancelling effect wasn't bad at all!

another piece of advice I'd give is to buy one of these style neck fans, you can buy them on amazon! I wore this during the day underneath my scarf and it helped a lot!

#cosplay #my cosplay #should I put this under the main tag...uaa...#dungeon meshi #be nice please!#long post

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tan1shere · 7 months ago

Note

oooh maybe a part 2 to film wife: where you get booked with someone else on the same day that miko wants you, and she gets upset that you went to the other job first, but then you finish that job and show up for her and she’s making out with someone else for the video and you get pissed. maybe some like confrontation/being cornered in a trailer type of thing 🤭 can end in smut obvi - 🥸

Film Wife pt 2

Young Miko x female reader !

A/n: oh my god I absolutely adore this !! Thank you anon I have the perfect idea ;) not the best but I still hope you enjoy

Warnings: SMUT OFC MDNI ! bit of a argument but it doesn't last long, strap usage, language ? Squirting

Pt 1 , pt 3

Masterlist

Appointments after appointments. You seemed to be really popular for music videos lately and well, you weren't exactly complaining. The pay was good. You were currently grabbing your bag as you were done for the day, when Stacy comes over to you. "Ok, a little pickle but- tomorrow this singer wants you to be in her music video right... Miko called." Your face lights up. "Wait really?" Stacy nods. "But this singer called first it starts at 1 pm- Mikos at 1:30 so it's it's bit tricky, you may have time to go to Mikos if she waits." You ponder her words, that's so close together. "I'm sure it'll be ok if I'm a little late to Mikos right?" She shrugs. "Hopefully."

It was the next day, you were walking into the studio of your first singer, she wasn't very famous so you hadn't heard of her before. "Darla." She extends her hand out to shake it. You introduce yourself too. "Its nice to meet you." "Likewise." She says with a smile. "Right so I'll run through what you'll be doing in the scene." You nod as she speaks, walking along with her to the area the shot will be taking place. "Not too much of an intimate scene but there will be kissing." You smile softly. "Yeah course, I'll just go set my things down." You tell her, quickly going over to do just that.

"Action!" The director calls out. The music begins to play, and she was such a good singer, how had you never heard of her before. Even if she wasn't as well know, you were close with the industry because of what you do, surely you would've heard something. The kiss was coming, she gently grabbed your face going to lean in. It was more sweet and delicate than anything, you weren't complaining ofcourse. Nothing compared to Miko tho. It didn't last too long either, but when you pulled back you gave a soft smile. She seemed to be really sweet, she intrigued you to say the least.

Once everything that needed to be done was finished with you go to grab your stuff to head over to Miko. "Hey." Darla sprints over. You turn to look at her flashing your smile. "Youre really good to work with." Your smile widens. "Thank you! Heaps of people think so apparently." She smiles now. "Well I made a good choice hiring you, I saw you in some other music videos and begged my team to get you in here." You blush slightly. "That's really sweet, thank you for this opportunity, really."

You pulled up to Mikos studio, grabbing your bag and heading in. Stacy was yet to arrive so you decided to just go on in. As you go in you spot her and some other girl kissing for the shoot. Impatient. You thought to yourself. She spots you briefly, smirking at you. You hated it in all honesty. But you sat down anyways you don't know why you clearly weren't going to be in it. The way she was holding her, the way she was kissing her- you needed to stop thinking like this as if she was yours. Which she wasn't. Once the scene was done she strides over to you. "Well hello." You look up at her. "Hello to you too, see you couldn't wait a little bit." She gives you a look. "Hey not my problem you had other plans before me." You keep looking at her. "Its my job-" "And this is mine." She quickly adds. There was a silence. "Meet me in my trailer once I'm done with this yeah?" You furrow your brows, going to get up. But she sits you right back down. "No no. I want you to watch this." You keep your stare on her, a little confused but also a little annoyed. She smirks at you. Again. Going to head back over.

It was killing you, the way the girl would touch Miko the way she did. But why on earth would you feel this way it wasn't professional whatsoever. You averted your eyes just wanting this to be done already. Finally, when it was. She comes over to you heading for the door of the building. "Come on." She says. You hesitantly get up and follow her outside to her trailer. "Why do you even want to spea-" "what was the job you did." Your brows squeeze together. "What?" She waits a second. "What. Was, the job." Your brow now raises. "What's it to you." Leaning on the door just looking at her. She walks closer to you.. Impossibly closer. "Was it a kissing scene?" You genuinely couldn't believe this right now. "Mi-" "Was it. A kissing scene." You shake your head with a scoff. "Why do you even care, I could say the same about what you were doing, so what's the big deal." She glares at you. "First you were late, and all because of-" "because of what? Go on. I'm all ears." You stare right at her. For what felt like forever as the silence overtook. She was jealous, she knew it was a kissing scene. "Yeah, yeah it was."

Your posture straightens getting closer to her too. Her expression looks a little cold. Sexy. "She was all over me, and her lips.. mmm." Your smirk grew as you finish your sentence. She was a statue, staring at you. "What?" Moving even closer to her face. "Don't like the thought?" When all of a sudden her hand was wrapped around your neck, lightly pushing you back and against the door. She pauses before immediately kissing you. And God how you had missed it. When you're ready for air, you pull apart looking at one another. Her grasp still around your neck.

"No, no I don't." Her voice was low. "Huh. Shame." You speak, looking straight into her eyes. Her hand tightens, and out of nowhere slams your back against the door again. Not that you minded. But your eyes did go wide at the impact, when you then felt her knee, slowly wedging into your cunt. You let out a breath. Her face leans down to your ear. "Hmm, wondering who got you this wet then. Can feel it on my knee mama." You swallow thickly, that confidence evaporated. You had no idea what to even say. "Cat got your tongue?" She then says pulling back to look at you briefly. Her knee still in that position, moving a little bit. Making your mouth run slack. "She would never make you feel like I know. I can. And you know it too, isn't that right." She says, but oh boy was she not nearly done. "I mean, why else would you even come here. You knew damn well I could've gotten someone else considering your late arrival. So, why. Bother?" You had no formable words for her question. Because in fairness you didn't know. Or did you.. "go on, might as well say it hm?"

Taking a moment, letting out a small breath, her grip loosens. "W- wanted-" You swallow. "Wanted to see you anyway. M-missed you." You pathetically breathe out. It shocked you how weak she could get you, within seconds. "There you go." But you wanted to wipe the smirk off her beautiful face. "Mm, but what about with that girl." She glances at your lips. "Know you were thinking about me when you were kissing her, right?" Nothing, she's silent. "I'll take that as a y-" "bet I can fuck you so good. Oh wait, know I can. Does she get to?" That shut you right up as she gets closer again. "Didn't think so." She smirks again going to kiss you. Her hand slowly moves down into your jeans, past your underwear and straight to the point. "Didn't realize you were this wet." Your breath hitches, getting caught in your throat. "Who did this to you mi amor." Your eyes shut. "Y-you did." This only increases her ego, swiping her thumb along your neck as she still had it in her grasp. "Good. Good." Her lips were back on yours.

Kissing you hungrily. You gasp as her hand tightens, resulting in her slipping her tongue into your mouth. Her hand resumed it's actions in your pants, going straight to your entrance. You pull away from the kiss slightly. Breathlessly, letting a moan escape your lips. She speeds up. "I want you to cum on my fingers." You go to lazily kiss her again. "Miko.." You breathe out her name, feeling her thumb pick up on your clit. Her fingers pumping inside you, moving her lips to your neck. "So wet.. hungry for me huh?" You almost choke on your saliva, feeling your body go to mush in her hands. "P-please.. I need more." Her pace doesn't slow. "What more could you want angel. Go on. Tell me." It's like she knew exactly how to get you. Knew how inaudible you got during sex, especially when she made you feel the way you did. "I- mhf." You groan out. "Sorry, what?" She gets close to your face, staring you straight in the eyes.

"P- mmm." You started getting embarrassed at the way she had you, exactly where she needed you. But you were too far gone to give a shit. "Spit it out baby." You moan. "Need you to fuck me. Begging for you to." She swears she could go insane by your desperate voice. She quickly grabs your waist, beginning to bend you over the small couch in her trailer. Her swift movements, immediately taking off your pants. The cool air hitting directly on you. Your breath is uneven. "Miko.." "Getting there pretty girl." And she was, you felt the tip of her strap soon enough, making you hum gently. She slowly slides it in making your jaw drop, putting your hands down for support. Her pace was antagonizing slow. "F-faster." You blab. You feel her hands grope at your ass, eventually speeding up. "Know how you wished it was me today. Kissing you, bending you over like this. All you could think about huh mama?" The dirtiest moan comes out of you, feeling yourself coming to that breaking point. "S- fuck." You almost go cross eyed. It hit the perfect spot. "All I need to know." Miko smirks at your reply. "I'm so close.." But she doesn't respond, keeping that speed the same.

"Go on then, cum on it. Let me know just how much you wanted me, today." Your mouth runs dry as you felt it approaching. Her hand makes its way down to your clit, going at an ungodly pace. The action only speeds up your ogasm, making you squirt shortly after. Her eyes go wide only for a second as she wasn't expecting it, but she's left with a proud smirk.

"Good girl."

#young miko #young miko x reader #young miko smut

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nartml · 5 months ago

Text

Should Oikawa have gone to Shiratorizawa?

It's a well known fact that Oikawa, soon after graduation, left off to join the Argentinian Volleyball League.

Now, Oikawa was never able to beat Ushijima, which probably played a bigger role in his decision to immigrate to the other side of the world than you might think.

He was never able to go to Nationals and leave Miyagi, therefore never made his brilliance as a player known, and consequently was overshadowed by the other two 'genius' setters, Kageyama and Atsumu.

Something that would've been a huge hindrance to his career if he were to stay in Japan.

His reputation, or lack thereof, might have actually held him down for years, especially when there were two other setters who were arguably even better than him and already established their presence in the big leagues.

Ushijima knew this, and was certain that Seijoh was dragging Oikawa down, which is why he was so confident that Oikawa shot himself in the foot when he refused to go to Shiratorizawa.

Had he chosen otherwise, he would've gone to Nationals, where he'd also have his debut in the big leagues.

Scouts would undoubtedly take notice of this other brilliant setter who played everyone on both sides of the net like a fiddle—

Wait. What?

Would they have taken notice? Would there be something to take notice of?

Since when did Shiratorizawa rely on gimmicks, tricky strategies, and versatile attacks? Since when was there room for mind games?

Since when did coach Washijo allow anyone other than Ushijima to take the lead?

Didn't Semi get benched because he didn't prioritize Ushijima? Didn't he take the boot for not sucking up to him?

Oikawa shines, but that's only when he's actually allowed to do his thing.

His playing style is the exact opposite of what Shiratorizawa wants.

It was kind of stated by coach Ukai too.

"If Aoba Johsai is the most complete team in the prefecture, then Shiratorizawa is the most incomplete."

Shiratorizawa's playing style centers around individual strengths, raw power, and Ushijima.

Oikawa prefers a united front, plays connecting with one another, making room for proper adjustments and adaptation. He's down for the occasional mind game too.

But most of all, he prefers to take the damn lead.

Yes, cohesion is imperative for his playing style, but that's also the case for many of the strong teams we see in the show.

The difference is, Oikawa is clearly the one in the driving seat. We see it most of all in their team huddles.

Oikawa flawlessly communicates with his team, knows where, who, when, and how much to push, and while everyone participates in the discussions, he's clearly the leader.

He does the thinking, the planning, the strategizing. He keeps track of everyone on both teams.

He reminds me a bit of Kenma in that regard.

But apart from being the brain, he also has the athletic prowess, the technical skills, the passion, the people skills, and it's safe to assume, countless more hours of practice too.

Seijoh's coaches know that, and have let him cultivate all those skills through the years.

By contrast, we see coach Washijo usually butt in during the time-outs, and insist that his players just hold proper form to put in even more power, to be more dynamic on account of their physical stature.

Imagine how little of a say Oikawa would have, especially if he attended Shiratorizawa from the get-go.

The only first year we actually know is Goshiki. The rest are near entirely unknown.

I highly doubt he'd be half as devious a player as he is, had he had Washijo for a coach.

The chances that old guy would let him do even a fraction of his thing are next to zero.

At the end of the day, Oikawa is tricky, and Shiratorizawa just isn't.

So then, did Seijoh hold him back? I'm not sure.

We're not gonna talk about year-long friendships, bonds, and good chemistry, which were undoubtedly huge factors, both in his decision to attend Seijoh, and in everyone trusting him to do his stuff.

Let's just take a quick look at their capabilities as a bunch.

Objectively, they're strong. Skilled. But not strong enough, and not skilled enough either.

I mean, look at that first practice match. They didn't have Oikawa, and Karasuno, which kinda sucked at the time, beat them in straight sets.

Yes, it was a practice match. Yes, they got stronger later on.

But that loss highlighted, more than anything, just how much of an effect Oikawa had as the leader, and how much he elevated his teammates.

Without him, they would've been a lot weaker.

And that might just be exactly why Oikawa shone the way he did.

His judgement was trusted, and he learned how to take advantage of everyone's abilities and maximize them.

No, I'm not sure if Seijoh actually held him back, or if he partially owes his polished brilliance to them. Could be a bit of both.

I am sure, however, that Shiratorizawa would've actually done a hell of a lot more damage than Seijoh ever did.

#shiratorizawa #aoba johsai #seijoh #oikawa tooru #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #volleyball #coach washijo #haikyuu meta #analysis

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usbkinitopet · 7 months ago

Note

I'd like to put you in a fish tank. —E.Ron

"Well.. good thing I coded this small fish tank game, prior!.. or else this request would've taken a while!.. especially without admin privileges.. making games is a little tricky!.. I originally made this to place digital fish in here but.. never got the time too.."

".. Since we are on the topic of fish.. did you know Axolotls are solitary amphibians?.. too bad that doesn't apply to me!.. I can't stand to be alone!!.. oops!.. sorry.. there I go again giving facts!.."

(He's been contained, the threat is contained!.. just kidding.. this ask was really fun to do.. gave me an excuse to draw full scenes here!!.. I am happy to have done this :)) - Mod Soni

#kinito my beloved #kinitopet #usb!kinitopet #kinito au #kinito the axolotl #usb!kinito #usb!kinito au #kinito pet #kinito #kinitopet fanart #ask answered #kinito fanart #kinitopet my beloved #kinitopet au #kinitopet art #kinitopet ask blog

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fallowdoe · 1 month ago

Text

Deepfake

Uniting the realms is a tricky task - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

TW! SA and other heavy stuff

You're not sure when or where exactly you heard about it for the first time.

It might've been at RAD. Your fellow classmates didn't seem to consider this kind of topics to be "embarrassing", at least you didn't think so, considering how loud they'd be when discussing them. Most demons didn't consider taboo things that your human friends would talk about in hushed voices. Standing in the queue in the canteen would almost always result in learning the details of some random student's one-night stand. By simply walking by your classmate in the corridor you could learn all about their exact preferences in bed. The toilets seem to be drowning in conversations about what humans consider vulgar and obscene. Not to mention the kind of words you can hear passing by the changing rooms.

Even though your grandma would probably have a heart attack if she spent even just 5 minutes inside the academy, RAD is still an institution of high culture and all of this is considered to be rather good behaviour by Devildom standards.

Now that you think of it, maybe it was while on one of many shopping trips or errands, the brothers take you on. Devildom is loud and bright, it can be quite overwhelming no matter how long you've been here. It has the atmosphere of a Friday night, and most utilities are open 24/7, especially the clubs. Demons are loud, they want to be heard when they speak. Some are more reserved of course, but they rarely feel the need to make their conversations "private". If private was what they wanted they wouldn't speak about it at all, or at least wouldn't speak about it in the presence of countless strangers.

So just by going out, simply being among them, you learn things that would've never crossed your mind otherwise.

At least that's how you found out about this website.

It resembles blogs from the early 2000s. You know the ones, HTML, flashy and full of gifs, the sparklier the better.

It was fairly easy to find, which unfortunately doesn't take away from your worries right now. You just typed your name followed by a string of words related to 'porn' and the search engine served you exactly with what you were hoping was just a misunderstanding.

Well, it wasn't. The site you heard about earlier that day was now open for browsing on your laptop.

You've scrolled through the first few videos, some looked like they were just copied from pornhub or some other human site, but some had thumbnails that were rather… exotic.

There was a separate category for videos including humans, that was split into multiple sub-categories depending on various characteristics.

For now, you've decided to ignore the videos of random fetish clips of demon-human intercourse and keep scrolling.

You only stopped, when just a few seconds later it was your face staring back at you from the screen. In the thumbnail it was just you, blushing and sweaty, looking through the glass seductively at whoever stumbled upon the video. The title seemed like a string of clickbait words, but it made you nauseous.

''human MC addicted to riding demon cock, human, human exchange student, fucked into obedience, human pet [VIDEO]"

You pressed play.

Sure enough, it was you in the video, being fucked by multiple demons with all their demonic features out. Your body looked kinda different but your face was a perfect copy, the voice was also eerily similar to your own.

More videos started popping up underneath. All of which seemed rather similar to this one, although you've noticed that your body always looked different. It's as if whoever made those videos had no idea what you actually looked like and just improvised.

You scrolled back to the first video. Moans and whimpers reverberated through your head. Unlike most porn videos filled with fake over-pitched fake moaning and poor dirty talk, this one seemed to try and make it seem as "realistic" as possible. There was even some animalistic quality to it, the way this 'you' acted and how they were handled. Petted on the head, passed around by large, clawed hands. It reminded you of how you were called a cute little pet by different demons on multiple occasions.

You started skipping through the video, while this 'you' haven't uttered a single word besides some broken begging, it was all whining and mewling. Sharp breaths and stutters.

It was almost hypnotizing, seeing yourself whimpering and bending at different sexual angles to the camera.

You double-checked if your headphones were actually connected and if the sound didn't leak. The brothers often surprised you with how sensitive their hearing was, you could drop something or hiss after stubbing your toe and Mammon would burst into your room to check if you were still alive.

Having one of them come to check what those obscene sounds coming from your room were, was the last thing you needed right now. Especially since you knew, that they absolutely would come to check if they had really heard moaning.

The demons in the video on the other hand were much more talkative than your digital pornstar copy, cooing at this fake you and laughing between each other. The word ''pet'' was used the most often.

"Aw, is our little pet tired already?"

"Come on pet, you can handle some more."

"Be a good little pet and stay still."

You've debated on watching some more videos but ended up saving the site and closing your laptop after finding one titled ''demon Lords Using Their Human Pet".

Your heart was beating loudly, luckily it calmed down after a few deep breaths. Another thing about the brothers was that they could also sense stronger emotions, again, they would come check on you.

Your laptop ended up stuffed between folded sweaters in your wardrobe. Just in case anyone was to open it and see… what they were not supposed to.

You stepped into the bathroom and stared at yourself in the mirror for a while, trying to make sure that every little wrinkle and freckle was in the right place. This right here is the real you, you reminded yourself, this here is real. Those videos are not.

You turned the sink on and splashed some cold water onto your flushed face. The intense heat in your cheeks started to finally go away. Maybe you should thank Lucifer for giving you a personal bathroom again. Your dishevelled form in the mirror certainly was glad, they didn't have to go to the shared bathroom and risk running into someone.

The clock on your D.D.D. mercilessly reminded you it was almost dinnertime.

A hoodie and some sweatpants should do a decent job of hiding the goosebumps your skin was covered with. You prepped yourself mentally and set off to see the same faces that were staring at you from a fake thumbnail just minutes ago.

The rest of the night went by rather uneventfully. The dinner was kind of unsettling, hiding your restlessness from the brothers was close to impossible. A random excuse about a nearby quiz was enough to cease any further questions. It didn't mean everyone believed you, though. Multiple sets of eyes watched you with determination, to figure out what was it, that was really bothering you. It reminded you of the way, you were stared at in those videos and only added to your uneasiness.

You went to bed feeling surprisingly numb, the discovery of that cursed site was apparently so shocking that it tired you out so much, that it made you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Not sure what to do with the revelations of last evening, you've decided to keep quiet about it in front of the brothers and instead start an investigation. If you wanted to keep the number of people who saw any of those videos to a minimum, you had to be smart about this. Your first candidate for interrogation could be no other than a fellow human.

Out of curiosity, you decided to add Solomon's name to the search you typed out earlier, but nothing came up. This means either Solomon's just not as attractive to demons physically, or he's not attractive because realistically you doubt they would be able to do any of that to him. Without the protection of so many powerful individuals, you had no way of protecting yourself. The thought added to your already alarmingly growing distress.

You've ambushed the sorcerer at RAD, in the library. Your strategy was to inquire about some 'rumours', instead of revealing what you had actually found. God forbid he asks you to elaborate. This way you could check if said 'rumours' were popular enough to reach him. Also, you didn't want to show him the videos for obvious reasons. Even if it wasn't your body, it still felt way too intimate.

To your surprise, Solomon didn't seem as concerned about it as you imagined (or maybe hoped?) he'd be.

"Oh yeah, there's a lot of that. The human-demon thing in general." The sorcerer didn't even look up from his book, as he explained. "It's always been rather popular if I recall correctly".

At your lack of reaction, he finally looked up and was met with your dumbfounded face, which made him smirk.

"Are you really that much surprised?" he asked.

"Yeah." was all you could muster right now. You felt your eyelid twitch. His reaction was, very painfully, much in character for him. The ever-unbothered wizard. The sky could fall and rivers could run blood, he'd barely acknowledge it if at all.

"They probably use shape-shifting to make them. It must be really weird to you, although… maybe it's some kind of computer editing…" He trailed off obviously more invested in how the videos are made, rather than why.

Of course, he didn't care. Why would he? It's not like it's his face, his fellow classmates fantasize about fucking. And if they did, he'd probably put an end to it faster than these deviants could finish jacking off.

The thought made you feel lonely, Solomon's humanity usually drew you to him, the same way you'd rather sit next to a woman than to a man on a crowded bus. The familiarity of sharing a similar struggle of being in a foreign realm usually brought you some comfort, and Solomon used to acknowledge that in the past, acting sympathetic towards you when speaking about Devildom and its inhabitants. But his reaction to your questions left you feeling solitary again, you didn't share this struggle, so he didn't care. Here's to hoping that you didn't make him curious enough to look anything up by himself.

Well, that wasn't very helpful, seemed like you were left on your own again. You thought about bringing it up with Lucifer but you'd probably die of embarrassment while trying to explain what you've found and why were you on this kind of site in the first place.

The evening came and you've found yourself opening the site once again. This time you've scrolled a little further and found a comment section. Great. Exactly what you were hoping not to find.

Curiosity quickly won with your initial hesitation and you started browsing through them, although you've instantly regretted your decision.

"I wish I could bend that little bitch over" "Royal pet needs to learn her role" "I would fuck you like a whore every day"

Real classy.

You debate yourself on whether to scroll further but just a few comments below something more sinister is hiding.

"I jack off every time I see her, one day I'll lock her in an empty classroom or sth and finally have my way with her"

And the replies were even worse.

"I can't wait to finally get her alone, I'd share tho. Put her ass free for taking in a corridor or a bathroom or sth, hard-working students deserve such a cute glory hole" "Can someone tag the guy who had her underwear pics again?" "Can't believe they let her study here anyway, a really poor excuse for having a human fucktoy"

Ain't that a sight for sore eyes. Now, you were left wondering whether you really were in danger. Would any of them actually act on these desires, or were they only brave when hiding behind a stupid nickname and an obscene picture of an anime girl?

That one thumbnail showed up on your screen again. Your body covered with hands grabbing at and holding you in different spots. The cursed title, which promised to show you "what's going on at House of Lamentation".

Click or don't click, the video had a decent amount of views. Judging by those comments earlier, your fellow classmates were no strangers to these sites. Had they seen it? Do they think about it whenever they see you talking with the brothers? Had any of them jacked off to it?

Would the brothers also look off? Probably, although it might be hard to tell, it's not like you know exactly what they look like underneath their clothes. Would they have their wings and horns out? Probably, judging by the other videos, perhaps to highlight, that they were powerful predators, and you were just a defenceless, frail thing.

Click. Sure enough, horns, wings and dicks out. Their faces were off, lacking in emotion, but it didn't seem to matter, as the focus of the video was on you. This one was good, they nailed almost all of your proportions. Someone must have taken a really good look at you.

In the video, you were dressed in a lacy set and sat on a big, elegant couch. The place was definitely not the House of Lamentation, but it did little to ease up your mind.

The next 60 minutes were filled with praises said with almost perfect copies of their voices. For 60 minutes you sat glued to your screen, headphones on, and watched as the "brothers" had their way with "you".

They'd hold you down and tear the lingerie off, praise you, stroke you and pass you around. You were sat in Lucifer's lap as he spread your folds for everyone to see and comment on how wet you were. Mammon had you ride his face, while Leviathan held your hair in a fist and made you choke on his dick. Satan would fuck you, ass up face down on the floor. Asmodeus had you riding him in some complicated position, and the twins both had you at once, standing.

Your mind was struggling to comprehend what were you seeing. You were distressed, cheeks flushed, eyes teary. Aroused too, who wouldn't be?

Focused on your laptop, hearing limited by your headphones, you didn't notice someone walk in.

You only realised someone was standing in front of you when a hand suddenly grabbed the headphones and pulled them right off your head.

"Damn human, I was knockin' like crazy here. Ya deaf now, or some?" Mammon asked looking kind of annoyed, as if you didn't let him in on purpose.

Luckily your laptop was placed in a way that didn't let him see the screen, which you quickly shut off. Your hastiness, nervousness, looks, well, all of it, definitely did make it look like you were caught watching something you shouldn't have, but Mammon either didn't notice or didn't care. Or maybe he did notice and care but was too embarrassed to tease you about it.

"I'm busy Mammon." You got up and strategically placed your laptop in an obscured spot that didn't draw attention and picked up a stack of papers from your desk to occupy your mind on something else.

"Yeah sure, ain't nothing like too busy to hang out with me. You've been holed up in here for like, the whole week human. You making me look like I'm a bad pet owner or some shit." he joked.

The pet thing made you wince, even though the joke made you laugh in the past.

"Please Mammon, I'm really not in the mood today. I promise I'll hang out with you later," you muttered, not even facing him.

He stood there with his hands on his hips. You know your ''I'm okay" act wasn't too convincing, but you were hoping he wouldn't care enough to dig further.

"No way, you humans need the fresh air stuff and all of that. We're going out, get dressed Imma wait here." he draped himself on your bed and pulled out his D.D.D.

Clearly unable to convince him you sighed loudly and stomped over to the bathroom. You were in no shape to go out tonight, knowing Mammon he probably wanted to have you go with him to a club or a casino, but the thought of crowds terrified you. Your mind running like crazy, all those demons there, must have seen it.

Before you know it tears start trailing down your knees and you're holding your breath in, kneeling on the floor.

Mammon is mindlessly scrolling the Devilgram and thinking about you. Something is going on with you, that much is obvious, but what is it? By now, every one of them has pointed it out. As your first man, it was obviously his duty to find out what was bothering you and put an end to it, but how to do it if you don't want to tell him?

You were doing something on your laptop when he walked in, maybe it really is schoolwork that got you so distressed? He got up and walked over to your desk.

Just as he was about to reach out for the device he heard some odd noises coming from the bathroom. He felt you, through the pact. How overwhelmed you were.

So he walked over to the door, opened it and sat down on the floor with you. The hug he gave you was stiff. Nervous, but genuine. It was so Mammon-like that it calmed you down almost immediately.

"Damn, just say ya don't wanna go next time." he joked and it made you laugh out loud.

He smirked, trying to play it confident, but having you so close flustered him. He tried to tone down his tsundere persona tho.

"So ya wanna tell me what's bothering you or do I have to find out myself?"

No way in hell you were telling him, or worse, showing him. Any of them.

You shook your head and put it on his shoulder, breathing finally slowing down.

"Come on, ya can't go around moping like that! Lucifer's gonna get his panties in a twist by saying sth like "You have to make a good impression as an exchange student." and then blame me!" Mammon's vivid gesticulation made your body sway every time he moved, and that made you laugh again. "Ha! I knew ya just needed some of the Great Mammon!" he beamed.

"I'm okay Mammon," you sighed "Just tired. Humans just get like this sometimes." you tried to redirect him once more.

"Pfft, you're the weirdest human I know MC. Not that you're weird or something. Not that I like you!" he returned to his tsundere ways.

While Mammon was busy denying and declaring his fondness for you, you tried to figure out the plan for the upcoming days. If you didn't get your shit together they'd eventually find out.

Was there a way to get rid of those videos altogether? Their amount might be a problem. If Diavolo was to find out about them would he be able to take them down? What if he knew? Never mind, you'd never tell anyway. The idea of having to explain what exactly they portray was too mortifying to even consider doing it.

The RAD curriculum included lessons on basic knowledge about different species and the rules by which they operate. You understood, to some degree, that demons didn't really get to make decisions the same way humans do. Their free will was limited by their desires, which weaker individuals were completely subject to.

Even with your limited understanding of how this world works, you could clearly see what a threat this situation was becoming to you. There were demons at RAD who watched the videos and were not afraid to voice their desires online. It was only a matter of time before one of them got to act on it.

You had to do something, but make sure you didn't turn it into an even bigger mess. Unfortunately, there wasn't much that you could do by yourself. Still, instead of straight up telling someone, you could try asking for advice without revealing the whole problem first.

Solomon already knew, but he didn't seem too bothered. You could ask Satan, but his curiosity would eventually lead to him finding out about the whole situation and no doubt dragging everyone else into it too. Barbatos was reliable, but not discreet like you needed. Lucifer and Simeon were also out of the question for similar reasons.

Who else? Beel and Belphie wouldn't help very much. Mammo would end up telling everyone, like Satan. Levi also didn't seem like a very good choice.

That left Asmo, who could either be really helpful or very, very unhelpful. You hesitated for a moment, pondering whether Asmodeus was the right choice. His attitude towards such matters might not be what you need, but if anyone could provide insight into how to handle the situation—or at least offer advice on damage control—it would be him. However, there was still the risk he might find this whole situation more amusing than alarming.

You sighed and leaned into Mammon’s shoulder a little more. For now, you weren’t ready to confront Asmo or anyone else about it. The overwhelming violation you felt from those videos still crawled under your skin. You couldn’t shake the image of your classmates walking past you, seeing you not as a person but as an entertainment, piece of meat to be fucked, then eaten.

And the thought that some of them wanted to act on those fantasies—physically cornering you in classrooms or hallways—was enough to make your stomach turn. What scared you the most was how powerless you felt in the face of it all. You were outnumbered and apparently actively hunted.

Mammon shifted beside you, likely sensing your nervousness "Oi, I dunno what's goin' on, but if someone's messin' with ya, just tell me, alright? I'm your first, remember? I'll kick their asses if they even think about it," he declared with a fierce determination that only made your heart sink deeper.

If only it were that simple. You weren’t sure how Mammon—or any of the brothers—would react if they found out what was actually going on. Would they be angry? At them? At you? Or would they find it too embarrassing to talk about, too awkward to address? Even worse, what if some of them didn’t take it seriously at all? You remembered Asmo laughing at the idea of certain demons’ fetishes and preferences—would he laugh at your distress?

A soft knock at the door startled you both. Mammon, ever the defensive one, stood up in an instant. "Who’s there?"

"It’s just me," came the soft voice of Beel. He opened the door slightly, sticking his head in. "I thought I smelled something… are you two okay?"

You forced a small smile. "Yeah, Beel. Everything's fine. Mammon was just being… Mammon."

Beel eyed you with concern, clearly not buying your half-hearted attempt at reassurance. "You should eat something, MC. You’ve barely touched your food lately."

You nodded, realizing how easy it had been to forget about meals amidst everything that was happening. "I will. I promise."

Beel lingered for a moment before he finally left, leaving you alone with Mammon again.

"Ya heard him," Mammon grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Beel’s right—ya gotta eat. C’mon, let’s head down to the kitchen."

But the last thing you wanted was to face the rest of them again. Not after what you’d seen and the vile comments that still echoed in your mind.

"I’ll catch up in a minute," you said, standing up and brushing yourself off. "I just… need a minute."

Mammon didn’t look entirely convinced, but he gave a curt nod, seemingly aware that pushing too hard would only make things worse. "Fine, fine. But don’t take too long, alright?"

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you exhaled sharply. Alone again, you let yourself collapse onto the bed. Your mind raced as you stared blankly at the ceiling.

You needed a plan. Something. Anything.

Asmo was still a risk, but perhaps he was your best option. He knew the ins and outs of demon desires better than anyone, and if you framed it as a hypothetical situation, maybe he wouldn’t ask too many questions. Maybe.

Without thinking, you grabbed your D.D.D. and scrolled through your contacts, your thumb hovering over his name for what felt like an eternity. You bit your lip, hesitating one last time before finally sending a quick message.

You: Hey, are you free??

It didn’t take long for a reply to pop up, Asmo’s characteristic excitement already shining through his words.

Asmo: Of course, darling! Come to my room? Or should I come to yours?

You sighed. Maybe this was a good idea. Maybe Asmo would know how to handle this—or at least give you some advice on what to do next. Before your anxiety could change your mind, you quickly typed back.

You: I’ll come to your room.

Sure enough, he was waiting for you, draped over his lavish bed, manicured hands typing quickly at his D.D.D. The entire room shimmered with elegance—silk sheets, golden accents, everything carefully curated to reflect Asmo's refined tastes. He barely looked up as you entered, his eyes glued to whatever was captivating his attention on the screen.

"Hey," you greeted, cursing yourself internally for how stiff you sounded. If you wanted to keep your dignity intact, this had to be a top-tier performance. You needed to act casual, as if this was just another lighthearted conversation, even though your insides were twisted in knots.

"Oh?" His expression shifted slightly—still playful, but more focused now. "Do tell. It must be serious if it’s making you this tense."

Asmo finally looked up, offering you a slow, amused smile. “Darling! To what do I owe the pleasure of such a visit? And at this hour, no less,” he teased, clearly intrigued but not in the least bit worried.

You shifted, feigning nonchalance. “Gossip,” you said, a little too quickly. But maybe that worked. Maybe it would make you sound like you were just excited to share some juicy tidbit.

“Gossip?” He tilted his head, his interest visibly piqued. He set his D.D.D. aside, leaning back on his elbows with a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh, you’ve come to the right demon. Spill it. I’m all ears.”

“I heard some girls talking about one of the succubi I share classes with, the one with pink hair, that someone sent them some fake-ass videos of her online. It sounds made up, do you know anything about it?” You tried to make it sound believable, but there was a chance he’d see right through you.

Asmo’s eyebrows shot up, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. He leaned forward just a little, clearly intrigued by the mention of drama. “Oh, her?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling with interest. “Fake videos, you say? Mmm, that does sound like the kind of low-effort gossip that circulates from time to time. But I haven’t heard anything… yet.”

He paused, studying your face with a knowing look, as if he was assessing whether you were holding something back. Then, with a grin, he reclined back against the pillows, folding his arms behind his head. “But you know how these things go. If it’s fake, it’ll blow over. If it’s real… well, things could get juicy.” He laughed lightly, still clearly enjoying himself.

You felt a small wave of relief wash over you—he wasn’t pressing too hard, at least not yet. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Just another rumour,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I figured if anyone would know, it’d be you.”

“Well, darling, you’re not wrong.” He gave you a conspiratorial wink. “But even I can’t catch every scandal the moment it breaks.” He shifted, now leaning on one arm, his expression still playful but a little sharper, as if he was waiting for you to drop something juicier. “So, is that really all you came to tell me? Or is there something more interesting you’re holding back?”

Your heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t fully bought the story, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to push you too hard—at least not yet. You might be able to poke around the topic some more.

“I saw some of it on their D.D.Ds,” you continued, trying to keep your voice casual, “didn’t look fake at all, though.”

Asmo’s smile widened, his amusement unmistakable. “That’s the point, lovely,” he purred, clearly enjoying this far more than he was letting on. “If you’re going to stir up a scandal, it has to be convincing.” He crossed his legs elegantly on the bed, his gaze steady on you, as though savouring the tension in the air. “So, tell me—how good was the fake? Scandal-worthy, or just amateur work?”

You hesitated again, feeling that tight knot forming in your stomach, but backing out wasn’t an option anymore. “It looked pretty real to me,” you said with a casual shrug, forcing yourself to look nonchalant. Slowly, you walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, trying to seem more at ease even though your nerves were screaming otherwise.

Asmo’s gaze followed your every move, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as you sat beside him. “Mmm, impressive,” he mused softly, shifting his weight closer to you. His hand trailed lazily across the silk sheets until it landed near your thigh, his fingers just grazing the edge of your leg. “You know, darling, I can always tell when someone’s holding something back from me.” He tilted his head, his voice still light and teasing, but there was a flicker of intensity behind his words. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, his hand moving to rest more firmly on your leg now. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, and you knew he was pressing for more. “How do they even make those videos look so real?” you asked, your voice sounding a little too innocent.

Asmo chuckled softly, his fingers beginning to trace idle patterns on your leg, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Oh, darling, it’s not that hard if you know the right tricks. A little magic, a little creativity… but why are you so interested?” His voice dropped lower, smooth and inviting, but there was an edge of curiosity sharpening in his tone now. “You’re asking a lot of questions. What’s got you so curious?”

You felt his hand slide a bit further, his touch becoming more deliberate, and it took everything in you not to flinch. The air felt thick with tension, and you could feel his gaze boring into you, waiting for you to crack.

Before you could answer, the door flew open with a loud crash, startling both of you. “Oi! What’s goin’ on in here?!”

You felt like eyes followed you everywhere you went these days, a heavy, invisible weight pressing on you no matter where you were. It started subtly at first—a glance here, a passing look there—but now it felt constant, like you were under a spotlight you hadn’t asked for. Yesterday at the café Lament the waiter couldn't stop looking your way, lingering with his gaze even as he took Satan’s order. You tried to ignore it, but it gnawed at you, that strange intensity in his eyes.

Then there was Majolish. The cashier had given you a look so unnerving it left a cold pit in your stomach like he was part of some inside joke that you were on the wrong side of. His eyes had scanned you with that same, unsettling awareness, as if you were missing something crucial.

It didn’t stop there. Later, at the grocery store with Beel, you found yourself using his broad frame like a shield, hiding behind him as you paid for your snacks. You didn’t even want to look the cashier in the eye, afraid you'd catch another one of those unsettling stares. You weren’t sure if it was real anymore or just your imagination, but every glance felt heavy, charged with something more than simple curiosity.

Every demon you passed in the street seemed to watch you, their gazes lingering just a little too long. You’d always drawn attention in the Devildom—being human in a world of demons was enough to make anyone curious—but this was different. This wasn’t casual glances or fleeting interest; it felt like scrutiny. The paranoia began to creep in. Had they always been staring like this? Or had it only started recently, and you were just now noticing? Every side glance felt like a threat, every whisper behind your back like it was meant for you.

Each day it grew worse, and you couldn’t help but wonder: what did they see when they looked at you?

You didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

Exactly a week after discovering those damned videos, you found out just how real the abstract threats in the comments could be.

The hot, slimy trail of a tongue dragging along the curve of your neck made you shudder in disgust. Your skin crawled, muscles tensing involuntarily as the bile rose in your throat. The demon had you pinned beneath him, your wrists bound in one of his clawed hands while his other hand fumbled impatiently with your uniform blazer. His grip was vice-like—no matter how much you thrashed, how desperately you squirmed beneath him, it was as if he didn’t even notice. You were nothing more than a rag doll under his weight, your feeble attempts at escape met with complete indifference.

The dark corridor echoed with your own ragged breaths, the distant bustle of more crowded areas seemingly worlds away. Panic clung to you like a second skin, your heart hammering violently in your chest, but your mind was racing too fast to keep up with any plan of escape. You didn’t even notice that you were walking into the more secluded section of the library, only understood when someone grabbed you and dragged you out into the back corridor connecting it with an unused part of the building.

“Stop…please!” You gasped out, voice shaking, but your attacker didn’t listen. He was too busy reliving some sick fantasy of his own.

“Oh, sweetheart, you should’ve known better.” His voice was rough, taunting as if he were savouring your fear. His breath was hot against your ear, his words dripping with malice. “You put yourself out there. On that site. Now you’ve got my attention.”

He tugged at your blazer with more force, buttons popping loose, the fabric pulling tight against your skin as he worked to expose more of you. Your chest heaved, your mind screaming at you to fight harder, to do something, anything, but it was like your body refused to obey. All you could do was kick out weakly, your legs pinned under his weight as he continued, relentlessly.

You felt his sharp nails graze your skin, making you flinch, the sensation like needles against your bare flesh. In a desperate attempt, you tried to call on your pacts but couldn’t focus enough to do so.

The cold air hit your exposed chest and you whined loudly. This seemed to excite your assaulter even more.

“Yes! More sounds like this!” he laughed crazed and started working on your pants.

The zipper was barely holding on when the weight on top of you was suddenly yanked away with a force so powerful it made your head spin. You gasped, struggling to process what had just happened, your heart still thundering in your chest as you scrambled back, pushing yourself up against the cold wall. Through your blurred vision, you saw a familiar figure standing tall. You had a hard time understanding what exactly was happening. All you could focus on were the pained whimpers of your assaulter and how blood dripped on the floor from where Lucifer’s claws were piercing his skin.

Mammon appeared in front of you. He silently took his own blazer off and helped you cover yourself with it. You clutched the fabric tightly, desperate for any shred of normalcy. His lips moving, but the only sound that reached your ears was a dull, persistent ringing. You could see he was saying something—something important, no doubt—but your mind was too overloaded to comprehend. Everything felt distant, and surreal, like you were trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was warm, and gentle, so at odds with the raw violence still playing out behind him. He tried to lift you, but it was then that you realized just how badly you were shaking. Your legs felt like they weren’t even there, your body completely stiff from the overwhelming rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

“Mammon?” You choked out, your voice barely a whisper you couldn’t hear yourself, the adrenaline making your muscles completely stiff. Your throat burned, and you weren’t sure if it was from the panic or the strain of trying to speak.

There was a brief flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as if he was trying to assess just how bad things were. Then, without another word, he scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest. The world around you swayed, but Mammon’s grip was firm, protective.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” he muttered under his breath, though whether he was speaking to you or himself, you couldn’t tell.

As Mammon turned, his gaze locked with Lucifer’s. The tension between them was palpable, but there was an unspoken understanding in that brief exchange. Lucifer’s hand was still gripping the now limp demon, his expression still cold and merciless. “Go back to the House of Lamentation,” he simply stated. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Did you see any of it?”

“I didn’t watch any,” Solomon replied evenly. “I assume that’s what you mean.” His face betrayed no emotion, no hint of pity or judgment—just the steady, calm demeanour you’d come to expect from him. “But I saw how many there were.”

His words hung in the air, a weight you couldn’t quite shake. You didn’t need the details. The sheer volume alone was enough to twist the knife already lodged deep inside you. Solomon’s tone wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t gentle either. And that was exactly what you needed right now.

The past few days had been a blur of forced smiles and constant hovering. The brothers, despite their good intentions, had treated you like you were made of glass—afraid that at any moment, you’d shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces. Lucifer had barely let you out of his sight, his protective instincts at an all-time high. Mammon hovered too, quieter than usual, though his fierce glances at anyone who so much as looked at you made his feelings clear. Asmo helped you get rid of any physical evidence of what you went through. Everyone was checking in on you every few hours, trying to distract you from your own thoughts.

It was suffocating.

Solomon, on the other hand, didn’t fuss. He didn’t crowd you with reassurances or treat you like you were some delicate porcelain doll. He was here, offering silent support, but allowing you space to breathe. You were grateful for that.

“Thanks for not… hovering,” you mumbled, feeling a small knot of tension ease as you sat down across from him.

He smiled faintly, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “I figured you’ve had enough of that by now.” He, of course, wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t follow it up with “It was really stupid of you not to tell anyone”.

“I kind of assumed everyone knew,” you admitted. “Besides, how would you even picture that? Hey, there’s fake porn of me all over the web, what do I do?” “That’d be a good start you know.”

You groaned, leaning back in your seat. “Easy for you to say.”

“Perhaps. But keeping it to yourself only made things worse.”

Before you could retort, a soft knock on your door broke the tension. Lucifer stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the room with his usual commanding aura. His sharp gaze flicked to Solomon, sitting a little too comfortably on the edge of your bed, and his eyebrows scrunched in subtle disapproval. He didn’t say anything about the sorcerer’s proximity, but the air in the room shifted slightly.

Lucifer cleared his throat, stepping further into the room with the weight of something official behind him. “I spoke with Diavolo,” he began, his tone formal, measured, “and on his behalf, along with the entire Student Council, I would like to extend our deepest apologies for the—” he paused, clearly choosing his words with care, “—misfortune of both the assault and the online incident.”

You groaned, louder this time, and fell face-first into your pillow, muffling a frustrated sigh. “Please, please tell me you’ve found a way to get rid of those.” You lifted your head just enough to eye Lucifer, your voice laced with desperation. “Or at least tell me that none of you showed any to Diavolo as an ‘example.’” There was a long pause, and Lucifer’s silence was deafening. You groaned again, louder this time, burying your face back into the pillow. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He was informed of the situation,” Lucifer continued, his voice flat, but there was the slightest tension at the edges. “But no explicit material was shown to him directly. Rest assured, we are working tirelessly to remove any trace of those videos.”

Solomon, ever the opportunist, smirked. “It must’ve been quite the conversation. Diavolo doesn’t strike me as someone who’s used to handling such… delicate topics.”

Lucifer shot him a sharp look, clearly not in the mood for jokes, before returning his attention to you. "This is being taken very seriously. Diavolo is personally overseeing the investigation as he considers this to be a, hm, personal failure I suppose. But it will take time and might not be as effective as we’d like."

You sat up, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead. The whole situation felt like a nightmare, a weight that wouldn’t lift no matter how hard you tried to shake it. "I know it’s hard to get rid of something on the internet, especially with some of those freaks probably working overtime to make more," you muttered, a bitter edge creeping into your voice.

Solomon snorted softly at your remark, his expression turning wry. "You're not wrong. The internet’s a hydra—cut off one head, and two more appear."

You sighed, sinking deeper into your frustration. "But I was hoping Diavolo could just, I don’t know, magic it all away? Wave his hand, say some ancient words, and poof—this whole nightmare's over. Everyone forgets, and I go back to not being… whatever this is."

Lucifer's expression softened, though there was a weight in his eyes. "I understand why you'd hope for that, but even Diavolo’s magic has limits. I promise that until it all dies down you have nothing to fear, we’ll be taking more precautions for your safety from now on.”

You sat up again, feeling a mix of exhaustion and determination settle into your bones. "I appreciate all of the concern, really. But until this all goes away, I’m still stuck feeling like… well, like this." You gestured to yourself, feeling the weight of all the unwanted attention you’ve received so far. The video featuring you with the brothers came to your mind and you flinched, the thought of anyone you knew watching it felt especially mortifying.

A wave of exhaustion washed over you, and your eyelids grew heavy, the weight of everything finally catching up with you. You tried to shake it off, but your body felt like it was made of lead. Before you could voice your fatigue, Solomon already excused himself from your room bidding you good night.

The silence that followed felt both comforting and isolating. You allowed yourself to lean back against the pillows, the plush fabric cradling you as you closed your eyes. A soft sound in the darkness caught your attention—Lucifer’s footsteps approached, and you opened your eyes just enough to see him lingering in the doorway.

“Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

You nodded slowly, even though you weren’t entirely sure it was true. "Just tired."

"Rest, then," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "You’ve faced enough for one day. I’ll be nearby if you need anything." Feeling a small spark of reassurance, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into the pillows to dream your uneasy dreams.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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