#it’s less sad than it sounds but it’s still very angsty

[autumnscribbles]

take care of you | rc

pairing: mommyissues!rafe x pogue!reader

summary: after a heated argument with ward, rafe seeks comfort from the only woman in his life who’s ever stayed

warnings: wee bit of theorizing about mama cameron (death)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: hey friends!! thank you to the anon that sent this request in!! i love me a soft rafe moment who just needs to be held🥹 enjoy!! feel free to send me more angsty/soft rafe i love it!!!

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Rafe slammed the truck door shut behind him, twisting his key into the ignition. Ward stood in the doorway ahead of him, his mouth moving but his words unheard. Rafe stopped listening to him even before he decided to leave. He couldn’t listen to it anymore. The rain pelted the windowsill, overpowering the pounding sound of his accelerated heartbeat. He pulled out of the driveway, no destination in mind. He just had to leave.

As he drove, his headlights broke through the rain ahead, illuminating the pitch black road. His breathing was still heavy, trying to ignore his fight with Ward. They weren’t exactly few and far between, but this one had escalated particularly badly. He replayed it over and over, on the verge of screaming just to make it stop.

He didn’t know why he tried to hard to impress Ward, or to get his validation. Everyone is his life left in one way or another. Whether it was on their own terms, or they were taken. He clung to Ward and the fact that just maybe, he would stick around. Be proud of him. In the end, everyone gave up on him. Everyone screwed him over.

Except maybe one person.

When Rafe first met you, he didn’t like you. He never thought he could be friends with a pogue, let alone be with one romantically. You had too much confidence for someone who didn’t have very much. He admit, he thought less of you. He judged you about things that didn’t truly matter. Eventually, he began to find you endearing. You didn’t need boats, a big house, designer clothes, or anything material to be happy. You knew who you were, and he admired that.

You understood him in ways no kook ever had, and probably more than any kook ever will. You knew hardship, and you saw through his bravado. You could tell deep down, he was in pain. No money could fix what was truly happening inside. All the other kooks were shallow. Never having any conversations with substance, just rambling about bullshit. Rafe never really fit in with any of them. He pretended to be friends with most of them, to keep up appearances and his reputation. At the end of the day, he knew none of them truly cared about him. Even worse, he knew they would mock him if they knew he was with you.

Without realizing, Rafe ended up pulling into your driveway. Through the still pouring rain, he could barely see your house. All the lights were off, including the porch light. Were you home? He didn’t even know. As his mind reeled, he automatically drove here. He wanted to see you. Wanted your comfort. Before you, he hadn’t had that in a long time. Since his mom…no one had ever been there for him. No one to tell him things would be okay, no one to comfort him, or hold him. He craved it.

He hopped out of the car, jogging through the rain to your front door. He rapped his knuckles, hoping you would appear on the other side. He saw a light turn on inside, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

You opened the door, met with a dripping wet and sad looking Rafe on the other side. You were surprised to see him. You had some distance from each other recently, since Rafe told you that his friends couldn’t know about your relationship. You pulled back as he continued to hang out with them, unsure how to move forward.

Seeing him here made your heart sink. He pouted as his blue eyes bore into yours, sadness overcoming his entire expression.

“Can I come in?” he asked. “Please.”

“Of course,” you muttered. You stepped aside, letting Rafe into your empty house.

He crossed the threshold, a shiver coming over his body at the sudden change of temperature. His wet clothes left him cold, making the warmth of your house even more shocking to his system. He wiped at his face in attempt to dry it.

“Are you cold?” you asked gently. “Here let me go get you some clothes and a blanket.”

You walked away for a moment, leaving Rafe standing in your doorway. You gathered a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that belonged to your brother. He wasn’t here, he wouldn’t mind. You snatched your fuzzy blanket from your bed, scurrying back to where Rafe stood waiting. You passed him the clothes, offering him to go change.

As he took his time, you put a kettle of water on the stove. Opening your white cabinets, you rummaged through the various flavours of tea you had. You settled on chamomile. You knew Rafe liked it, even though he would never admit it to literally anyone else. You grabbed 2 mugs and placed the tea bags inside as the kettle began whistling.

You took the two steaming mugs out to the coffee table, where Rafe sat on the couch, waiting for you.

“Here,” you muttered, handing him the mug. You grabbed the blanket, placing it across his lap. “That should warm you up.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, gentle eyes looking up at you.

You sat down beside him, tucking your legs up on the couch. You both sat in silence for a moment, sipping your tea. He let out a small sigh after his first sip, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“My favorite,” he whispered. You responded with a nod.

“You take such good care of me,” he said, breaking the silence more. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Rafe,” you sighed.

He shook his head, not wanting you to deny the truth. He didn’t want you to tell him that he deserved it when he knew it wasn’t true. You were consistently there for him, exuding a kindness he’d never felt. Yet what did he do in return? Essentially tell you he’s embarrassed about your relationship. It was ridiculous, and you shouldn’t be nice to him.

“Come here,” you whispered, opening your arms to him.

His eyes welled up with tears, and he leaned over, resting his head on your lap. You tugged the blanket up slightly higher, covering his torso. You ran your hands through his hair and down his back, feeling the tension release from his body.

Unexpectedly, the tears continued to fall harder. Rafe’s breath caught in his throat as he heaved out a sob.

“You’re okay,” you cooed. “I’m here.”

He let out all the emotions he had been trained to hold back. Grown men didn’t cry. Strong men didn’t cry. This is what he was told over and over. No one ever let him express himself freely, or show vulnerability. For some reason, he felt safe to show it around you. Confident that you didn’t judge him, or view him as weak.

He didn’t realize how much he was craving to just be held. To have his hair played with, his back scratched. To be told it’s okay. He couldn’t remember a time when someone treated him so gently. He wondered if his mom was the last person who truly took care of him. Now, he felt responsible to take care of people around him most of the time.

“Talk to me,” you said. “What happened?”

“My dad,” he blurted out. He rubbed the tears from his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to compose himself. “We got into a fight, as always. I accused him of…of killing my mom.”

“What?” you asked, unable to hide the shock in your voice. “Do you really think…”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was too young, but sometimes what he says just doesn’t add up. Doesn’t matter anyway, not like anything would happen to him.”

You nodded silently, knowing he was right. Even if Ward had killed her, no justice would be had. You knew Rafe grappled with the loss of his mom. Rose wasn’t exactly a replacement. She was cold, unkind. Rafe was in a constant battle with Ward. Trying to impress him, get his validation. Rafe grew up wanting his dad’s success, but most of all he just wanted his love. His acceptance. He didn’t think he would ever have a real family. That possibility only came into view when he met you.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” you consoled him. “I know how tense things can get with your dad. My arms are always open if you need a break, or need to talk.”

He sat up from your lap, facing you. His eyes were bloodshot from his previous tears. His usually hard features had softened, his eyes still carrying a deep sadness that you knew you couldn’t fix.

“I’m going to tell everyone we’re together,” he told you. “You’re…you’re perfect. You don’t deserve to be hidden. I don’t deserve you in general.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “When you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” he nodded. “I think…I think you’re the only person who actually cares about me. Who listens and…sees me.”

Your eyes welled up slightly. You weren’t expecting Rafe to say something so vulnerable like this. His rough edges were beginning to soften around you.

“I see you, Rafe,” you told him. You reached out and cupped the side of his face, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

He leaned forward, his warm lips crashing onto yours. The kiss was desperate, yet gentle. You didn’t realize how much you had missed this. When you pulled away, Rafe’s eyes were glistening once more.

“Everyone in my life leaves, or screws me over,” he told you, repeating his previous thoughts. “Please don’t leave me.”

You pulled him towards you, wrapping your arms around him. He melted into your touch, safety and warmth encompassing his entire being.

“I’m here, Rafe,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You heard his stomach gurgle, making you let out a quiet chuckle. “Hungry?”

He nodded into the crook of your shoulder. You laughed once more as he pulled back, a smirk on his face.

“Let me make you something,” you told him. You planted a kiss on his cheek before standing up, placing the blanket over his carefully. “You just sit here and relax, okay?”

“I love when you take care of me, baby,” he murmured as he rested his head on the arm of the couch.

You smiled down at him before going into the kitchen to make him some food. He felt safe with you. You had to admit that your heart soared at the thought that you were the first person he came to after a fight with his dad. The first person he opened up to about his mom, to try in front of.

You didn’t even realize it would always be you. You would always be the first person he would run to, even in a crowded room.

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[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

The juanaflippa fic is out btw!

[gotstabbedbyapen]

I have very complicated feelings for the Vengeance Saga (after the first listen)

Disclaimer: I will only criticize Epic the Vengeance Saga as a work on its own, not for its inaccuracy or deviation from mythology and The Odyssey. There are more knowledgable people who can point out and analyze the changes in Epic the Musical, but that is not what I'll be tackling here.

To put it bluntly, I'm not being angsty about it as I should. The whole saga just... didn't feel right with me.

Now, first off all, I'm a big fan of Epic and had been following it since the Cyclops saga (first version). I've been in love with many songs and hyperfixed it for months on end. But when the Vengeance saga came along, I didn't feel that same bubbling love rise in me.

Even as a fan, this isn't my first time having peeves with Epic. I didn't jam with the re-release sagas for a while, I'm underwhelmed with the Circe VS Odysseus fight and other issues, very unpopular opinion but "Monster" wasn't too impactful to me, and also the God Games (especially Zeus' attack).

The Vengeance Saga though? Well, they say we gotta do the Bun-Meat-Bun (or whatever the hell its name really is) technique when giving criticism, so I'll start with the good parts.

I love that Odysseus looked so done with Calypso in "Not Sorry For Loving You". They're basically this meme:

Like sorry you're a sad but you're still an abuser 😒

Then Odysseus starts singing the reprise for "Full Speed Ahead" but there's no one to back him up. That one hits me hard. To whoever on Tumblr said that after the Thunder Saga we will never hear the crew's back-up again and Odysseus' singing will be answered with silence, Apollo really blessed you with the red ball.

Hermes and the Winions' part was really cool too! I really like them being mischievous helper! The warning about the wind bag and the changing scene of Odysseus fighting off sea monsters while Hermes just vibing with the beats is 👌👌👌

But after that the hype started to sizzle out for me. You might want to skip this part if you're not comfortable with harsh criticism because I WON'T hold back.

It's really backward but I like the Odysseus VS Charybdis draft more than the final production. Charybdis' roars and music are somehow less intimidating, which is a shame because I thought this would be one of the biggest struggles Odysseus will face. Even with awesome illustrative animatics, the scene wasn't as thrilling as I've expected.

The other songs got massive improvement from its draft version (on top of my mind I can think of "Thunder Bringer", "There Are Other Ways", "Little Wolf"), but I don't get why "Charybdis" didn't get up-graded as much like them. It's like a cake that was throughly baked but half decorated and it just didn't taste as good as I've hoped.

Then we have the Odysseus VS Poseidon part in "Get In The Water" and "Six Hundred Strikes". The first thought I had for GITW is this song sounds like all the draft snippets were mashed together without a smooth transition/connection between them. Jorge and Steven's performance is great, but there's not enough tension for me to dread for Odysseus. When Poseidon first met Odysseus in "Ruthlessness", the whole opening was terrifyingly good! And we didn't even have any illustration animatic back then! (that's not to say the GITW animatics were bad, they just can't salvage much when the song itself was already weak)

I wasn't impressed with Poseidon's Shatter The Ocean move either. It's supposed to be the Strongest AttackTM but it's less scary than when he and the Laestrygonians destroyed Odysseus' eleven ships with probably 1% of their power. It didn't even help when Poseidon looked like he's having a seizure with lights pouring out of his eyes and mouth during the transformation.

Odysseus being literally on the brink of death with the souls of his loved ones pulling him into the abyss is a gem in the rough, but because we've seen Odysseus almost drowning before in the end of the Thunder Saga, it's not as shocking as it should be. Furthermore, Poseidon could have instant-killed Odysseus right then and there but didn't really annoyed me. But I guess he just wanted Odysseus to slowly suffer while dying.

Right when I thought the progress will get better, it... gets down. I can go with Odysseus using wind to escape the water, but him wearing it like a jetpack is so comical it ruined the drastic of the situation. And I'm officially let down when Odysseus FUCKING ATTACKED Poseidon in "Six Hundred Strike".

What? Just... why with that choice?

Look, I'm not gonna fault Epic for making creative liberties from the source material (as said in the disclaimer), but I will criticize if that change contradict itself in the transformative work. And this is one of them.

Poseidon and the gods have been proven time and time again in the musical just how powerful they are. Their ominous and grandiose entrances, them striking fear and inferiority in our hearts just by singing. Even Circe, a low-level goddess, poses a constant threat to the crew and Odysseus had to get help from Hermes just to get a chance to corner her (and Hermes even joked that he can still die!)

Poseidon easily destroyed almost all of Odysseus' fleet. Odysseus was very avoidant of him, opting to go to the literal Underworld to find instruction on how to dodge him and sailing through Scylla's lair + willing to sacrifice six men for safe passage. And when Poseidon said he can drown all of Ithaca, it's not just bluffing, he would and could have done that. Yeah, the King of the Sea is THAT BIG of a treat.

So no, Odysseus isn't cool to attack Poseidon, he's being stupid. I'm not even cheering for him the whole him he fight, just groaning at how ridiculous the whole thing is. If Epic is more believable and sticks to WHAT IT HAD ESTABLISHED BEFORE, having a sudden burst of anger and choosing ruthlessness won't save Odysseus from one swipe of Poseidon's trident. Odysseus stood no chance against a one of the most powerful deity, even if he's the protagonist and love his family.

Not only that, Poseidon didn't even defend himself and was wounded by a mere human! And he just sat there and took all the blows and insults from Odysseus??? And he actually begged Odysseus to stop and agree to quell the storm to let him get home??? I'm not buy that bullshit. I'm more upset that a literal Olympian god was nerfed down than Odysseus having a Gary Stu moment. Give me a break, that try-hard moment to be cool and edgy just show how badly written the scene is.

What's the fucking point of hyping up how dangerous the gods are if a human can take one down? Tell me this isn't some Wattpad-y Greek myth retelling fanfic where the teenage Y/N sass her way to defeat an entire pantheon. Epic really traded its opportunity to be better for some cheap and out-of-the-blue dramas in this saga, dare I say it's even worse than Zeus' OOC attack on Athena. I'm very disappointed with that decision.

On an end note, the saga did have one saving point with the "After everything you've done, how will you sleep at night?" - "Next to my wife" lines. Odysseus knew he could be the most horrendous man ever and Penelope would still choose his side, that just show how powerful their love and faith in each other are.

But not enough to excuse all the terrible cinematic choices.

[makeyoumine69]

Last Memory (Memory Reboot x5)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Some time after Patrick and Evelyn got married, Bateman thought he could live a normal life and finally forget about you, but he didn't realize that he was already starting to lose his grip on reality, slowly but surely.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW, Patrick's POV, angst, lots of sex, canon violence, blood, near-death experiences, dark themes, obsession, strong hallucinations, blowjobs, pussy eating, rough vaginal and anal sex, cum eating, tainted love vibes, drug use, depressing thoughts and intentions, blackout and fainting, rough choking, spanking, masturbation, cheating, dirty talk and slurs, pet names, degradation kink, self-harm and panic attacks implied, unstable Patrick is a warning himself, I might have forgotten something because this chapter is long af, so forgive me if I really did.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 15k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: VØJ, Narvent—Last Memory; Timecop1983—Back to You

ᴀ/ɴ: Hello dear readers, I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I just wanted to make this chapter as good as possible! After several rewrites, I think I am finally happy with the result. I'm very sad that Memory Reboot will end in the next update, but I hope you enjoy this angsty story! Also, there are some easter eggs in this chapter, so be on the lookout! And please be aware that there is a lot of trigger material in this chapter, so be careful! Thank you so much for sticking with me, you are all incredible!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]

An annoying, sonorous alarm sound woke me up and I had to hit it with my fist, almost breaking it, to make it fucking stop. Yawning, I sat on the bed and realized that I was still in Evelyn's apartment; these cream-colored sheets made me want to cry from how much I hate them, but instead of ripping them off, I stretched my arms. The tension in my body, coursing from my shoulders down to my groin, was an eloquent sign that I needed release. With a loud groan, I stood up and briefly grabbed my dick through my white underwear, which seemed to have been hard all night since that bitch Evelyn, who was my wife by the way, refused to have sex again. It was the second time in a row. Sliding my messy hair back, I walked into the living room and noticed that Evelyn had already left. I sighed with relief that I didn't have to see her irritated face since I was already on the verge of going nuts.    

In the kitchen, I took the bottle of Evian from the fridge and made a long gulp before checking the time on my Rolex, frowning right away as I remembered Evelyn yapping about me always keeping them on, even when I went to bed. 

God, why can't women have their mouths shut sometimes?

With a wry grin, I placed the bottle on the counter and paused for a moment to check my reflection in the gleaming metal door of the refrigerator. Today’s day in the office was going to be tough as hell since I had a fuck ton of stupid meetings I tried to convince Jean to cancel, but she reassured me that it would be too rude to ignore my business partners for too long. Hmmph…

A bit later, when I was almost finishing my work out, I suddenly realized that it had already been two months since me and Evelyn got married. And no, I couldn’t really believe this since all days were like one long day—a day that seemed to never end. Huffing, I did another push-up, the 50th in a row, feeling not tired at all. Small beads of sweat rolled down my tensed forehead and I could care less about brushing them off as I was so focused on the pleasant feeling of my muscles flexing each time my chest almost touched the mat. Normally, sports could easily help me to distract myself, to let off steam, to feel refreshed and clear-headed, but now I was more detached from reality than ever before. And it seemed that no amount of exercise could help. Also, my condition was aggravated by the lack of sex, proper sex. When my muscles finally began to hurt, I stopped doing everything and just lay on the mat, panting and looking at the ceiling above. Then, I slowly looked down at my groin—still hard as rock–before my hand involuntarily grabbed it, eliciting a small gasp to fall from my wet lips. Fuck, I was about to explode from my own touch. That was not normal at all. It was pathetic.

Frustrated, I was certain that even a quick release in the shower wouldn’t soothe my mounting tension. It never did, considering that over the past few days I couldn’t even sleep, and what was worse was that even violence couldn’t bring me this much-needed relief. As I made my way to the bathroom, I was thinking, literally drowning in my obsessive thoughts.

I need more…I really need to get this done. I REALLY NEED IT! I NEED THEM!

 I bit my lip and turned on the shower, then got rid of my white boxers, stepped out of them, and strided on the cold marble. The water washed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes and let the steam splash along my flushed face. My skin felt like it was on fire, as if I were about to crash into the sun. I couldn't find any way to relax. I felt desperate and angry. I was pretty mad, too. But would killing you have helped me find peace? 

If I knew you were gone, if no one could ever be with you the way I was, would that be what I wanted?

 I let out a deep, exhausted sigh and pressed my forehead against the wet tiles, ignoring the way the tip of my cock brushed against the wall, sending tingles into my very core. The images of you covered in blood, trapped beneath me, almost sent me over the edge. I didn't let myself think about it for too long, though, because I knew it would lead to addiction. As if I weren't already hooked. My breathing got a little uneven, and I started scratching at the white tiles as I got hit by a sudden, intense rush of memories. I remembered your voice, your moans, and the way you screamed my name. I wanted to ruin you, to make you bleed, to tear you apart and leave you just like you left me. The pain you caused was so deep, it lingered. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't realize what I was doing. I let my hand rest on my throbbing length while the fingers of my other hand slid down my lower back, right between my legs. The moment I touched my tensed asshole, I moaned. I was loud and needy. I was embarrassed but also aroused. I thrust into my hand, slowly at first but gradually losing control, while my digit slid inside my ass completely with ease. I couldn't hold back my whimpers as I was about to cum. My vision was filled with blood, intensifying my fantasies about you. With my eyes closed, I was on the brink of losing it when I suddenly heard some commotion coming from behind the bathroom door. 

"Damn!" I groaned and hit the wall in front of me, my dick pulsing even after I let go of it.

"Honey," Evelyn's voice echoed through the bathroom. I turned to see her casually walking to the shower, her blue eyes curiously examining my bare frame as if she was seeing me like this for the first time. "You didn't close the door."

Fuck, I really didn't.

Scrunching my nose, I pushed my wet hair back and spun around completely, giving her the full view of my nakedness. "I thought I'd leave before you got back..." my reply was brash and sharp. "...at least I hoped so."

Evelyn didn't react, she just stood in front of the shower, blinking and staring at me—at the way the water flowed down my sculpted body, to be exact—and something told me that just watching wasn't going to be enough for her.

"So... are you just going to stay and watch?" I said aloud before opening the glass door and letting some steam out of the shower. 

The blonde grinned broadly but remained motionless. "You're not trying to bait me like that, are you?" 

Jesus Christ, this woman is really driving me crazy.

Irritated, still struggling with my boner, I wanted to drag her into the shower without even asking and make her freshly bought Chanel suit so fucking shitty that she would definitely throw a tantrum, but I managed to control myself.

Leaning against the wet glass, I watched her unclasp her jewels, gems that shone in the dim bathroom light, my hands instinctively slipping down to my aching cock as I was now the one watching Evelyn take off her jacket, the delicate shape of her collarbones forcing me to admit that my wife was, after all, absolutely gorgeous and even though I didn't feel anything... sublime towards her, I couldn't deny that every time she did things like that, she stirred up a burning desire in me.

"What if I do?" My voice dropped lower from the tension building at the base of my spine. "You'll find another stupid excuse to deny me, like you always do?" I gave myself a slow stroke, biting my lips and quickly licking them as Evelyn removed her blouse and placed her leg on the edge of the tub, pulling up her skirt so I could see her black stockings. "Why didn't you go for Bryce when you had the chance?"

My body stopped listening to me as I said these words, as if I was hypnotized, but I felt no remorse, only a pang of conscience for how pathetic I probably was right now, standing in the shower jacking off to the woman I didn't really love, who was probably having an affair with my best friend all this time as a bonus.

"And you're bringing up Bryce again," Evelyn murmured, grinning like a vixen, her hands working meticulously to remove her stockings, stopping only when she was done with her expensive clothes, leaving herself only in a white Vanity Fair lingerie I'd bought her a few days ago to stop her hysteria. "Why is this only bothering you now...after we got married?"

"W-what?" I almost choked on my breath, my hand around my cock stalled in its momentum. "What are you talking about? It...it never bothered me."

Still, her words struck a chord within me and now I was even more angry with myself than before. Evelyn obviously thought she was in control of this situation—her extra confident demeanor, the way she moved and talked, even her blue eyes looked different now, as a wicked spark glinted in them. 

For a fleeting moment, I just stood there, trying to lose myself in the warm streams of water, not really knowing what to say, and a suffocating panic crept into my chest, but then, as I found myself gripping the glass shower door with all the force I could muster so that it wouldn't shatter, my vision blurred for a second before I noticed Evelyn's slender body pressed against the glass, her small but pretty breasts looking so damn inviting that I couldn't hold back a groan.

"What were you saying?" She asked indifferently, the water gurgling mixing with her voice inside my head pulling me into a trance.

"Nothing," I replied, leaning forward and pressing myself against the glass door from the opposite side, my dick brushing against it ever so slightly, but even this mere contact made me close my eyes for a dear moment. "I said nothing..." my eyes darkened, pupils dilated. "Now...get in...will you?" I grinned and tilted my head, watching my wife flutter her thick eyelashes like bird wings.

Evelyn didn't answer, standing still with her body pressed against the shower door, and I couldn't hold back anymore—I just dragged her in, not caring about her expensive lingerie getting soggy—I'd buy her a new one if I had to. With a surprised squeal, she then giggled as the streams of water ran down her fit body, her elegant fingers stroking my cheek for a fleeting moment before I picked her up and turned her around to press her against the cool marble wall. Evelyn's gasp echoed through the bathroom, sending a shiver down my spine, as if I were really into her, into all of this, and if that was not me imagining you in her place, if that was not making me want to be somewhere else right now.

Somewhere where nobody could find me. Us. 

"Patrick," Evelyn's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Can you hear me? The water's too hot..."

"Too hot?" I repeated, finding her statement so funny for no reason, but I cooled the water with my free hand anyway, still holding Evelyn in my arms as if she weighed nothing. "I'd say something like..."

"It's not the water that's making it hot, it's me," she cut me off, her face turning into a serious grimace, and for a second I felt like I was going to lose my shit. Is she making fun of me? "I've heard that enough, honey."

Frowning at that fucking nickname I really hated, I noticed the way she was pressing on my shoulders, implying that she wanted me to get her down on the floor, and I did—I didn't want to think, I didn't want to guess what was going through her mind—I just wanted to follow. To feel at least something beyond hatred and disgust. But I guess that was too much to ask.

Without saying a word, I knelt before Evelyn, leveled myself with her perfectly waxed pubic area, her breath hitching as I planted a soft kiss on her mound before tracing a finger along her wet from the water folds through the absolutely drenched fabric of her panties, which were now clinging to her like a second skin. I looked up at her with a mischievous grin, the water hitting my eyes painfully, but I held on to watch that raw need emanating from her body—savoring it like a vampire thirsty for blood.

My actions were smooth, calculated. When I got rid of her damp lingerie, I let the wet clothes that were now spread out on the shower floor fall to the ground, forgotten, and I was sure that Evelyn would have to throw them in a garbage can when we were done. The involuntary arch of her back, her hips brushing against my face and the moan she let out when the tip of my tongue flicked around her feverish clit, that was something I could live with. 

Letting Evelyn grind against my face, I began to eat her pussy more feverishly, my one hand holding her open while another was wrapped tightly around my hard dick as I jerked off in sync with my oral ministrations. It was actually a turn-on, but only because I managed to block out all thoughts of you... In another situation they would have helped me to orgasm, but now... now they would only destroy everything. 

I groaned when Evelyn pulled my hair harder than I liked, but I didn't want to punish her for it, not now, because I was still going to fuck her and this would be a perfect moment to show her how I felt and what I really needed. But then again, all of this made me feel pathetic in some odd, twisted way, that I was a starved dog who had to struggle to find barely any food to survive—what was my life—I was not living, I was surviving.

"Yes...yes...just like that," Evelen keened again as I tongue fucked her flushed cunt. "Keep...g-going..."

I could feel that she was so close to collapsing, it was kind of amusing how fast I could always make her cum, if only she knew that I always did it for myself, not for her, but for me. "Cum around my face," I spat out, my overalls buzzing from the tensind at the base of my cock; these little tingles were going to make me explode, but I didn't hesitate, increasing the pace of my own stroking. "Let it go. Now!"

My voice was muffled, gruff, I was sure its vibration only added to the overwhelming rush of bliss that was about to descend upon my wife as her legs began to tremble, her thigh on my shoulder jerking as I dipped my tongue inside her while my thumb caressed her oversensitive bud. And then she climaxed, convulsing and barely holding herself from screaming, I watched as she silenced herself with her palm, her eyes closed tightly, I reveled in such reactions, I always had, so I didn't stop as I wanted to prolong this scene—a scene full of fake emotions and this was just an echo of something I had experienced and lost— because if I stopped, I would fucking die.

Maybe this is what I always needed? Just to...stop existing?

Panting, I finally moved away from her hot, now swollen cleft, my own heart pounding so fast, but I couldn't move, I just stayed on my knees, the water falling on me like a heavy rain from that day I followed you to the airport and watched the plane take you away from me. For the second fucking time in a row.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was slowly coming down from her high, her chest heaving and falling so fast that for a moment I thought she was going to pass out, but then she turned and leaned against the wall, swaying her hips in the most inviting gesture I'd ever seen her make.

"Shit," I murmured almost imperceptibly, my basic instincts finally taking over. "You want me to fuck you?"

Gasping, she nodded and craned her neck to look back at me, I quickly stood and hugged her from behind, my lips tracing a short trail of kisses along her shoulder as I aligned myself with her entrance, she was so aroused and ready for me that I felt no resistance as I pushed myself into her malleable body. Just a few fleeting seconds for both of us to adjust before my pace picked up, the sound of wet flesh against flesh filling the room, and I pressed closer to Evelyn, her high-pitched moans fading in my delusions as I gave in—the images of you were so clear in my mind now that I clenched my teeth to hold back my own moans—I was weak and I hated myself for it.

Luckily Evelyn was on the pill so I didn't have to worry about a sudden pregnancy, but there was still some fear I tried desperately to ignore, my thrusts became ragged, raw and deep, I was about to spill myself inside her, both palms cupping her breasts, rubbing soft mounds, but then I squeezed them quite roughly and Evelyn's loud whimper was a sheer testament to my ferocity. Feeling my whole system shatter, I managed to stop myself from sinking my teeth into her neck as my vision turned white as I reached my peak with your name on my lips, though I never let myself say it out loud.

A little later that morning, as I dressed in my freshly tailored dark charcoal flannel double-breasted suit with wide white pinstripes, the sun was high in the zenith and its rays bathed Evelyn's bedroom in a soft golden hue. This brief encounter of intimacy with my wife gave me some hope that maybe there was still a chance to live a normal life, the one my mother and father always wanted for me, the American dream family they always told me about, but my parents never really tried to understand me, but since Sean chose a different path in life, not the RIGHT one, the legacy of my family fell on my shoulders.

Trapped in my thoughts, I didn't even notice the phone ringing somewhere next to me, I turned around to see a small black phone on the nightstand. At first I decided to ignore it, since I didn't really care about Evelyn's business, I didn't care at all, but this time something inside of me started to sting.

Who can call her at this hour?

With a soft click of my tongue, I finished adjusting my cufflinks and looked back at the buzzing phone, deciding to pick it up and find out who the hell was calling my wife. "Yes? Who's this?"

"Hello, Patrick," your voice crawled into my brain like a parasite, I swallowed, my skin covered in goosebumps and I sweated almost instantly. "How's it going? Don't you think it's a bit pathetic to think of me when you're banging your lovely wife?"

"You?" Was the only thing I managed to say. "Where did you get this number?"

I heard you laughing as if you were right next to me. "Tim gave it to me," you replied with blatant audacity. "Uh...you're not happy to hear me? That's a shame because I thought you missed me."

"Listen," I spat into the phone, gripping it so tightly that it was about to break in a half in my hand. "I don't know who you think you are...but believe me when I say I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR FUCKING LIFE! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Patrick? Who are you talking to?" I turned to see Evelyn standing in the doorway, her blue eyes full of concern.

Caught red-handed, I took the phone away from my ear and chuckled. "It's just...a random call...nothing serious." When I said that, her face became even more worried. "Is something wrong, darling?"

Evelyn blinked several times before answering. "I definitely remember turning off the phone before I went to sleep...I always do..."

Her words hung in the air for some time before I could actually continue, and when I finally did, I tugged at my collar from the sudden lack of oxygen in my lungs.

What the fuck?

Under Evelyn's attentive gaze, I looked up at the receiver as if seeing it for the first time in my life, then I pressed it to my ear again and all I heard was silence—a deafening, eerie silence—even a single beep could not be discerned. My throat tightened uncomfortably and I felt like throwing up from the tight knot in my stomach, for I'd never felt such fear before.

"Patrick...are you okay?" The blonde woman asked, not daring to come closer. "Are you taking the medicine your psychiatrist prescribed you..."

"Evelyn!"

"No, I'm serious! This isn't funny Patrick, I'm scared," she suddenly confessed and I swore I couldn't remember seeing her so worried. "You need help...why don't you let people help you?"

With that Evelyn stormed out of the bedroom and I was sure she was crying. Damn women, never give you a chance to explain yourself. I cursed before slamming the phone down on its station with a thud, probably shattering the plastic, but who fucking cared? All they cared about was whether I was taking those fucking pills, but no one really cared about...me. 

It took me some time to calm down and finally go to work. I didn't talk to Evelyn before I left, as it was pointless in her current state. As soon as I was outside, I breathed in the fresh air and watched the passers-by walking here and there without even noticing each other, this scene I saw every day, I picked out my Walkman like in a slow motion movie, put the headphones on my head and then attached it to my belt, the next moment I heard Madonna's deep voice surging through my head.

The taxi ride to the Pierce & Pierce office took longer than usual because of the heavy traffic. When I finally entered the high-rise building, I didn't take off my headphones because I didn't really want to talk to anyone, I just walked through the long corridors like a ghost without a name. It was really interesting that I never really thought about my fucking coworkers constantly messing up my name—they didn't know who I was even though we met every week—but you—you remembered it so clearly, there wasn't a single day that you mistook me for someone else. Jean greeted me as always with her sweet smile. Today she wore a dress and high heels. I smiled at such details and pulled up my headphones so I could hear her. 

"Did I miss anything?" I asked casually, thinking I was late as I often was.

Brushing her blonde hair, my secretary rose from her seat, clutching her favorite notebook to her chest. "Timothy Bryce called to ask about lunch."

My eyebrows raised in skepticism at her words.

Bryce. Wants to see me after not talking to me for almost a week. Interesting.

"Uh, right, but I thought I had a pretty busy schedule today?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Well, yeah," she quickly opened her notebook and then raised her bright eyes to me. "But you have a little window..."

At some point, Jean's voice became as much white noise as Madonna's song, the lyrics of which slipped away from me like a leaf in the wind. The thought of Tim finally revealing that he and Evelyn were having an affair behind my back, as if they really thought I could be stupid enough not to notice, brought me a strange sense of relief. It was like an itchy splinter in your finger that you couldn't bring yourself to pull out, but you knew that the longer it stayed there, the worse it would get.

"Okay, Jean," I heaved abruptly. "Be a doll and make a rez in a good place. Then call Bryce back."

Jean was noticeably confused, but I was too overwhelmed with my own chaotic thoughts that there was no room for anything else. With a devoted nod, she returned to her seat and I opened the door to my office, where everything was the same, all things in the places I had left them. At least there seemed to be something constant in my life.

The rustling of chatter and the clinking of silverware against plates mingled in a wild cacophony of sounds I was quite familiar with—I was born in the middle of this madness, to say the least, the lush life of people like me was something you couldn't really avoid, though I never tried to avoid it, I enjoyed every little benefit I got from being rich. 

So now I was sitting in Delmonico's lash interior, holding a glass of J&B on rocks in one hand and a cigar in the other. I waited for Bryce to come and soon I noticed his approaching figure, his black hair slicked back as usual, and I even chuckled at how fucking punctilious this man always was. Tim ordered a glass of Russian vodka and some seafood appetizers. After a short casual conversation we both fell silent and just when I was expecting him to tell me the reason why he wanted to see me, he suddenly picked up a shiny cardholder and put it on the table, then took out a pack of cigarettes to grab one.

"New cardholder?" I asked, definitely remembering that Bryce used to have a different one. "Looks...nice."

"It's platinum," Timothy commented before lighting his cigarette, his gray eyes scanning the room before focusing on me. "It's a gift...from our mutual friend."

Friend?

I almost bit the inside of my cheek to the point of bleeding. "Really?"

Bryce let out a puff of smoke and pointed to my empty glass. "I heard you quit drinking," he grinned and dabbed the ash from his cigarette. "That you're on... some medication."

"I wonder who told you that," my jaw almost snapped in anger, I had to claw at my knee to regain some composure. "And yes, I had to take medication for a while...but I'm on a break now." I hoped he could tell by the tone of my voice that I wasn't going to continue this conversation. "Who else would know how it works better than you since you went through rehab. Am I right, Bryce?"

I knew how much he hated talking about it, so his recent bravado faded like a cloud of smoke, but his cheeky grin never left his face.

"I get it, I get it," he laughed softly before sipping his drink. "You definitely got off on the wrong foot today, but it's okay," the man swirled his glass in his hand, watching the ice cubes clink against its walls. "I just wanted to tell you that... you're definitely missing something. Or maybe I should say—someone."

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side. "Maybe you can tell me something more...specific, or are we going to play that crappy guessing game?"

Bryce shifted in his seat and wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by two familiar voices—Craig and David.

Shit, why did those two idiots have to come right now?

The moment was ruined, and so was I.

"Wow, I can't believe my eyes! See, I told you they had a date," McDermott let out a loud chuckle, my fists clenched, and if we were somewhere else, preferably alone, I'd fucking break my glass against his smug face. "I called Jean and she said you two were having lunch together. Isn't that sweet?"

"Oh, fuck you, McDermott!" Bryce retorted, but he wasn't really angry. "Fuck you and your cheap jokes. Your sense of humor is as flat as the ass of that chick you met in the Tunnel yesterday. Besides, how was she?"

The Tunnel, that damn club that started all this shit. I closed my eyes and tried to shake off the unwelcome memories of that day, but all I wanted to do was leave this place. Bryce's words became a breaking point, they helped a cup of weights to turn to another side without him even knowing it. Slowly I rose from the table, ignoring any questions, dismissing them with a clumsy gesture.

This evening was destined to be spent in the Tunnel after everything that happened today. I didn't tell anyone about my spontaneous venture to find some escape in the nightclub full of drug-addicted chicks and yuppies like me. My mind was racing with the idea of doing some coke, all I had to do was find the dealer that Bryce and I always hang out with and get a gram. A very simple plan to forget about all the shit that was going on in my life for a while.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say.

As I strolled across the dance floor, I noticed the bar was pretty empty, so I decided to have a drink before finding the dealer, as the glass of whiskey I had at lunch was not enough. The bartender greeted me with a polite smile as he cleaned the bar. 

"Good evening, sir," the man took a shiny glass and set it in front of me. "What would you like to drink?"

"A J&B straight and a Corona." I replied, taking a seat and fumbling for my wallet.

The bartender nodded and went to get my drinks. While I waited, I looked around when I noticed the only person sitting at the bar—it turned out to be a redheaded girl, a very good looking one—I hummed to myself, absolutely sure that such a girl was definitely not alone tonight. 

"Your drinks, sir." The bartender placed an open bottle of Corona next to my glass, now filled with my favorite whiskey.

"Thank you." I handed him a few bills before he could even tell me how much I had to pay. 

The young man babbled something incoherent that I couldn't even make out, but after I gave him a dead stare, he just took the money and finally left me alone. Annoyed, I checked the time on my Rolex before grabbing a bottle of Corona to take a sip, but I was interrupted again. This time not by the bartender.

"Hey," a soft female voice hung over my ear, sending a massive wave of excitement through me. I turned to see that the chick from the other end of the bar was now standing so close to me that I could smell her flowery perfume. "Are you here alone?"

I wish I could say that, but my thoughts of you were always here, with me, but instead of saying that bullshit, I nodded and grinned, checking her body in the most humiliating way, thinking it would scare her away from me, but the gleam in her green eyes only increased after my move.

God, she doesn't know what she's asking for.

"Yeah, you could say that." I smiled again as she sat down next to me. "What about you?"

The girl leaned against the bar, her ginger hair cascading down her elegant shoulders, and for a moment I couldn't take my eyes off her. "I wasn't supposed to be alone tonight, but...you know how it is...most men are total jerks."

I could barely keep myself from bursting out laughing. "Did someone offend you?" She played with the gold bracelet on her wrist and nodded shyly, a move I suddenly found very sexy. "Do you mind if I get you a drink?"

"First, tell me your name," she muttered in a challenging way—a blatant provocation that I ate like a starved man. "Then I'll think about it."

This girl is so sweet, I bet her insides are the same.

At first I wanted to use a fake name, like I always did, but then I just gave her my real name, because in the end it would make no difference. "Patrick....Patrick Bateman," I finally took a sip of Corona and savored the taste. "And you?"

"Nicole," the girl said, still fiddling with her jewelry. "But I used to have a lot of different names."

"I like this one," I chuckled, smiling charmingly. "It suits a girl like you."

"A girl like me?"

"A beautiful girl...very beautiful I must say." My voice was deep and soft like silk, I noticed the way she straightened her shoulders, slowly but gradually relaxing. 

"You really think so?" She asked me, her eyes roaming over my mischievous face, then down to my lips.

Instead of answering, I just smiled in the most enchanting way possible before calling for the bartender to order her a drink. Nicole and I talked for a while—she told me she was from Canada and didn't really have any friends in New York—it was strangely satisfying but I tried to be sympathetic and supportive even though my mind was so far away from here. The ginger girl didn't even notice how she finished one cocktail and then another, while I didn't even touch my whiskey, just idly sipped my bottle of Corona because for some reason I wanted to be as sober as possible.

As the club was getting more and more empty, Nicole was ready to give me a blowjob right at the bar, but I convinced her to go to my place and to be honest, I didn't expect it to be that easy since I hadn't really planned anything like that. I forgot about the drug dealer because now I had to worry about what I was going to say to Evelyn tomorrow because I was definitely not going to spend the night with her. 

"Patrick..." Nicole nestled into my side as we sat in the cab. "Did I tell you I know...F-French?"

I crossed my arms and shook my head in dismay. "No, you didn't," I said, looking down at her red, messy hair. "But it's nothing special...you're from Canada and French is your second official language."

Nicole let out a cartoonish giggle that made me cringe. "Oh...you know it? Damn, you're such a smart man...Mr. Bateman...so fucking smart...most guys I've slept with....didn't know that..." she giggled again and tried to pinch my nose, but I shooed her away. "Can you believe that?"

At a certain point, I was even starting to regret bringing her along, but I hoped I'd be able to shut her mouth with something...sharp and maybe deadly. "It happens, Nicole. Like you said, there were so many bad people in this town. Fortunately, you're lucky to have met someone like me."

The girl hugged me at my words, I could feel her drunk breath next to my lips, but instead of turning away I let her kiss me and it felt better than I expected. Soon the cab pulled up to the American Gardens Building. The walk up to my apartment didn't take much time, I was already thinking about how I was going to dispose of her body after I was done with her. Nicole, completely unaware of my dark thoughts, walked around my apartment barefoot as she kicked off her shoes, complaining about how fucking uncomfortable they were.

"Oh, this place is so fucking...c-cool!" She managed to say, swaying from side to side while moving. "Jesus, is that a telescope? Why do you even need that?" Nicole giggled like a child seeing one for the first time, but who knew, maybe she really was seeing it for the first time. "Do you... spy on people with that... thing?"

"No, Nicole." I replied curtly, standing next to her with my hands hidden in the pockets of my tailored pants. 

"Are you...an astronaut...from NASA?" She asked, then winced when she finally noticed my looming figure. "Are you... going to send me to the moon tonight, handsome?"

"I'll do more than that," I crooned, placing my hand on her waist and pulling her closer. "But I must say one thing you may not like..." a short pause, then a soft rumble left my throat. "I prefer that beautiful mouth of yours to be closed. Do you understand?"

I was expecting anything other than this bitch dropping to her knees and immediately working on unbuckling my belt. The way she was behaving was both amusing and enticing, but what I enjoyed most was that she was so naive and completely dumb.

"Look at you," I murmured before grabbing a handful of her ginger curls that were blocking her vision. "So inpatient, huh?"

By the time she managed to undo my pants, I was already so hard that my dick sprang out of the confines of my clothes and almost slapped her face, but it didn't bother her at all—I could only see an uncontrollable desire in those big green eyes that were now looking at me as if asking for my permission. 

Shameless, pathetic whore.

With a practiced move, I grabbed the back of her head to pull her closer to my crotch, then pressed my engorged dick against her lips, sliding it along them and making her lick off my pre-cum. "Yeah," I croaked, biting my own lips. "I definitely like you more like this...open your mouth, bitch."

Nicole obeyed and the next thing I knew I was thrusting into her mouth, her warmth welcoming me and making me grunt as I bucked my hips into her face, pushing myself further until I heard her gag around my shaft.

"'C'mon, choke on my dick," I snarled, pulling on her hair with brutal force, her nose rubbing against my pubis and I snaked my hand down to rest on her throat, wanting to feel my cock slide along it. "I'm sure no one has ever face fucked you like that...am I right, honey?"

I used that ugly nickname Evelyn always gave me and pulled myself out of her mouth to hear her answer, but she just gulped desperately for air and grabbed my legs for any semblance of support. 

"Oh-Christ...you're...s-so fucking big," she wept, trying to wipe the liquid mixture off her chin, but I wouldn't let her, pulling her head back. "Shit...you're really one of those guys...who likes it rough?"

With a devilish smile, I gave myself several quick strokes before answering. "Oh, darling. You can't even imagine how MUCH I like that kind of thing."

Panting, Nicole was not ready for me to invade her mouth again, but I didn't care, just as I ignored her little protest when I fucked her throat and felt the curve of my dick slide into her wet, tight channel. It was a bliss I had always sought, that fleeting moment of raw control over another human, once you tasted it you couldn't stop yourself.

Perfection.

As time passed, I came at least twice in her abused mouth, each time making sure she swallowed every drop, but then I got bored of fucking her face and left her sprawled out on my expensive living room floor, which I would definitely have to call the maid service to clean. Barely alive, Nicole literally vomited my sperm mixed with her blood, her plump lips swollen and bruised from my beatings—I couldn't stress her pathetic whimpering anymore, so I had to act—but she would last a while longer, I was sure of it.

As I rummaged through my stuff in the bedroom to get a condom, Nicole's pathetic whimpering was like music to my ears, but at some point I considered turning on some real music to muffle the girl's screams, although to my surprise she was not that loud. But just in case, I returned to the living room and stepped over Nicole, who was still lying on the floor, to get to my stereo and put on the latest Talking Heads album, True Stories.

"I didn't ask you what kind of music you like," I suddenly chuckled and moved closer to the sobbing girl to crouch down beside her. "But I doubt it would change anything."

After that, I stood up and decided to strip completely, every move I made calculated and mastered to perfection. One second, two seconds....ten seconds and I was almost naked, when the only thing left on me was my gold Rolex, I heard her weak, shaky voice:

"Whitney Houston," she murmured, barely audible. "I love Whitney Houston."

I stopped in my tracks. "Oh...really? What is your favorite song?"

My lips were curled in a smile that came dangerously close to something insane as I carefully placed all my clothes on one of my black chairs before picking up the girl and moving her to the window—away from my white couch that I didn't want to stain with her fucking blood. She didn't struggle, she didn't struggle at all as I positioned her against the window, pressing her bruised face against the cold glass.

"Take Good Care of My Heart," the redhead added as I began to poke at her soaked pussy, which was not shaved like most of the girls I used to have, and to be honest, I really liked it. "I...I really love the whole album."

"Oh yeah," I chuckled into her ear, fixing her in place as the tip of my cock plunged into her, causing her legs to shake. "This is such a good album..."

With that I bottomed her out completely, my balls slapping against her ass, red from my spanking, I thought I could see the outline of my hand. Her little cunt felt no worse than her mouth, but it was not as tight...after being with you, nothing seemed tight enough to me.

Fuck it!

Cursing under my breath, I sped up to pound into her as hard as I could. Thank God the glass didn't break, but I changed our position anyway. Now Nicole was bent over my black leather chair, her ass wiggling every time I thrust into her and I couldn't stop myself from spanking her, I wanted her to fucking scream and cry out in pain but all I could get from her was nothing that could signal that she was in pain. On the contrary, this girl seemed to enjoy it so much, as her hips moved in rhythm with mine, she bucked in my direction to meet my movements.

"Shit, you fuck like a whore," I blurted out, grabbing her hair in a self-made ponytail. "Is that why you came to America? To be a fucktoy for men like me?"

"Mmm...f-fuck me...please...fuck me!" Nicole didn't seem to hear me, I had to squeeze her throat to shut her up. "Ye-yes...fucking...c-choke me...please!"

Stupid bitch.

In one swift motion, I pulled out only to slam into her unprepared asshole, making her scream in pain and fuck, she sounded amazing. Quickly wiping the sweat from my forehead, I pushed her down on my cock, noticing the crimson drops of her blood on my dick, which only spurred me to move faster and more ferociously. This bitch didn't see it coming, but she was still pretty obedient, which started to seem pretty weird to me, because usually by this time women start to panic, fight and try to escape, but this fucking hoe didn't even say a word about the way I was treating her.

And that started to disappoint me.

When I thought I was not going to climax, I closed my eyes and let my imagination take control of my brain. Huffing, I rammed into Nicole harder, fantasizing about you—how we could go 69, your fingers buried deep inside my asshole - I could fucking feel the sensation of them and it sent an electric shock right through my tensed sac.

"Oh, fuck," I gripped her waist with both hands, fucking her with pure abandon. "You...fucking...arrogant prick...I hate you! I hate you s-so fucking much!"

All my curses fell on deaf ears as Nicole only whimpered in response, gripping the back of the chair and the next second I found her cumming around my cock, her inner walls spasming around me, triggering my own orgasm.

 When I was finally finished with her, I stood over her trembling body as she lay on the floor again. The girl was shaking and giggling, I thought she probably lost her mind already, so instead of using a knife or something, I decided to just strangle her with my bare hands. I wanted to see life slowly leave her body. I fucking craved it.

"Nicole," I shook her before getting on top of her, pressing her down with the weight of my muscular body. "Look at me."

Nicole's bloodshot eyes couldn't focus on mine for some time, she was stunned, dazed, ruined and intoxicated, I had to slap her face several times before she finally locked her hazy gaze with mine. The sweet anticipation of the kill enveloped my mind, my cock grew hard again as I placed both hands around her fragile neck, I began to squeeze it, lightly at first but then more and more forcefully.

"You made a big mistake coming to America, Nicole." I let out a taunt, not really expecting her to hear it or respond to it.

Everything was going according to plan when she suddenly smiled and covered my hands, not to take them off, but to stroke them with a wicked... attraction?

"Please...kill me already...I beg you..." She couldn't stop herself from crying and laughing. 

This was a psychotic episode I had experienced so many times, but I never expected to see it with my own eyes. I froze in shock, losing my grip, and as I did, Nicole pulled my hands back to her throat, shaking me as if to wake me up.

"No, no, no, no! Please...don't stop...please...I want to die! Patrick, please...set me free!" Nicole's voice cracked and I could finally see the sheer desperation in her green eyes, but this kind of desperation was different. 

This wasn't the kind of despair I'd seen before...this was something completely different. It was kind of a turn-off for me. The whole evening was fucking ruined, I couldn't believe it. Shaking my head, I stood up and stepped away from her as if from a fire. 

"Patrick...please!"

"Shut up!" I yelled, looking down at my own hands—they were shaking so badly. "Shut the fuck up!"

In a panic, I rushed to the bathroom to wash my hands for who knows what reason, then grabbed my robe and put it on. I couldn't really explain what was happening to me, but when I got back to the living room, I picked up Nicole's clothes and threw them at her.

"Get dressed," I ordered, and then I went into the bedroom to unlock my safe and take out several bundles of money. What was I doing? Panting, I paused in the doorway to watch her get dressed, then walked over to her and handed her the money. "I want you to take this, go to a hospital and get back to Canada. Do you hear me, Nicole?"

The redhead was silent, just looking at me with her pleading eyes. "But I don't want to go..."

"You have to." I emphasized the words by lowering my voice. "Just do what I say and everything should be... okay."

"But I don't want it to be okay." Nicole tried to touch me, but I pulled away.

"Just go," I repeated my previous words, this time in a more serious voice. "And never come back."

I spent the rest of the night sitting in the shower, literally sitting on the floor, crying. A lot. My eyes were so red and puffy that I didn't know which ice mask would help me look normal tomorrow. The hatred of myself that rose from my chest to my cheeks and made me nauseous—I hated myself so much that I finally admitted that I had changed—you had changed me and there was no going back. The man I was before died, now I was just an empty being, or maybe a new man had been born in my shallow soul?

When I finally managed to drag my ass out of the bathroom, the phone rang and I was sure it was Evelyn trying to fuck my brain for not coming back to her apartment and to be fair, I wasn't ready for anything like that at that moment, but considering how much of a pain in the ass she was, I didn't want any more consequences if I didn't pick up the fucking call.

As I walked into the bedroom, I took the phone from my nightstand and finally answered the call. "Yes?"

"Patrick! Jesus, I thought you weren't going to answer the call!" It was you, damn it, it was you.

My teeth almost creaked with anger and disbelief. "How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off?! Are you stalking me or what? How the fuck did you know I was in my apartment?"

"I... I didn't know... I just decided to try my luck and here we are," you replied, your voice was different than it sounded this morning. "Listen Patrick, I'm in New York right now...maybe we can see each other?"

"See each other?" Those words made me sick. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"I know that...things are pretty tense between us, but...maybe we can at least talk about it?"

"No, we can't," I clutched the phone as tightly as I could. "I don't want to see you and I don't want to hear you. Do you understand? If you ever call me again, I'll fucking find you and KILL YOU!"

With that, I dropped the phone on the floor and screamed so loudly that my throat began to hurt. Right now I was nothing but a living madness, the things that were happening in my mind were like an open chasm to hell—a place I'd be one day, I had no doubt about it.

The few days I spent in a dizzy state, I couldn't really remember what I was doing, but the only thing I was sure of was that I couldn't stop thinking about you. Also, I didn't kill anyone for lack of thrill, there was no more adrenaline or excitement—you changed me and now spilling some blood couldn't help me to relieve myself anymore. I felt like I was being shattered into pieces, decomposed into something primitive, for the first time I saw myself as being even more inhuman than I really was.

Inhuman.

What a perfect word to describe everything about me, but I still couldn't understand where I belonged? If not here, could there be a place for a creature like me?

This question was swirling around in my head like a brain worm; that damn rainy evening when I decided to stalk my dear wife. After my rather long absence, Evelyn was about to go to the police, but then I showed up at the door of her apartment at night, high as hell, but she didn't seem surprised at all. I expected her to be mad and angry, but instead she treated me really nice, I could hear her crying and her desperate touch when she hugged me, weeping and sobbing something about being so scared and worried about me and although I didn't believe a single word that came out of her mouth, something stirred inside of me.

The raindrops were falling on my umbrella like Morse code, hitting the surface with such a precise rhythm that I really thought maybe something or someone was trying to send me a sign. The level of absurdity was over the top, and if I were in a different state mentally and physically, I'd be laughing my ass off at this shit, but today I couldn't do anything funny. I couldn't smile, I couldn't sneer, I was like a ghost, a shadow of the person I was before I met you. So here I was, following Evelyn down the street after the taxi ride until I saw her stop at some hotel—a luxury hotel in Upper Manhattan to be exact— and then, after some time, when I thought nothing interesting would happen, a sleek black Cadillac stopped by the street and I saw Timothy Bryce get out of the car—he was holding a black umbrella just like me. Evelyn was so excited to see him that she didn't even wait for them to go inside the hotel, she kissed him now and then without holding back her emotions. This scene made the stone fall off my shoulders; I was so damn happy that I was right and that this fake marriage was about to collapse, but I still couldn't understand why Evelyn married me at all. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if one day, when we finally had a serious talk about it, she would confess that she loved both of us—me and Bryce— and suggested that we all live together.

Say hello to an altered version of the American dream family.

The reality was always cruel, and I knew it too well.

A loud clap of thunder echoed through my apartment, waking me up in my living room, drenched in sweat. Breathing heavily, I turned around to register some pornography playing on my TV, my robe was undone, I was completely naked underneath, some remnants of my cum stuck to my stomach.

Shit, I just blacked out jerking off? This porn really sucks.

And this was the 5th or maybe 10th porn tape I had watched, and I only managed to cum once. Cursing and scowling, I fidgeted on my couch to find a remote control. I was disgusted with my current situation, but then I noticed two thin lines of white powder on my glass coffee table and a twisted $100 bill. Now everything started to fall into place.

Fuck, where did I even get this gram?

I rubbed my head, and instead of turning off the porn, I turned it up louder—two perfect bimbos making out, their oiled bodies wrapped around each other like two snakes—my hand instinctively sliding back to my hard cock, throbbing and soaked with my cum.

"Oh-fuck..." I murmured through clenched teeth as I pumped myself, watching the girls play with their large breasts. "Yeah...suck her tits...suck them like a fucking pacifier..."

The louder their moaning got, the more excited I got, and just when I thought I was about to climax again, I heard... a fucking phone ringing loudly—it hurt my hearing. Confused, I stopped doing anything, ignoring the fact that one slut was now riding on the face of another. There was only one thing I could think about right now— had I turned off my phone or not? Because I definitely remembered pulling the fucking cords out of it, but that thing kept ringing? 

Slowly I got up on my stiff legs and walked to the kitchen island to grab the phone, the only light coming from my playing TV and I bumped into something pretty hard before the fucking receiver was in my hand.

"Patrick Bateman's apartment..." I almost whispered, pressing the receiver harder against my head.

"...Pat..." the echo of a familiar voice wailed from the other end of the line, but I still couldn't make out who it was. "...need... -h-help!"

"Who...am I talking to?"

"Patrick, please, help me," your voice sounded so clear now that it echoed inside my skull, drowning out all the sounds of the bad weather outside. "I'm...I'm at Paul Allen's...I need help...please...I think I'm gonna die..."

Was this some kind of prank? 

I turned around and scanned my apartment as if someone was watching me right now. I felt insane and cornered, if I was really losing my mind the best option now would be to take more coke and trigger an overdose and then...

"Can you hear me? Please, come here, I'll... give you the address..." and then I heard loud interference and noise, so I had to pull the phone away for a second. "Patrick? Please...talk to me!"

"What...what happened?" I asked, still not believing what I was doing. "Are you in pain?"

"No...yes....Patrick...listen...you should write down the address..."

Without thinking, I grabbed the Vogue magazine lying next to the phone and a pencil, and the next second I was writing down the address where Paul Allen was supposed to live. 

"Hold on! I'll be right there!" I suddenly said into the phone, but all I could hear was the agonizing beep. "Hey...I'll be there...do you hear me? I'LL BE THERE!"

Fuck!

I dropped the phone and took several deep breaths before I finally came to my senses, or so I thought. Then I rushed to the bathroom to clean up and put something on without worrying too much. So I grabbed the first suit out of my closet, fixed my hair and left my apartment to take a cab. All the way to Paul's, I was holding a crumpled page of Vogue that I had to rip out. At first I didn't even notice that I wasn't surprised when the cabbie just nodded and we drove off, so this address was real? It meant you really called me? And what about all the previous calls?

Perplexed, I leaned against the cool glass of the car window and watched the nighttime cityscape blur into something unrecognizable, almost falling asleep, but the driver turned on the radio with some cheesy pop songs that kept me awake, as I was too irritated to ignore how much I disliked such music. When the car stopped in front of a towering building like the one I lived in, I paid the driver twice what I was supposed to and got out of the cab. There were no pedestrians and for a moment I really thought that maybe I was still asleep and had to pinch myself to wake up in my living room?

As I entered the building I saw a table where the concierge should be sitting, but there was no one, so I casually opened the journal to find the number of Allen's apartment—I felt a creeping shock when I actually found his name in the journal.

Okay… this feels…too real.

Feeling a strange thrill of the rush, I closed the journal and sauntered quickly across the large lobby to the elevators. Paul's apartment was on the 15th floor, so when the door opened on the floor I needed, I stepped out of the elevator with a heavy weight in my chest. Every step I took resonated with the fast beating of my heart, and when I reached my destination, I didn't know what to do - whether to ring the bell or knock or…

Shaking myself off, I first rang the doorbell—nothing. Then I knocked several times, then again, still no answer. Finally, I put my ear to the door to listen, but I couldn't hear a single sound. Anger overcame me, so I kicked the door and turned to leave. How stupid was I? Maybe mixing my pills and coke wasn't the best idea, but this...

When I got back to the lobby, an old man, who must have been a missing concierge, greeted me with a fake polite smile. "Greetings, sir. How can I help you?"

Annoyed as hell, I stopped next to his small table, adjusted my leather gloves, and pointed to his journal. "I was looking for Paul Allen's apartment, he's my friend and I wanted to see him, but it seems...he's out tonight."

"Oh, Mr. Allen left on a business trip this morning." The concierge said casually, but then he noticed how pale I'd become. "Sir, is something wrong?"

"Did you say he left this morning?" I asked again, feeling a few beads of sweat on my tense forehead.

"Yes, sir," the old man opened the journal and began to leaf through it. "I can even tell you the exact time he left..."

"No need. Thank you." Was all I said before I turned on my heels and headed for the exit.

Outside I noticed that the taxi that had brought me here was still standing by the side of the road. It was strange but I didn't even think about it. I got in and asked the driver to take me back to my place, but first I asked him to give me a moment to sit and think. With shaking hands I picked up the crumpled piece of paper with the address on it, I traced my handwriting before throwing it out the window, my temples pounding so hard I thought my head would explode. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, not noticing that the concierge I was talking to literally ran out of the building, looking around, seeking someone.

"Let's go." I ordered the cab driver with my eyes still closed. "And can you please turn off the music...my head is killing me."

The taxi drove off and I didn't see or hear the old man following the car. "Sir, wait! I made a mistake about Mr. Allen-"

Today, after I refused to go shopping with Evelyn and help her choose a fucking curtain for her living room, she finally told me that she never loved me, that she wanted a divorce and nothing else from me. The relief I felt was comparable to a good orgasm, to say the least, Evelyn was shocked at my reaction—did she really expect me to beg for forgiveness? But the single mention of Bryce made everything come to its place, I wasn't angry, no, I just couldn't solve this fucking puzzle, what was all this for? If she really liked Bryce, why couldn't she just tell me and go for him? How many times had I told her that? A hundred? A thousand? Millions? Luckily, I wasn't inclined to leave my stuff in her apartment, so I finished my busing with 'moving out' pretty quickly and smoothly, because something glorious and important was waiting for me. The last moment of my drama.

I imagine that maybe someday there will be a show on Broadway based on my life—a great example of a life that no one should have lived—I smiled at the thought, as I always liked to romanticize things in the most clichéd and poetic way. After all, Bryce was right, I was mental, and no matter how hard I tried to run away from the dark version of myself, it would catch up with me one day. And that day seemed to have finally come.

As I walked down Wall Street, wearing my favorite headphones and listening to Huey Lewis and the News, I stumbled by the phone booth—a random idea plagued my mind before I could really think about it. Opening my briefcase, I found my notebook, and soon I was dialing your office number, hoping you wouldn't answer. But my hopes were never to be fulfilled. 

To my surprise, I heard a male voice coming from the phone and all the words stuck in my throat like a lump. "Uh...hi...can I talk to..."

"Sorry sir, I can't hear you properly...it might be the bad connection," the voice replied and it made me really nervous. "I'm sorry, but if you want to talk to my boss, they are out of the office right now."

Out of the office…shit.

"Who am I talking to?" I asked, almost fainting.

"Vinc..." an unpleasant static noise came over my brain and I held my eyes closed for a second from the stabbing pain in my temples. "My name is Vincent...I'm .... assistant."

"Listen, Vincent..." I started to speak, not even knowing that he could hear my words. "I want you to tell your boss that...Patrick Bateman called and...this would be my LAST call," I laughed hysterically, leaning against the phone booth door. "I'm going to, uh... disappear..."

A short pause seemed like an eternity.

"You mean you are leaving New York City, sir?" Vincent's question surprised me.

My lips twitched in a wicked smile. "No...I mean...yes..."

"Are you going somewhere in particular, Mr. Bateman?" The man asked me and I stopped breathing for a second.

"I'm going...to a place where no one will ever...find me..."

And with that I hung up the phone. There was already a line of people by the phone booth, and as I walked away, they looked at me with the most disdainful look I could ever dream of mastering. Unfortunately, I wouldn't need it anymore.

Soon the white walls of my apartment would be the only witness to my last confession. My apartment smelled so fresh and good, the maid had just finished cleaning, and I was glad that if the police found my body, they would see that wealth and money were not a panacea for a happy life, although I had believed in it fervently for almost all these years. With deliberate steps, I walked into my bathroom, grabbed a small bottle of medicine prescribed by my psychiatrist, and popped a handful of pills at once. Then I looked at my reflection in the mirror and somehow realized that the mask I had worn for most of my adult life was about to slip. Right now, at this very moment, I was about to die. An abnormal dizziness washed over me, I could barely stand on my feet when I suddenly saw your silhouette behind me in the mirror. I gulped and turned around to see nothing but the empty doorway, my hands shaking so badly that I failed to put the bottle back in its place, dropping it on the floor and scattering pills all over the bathroom.

Holy shit.

A strong gag reflex suddenly took over me and I managed to get to the toilet faster than I could throw up—I threw up all the pills—Jesus Christ, I was so weak I couldn't even finish this... I was so pathetic. In the end, I finally accepted that as the darkness took me in its cold embrace.

Knock…knock…

What is this? Am I still alive?

I kept questioning myself because I didn't feel anything, no pain, no remorse, nothing. But if I were dead, I wouldn't hear that strange sound, would I? I opened my wet eyes and looked up at the white ceiling—I was still in my bathroom— lying on my back, covered in my own vomit, saliva and bile. My mouth smelled like a rotten rat and I knew what I was talking about. The annoying knocking kept coming from my front door, and although I didn't want to get up, I felt that if I didn't, this fucking knocking would never stop.

With careful, unhurried movements, I crawled to the sink and, leaning on the bathroom counter, managed to stand up and quickly brush my teeth, avoiding looking at my reflection because I was sure I looked like shit. After that, I took off my stained clothes and put on a new robe that I had bought myself for no reason a few days ago. 

As I approached the front door, the knocking stopped and I thought it was just another hallucination, but I decided to open the door anyway and to my surprise I saw my concierge who looked very worried and even scared.

"Mr. Bateman, thank God you're all right!" The man blurted out, holding his concierge hat in his hands.

"Of course I'm okay," I replied nonchalantly. "What happened? Or did you just come to check on me?"

"Well," the concierge looked away before rubbing his gray mustache. "Someone was looking for you..."

My eyebrows furrowed, and I peered out into the long corridor. "Who was it? Did they give a name? Was it a policeman or something?" 

"No, sir." The old man gave me an awkward smile that made me even more angry. "They were so desperate...they were literally storming around the lobby...constantly saying things about you not answering calls and not opening the door...I told them maybe you just left..."

The rest of what he said fell on deaf ears, because now I was absolutely sure who was looking for me. "What time is it now?"

"11 a.m., sir."

"Today is Friday, right?" I asked, my head spinning. "It should be Friday."

The concierge paused. "It's Sunday, sir."

Sunday?

A sharp pang of nausea crept into my stomach, nearly breaking me in half, but I managed to grab hold of the doorjamb for support. "Where is this person?"

"Mr. Bateman, I had to call the police because they were being...kind of aggressive," the concierge explained, stepping back a bit. "The cops arrived pretty quickly...they found out this person had drugs, sir."

I stagger to the side as if from the hard blow. "And what happened next...did they arrest them?"

"I...I guess so?"

I let out a tired sigh, rolling my eyes and trying to keep it together - this poor guy was not guilty, it was just an accident, but how did you get caught with drugs? It was so fucking illogical to me.

My voice was unnaturally soft as I tried my fucking best not to snap at the man across from me. "Did the cops really take them away? Did you see that with your own eyes?" The concierge just nodded, and I could tell by his nervousness that he felt it was his fault at some level. "All right, thank you for your information, remind me to tip you next month." And with that, I closed the front door, leaving the man in a completely bewildered state.

Shit...this whole situation seemed like a fucking joke, but I had to think fast—I needed a plan how to solve this bullshit and maybe I could get some answers if I could help you. I took a moment to collect myself and told myself that one way or another I had to go there...to rescue you.

I'll do it even if I have to burn down this police station.

In record time, my impeccable appearance was ready, and now I confidently walked down the long, dimly lit corridor of the police station that was closest to where I lived—I hoped you were in that station, but if not, I would visit all of them until I found you.

Finally, I reached the reception area, where a pretty policewoman greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for..." I opened my briefcase and showed her my notebook with your full name written in it. "Are they here, in this department? I believe they were arrested today."

The officer smiled at me before she turned around and started to rummage through some papers, folds, notes... With each passing moment I was getting more and more impatient, but I had to play it cool.

"I think I found the person you were looking for," the woman said, placing several documents on the reception desk, implying that I should take a look at them. "They were delivered here an hour ago."

"Can I see them?" I asked, putting on my casual, seductive smile.

“And what is your relationship to the suspect?” 

Damn, not this fucking question.

I was a little stunned at first, but then I quickly tugged at my red tie and tilted my head in a condescending way. "I'm their lawyer, and I need to see them as soon as possible."

I noticed that her expression suddenly changed, her eyes gliding over my massive form—she was obviously trying to access my appearance and compare it to the look of a successful lawyer living in New York City—when I gave her an intense look and then winked, she visibly blushed.

After a small cough, she took the documents and only then dared to look at me again. "The suspect is now in interrogation room number one. Don't get lost."

"Thanks." I grinned broadly and, after closing my briefcase, left the reception.

It didn't take me long to find the interrogation room I needed. As I stopped right next to the door, I checked myself in the reflection of the nearby window—I looked perfect, not as perfect as I used to be, but not too horrible either.

A light knock on the door before I opened it. "Good afternoon, sorry for the long wait. How is my client? I hope you haven't done anything inappropriate in my absence?"

The moment our eyes met, I could see a mixture of shock, disbelief, and something beyond human understanding.

"And who the hell is that?" One of the officers—a rather fat guy with a messy beard—asked his partner, then looked at you. "You said you were from Chicago and your lawyer had to catch a flight here."

"Yes, that's exactly what I said. Why are you telling me my own words?" You crossed your arms and gave me a scorching gaze, I seized the moment of your confusion to nestle into the empty chair next to you. "Probably...my lawyer has handed this case over to his colleague in New York, so he doesn't have to come here."

Both policemen looked at us as if we were idiots—which we definitely were—but I hoped this affair would work out.

"But you asked to be allowed to make a phone call... the whole damn time," another policeman replied, pointing his finger at you and then at me. "I'm going to send you both to jail if you don't tell me what-"

"Jesus Christ, I told you several times...I was at a party...I took someone's coat by mistake and there was...this fucking bag of cocaine, but it's not mine! You can check the fingerprints and you won't find mine on this fucking bag! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?"

"My client is right. Before we get the results of the fingerprint analysis, the presumption of innocence should not be forgotten." I started in the most serious tone I could manage. "Remember that."

Both officers started arguing with each other almost immediately, using many different insults that I would definitely have to remember so that I could present them to Tim— he would love to hear them. I was about to say something clever when the door suddenly opened and a woman with dark hair stepped into the room.

"What the hell is going on?" The woman asked her colleagues, looking disappointed and quite angry. "Everyone can hear you outside."

"Oh, Miss Moore," one of the officers murmured like a guilty child. "Well, we..."

"Detective Moore to you, Rogers," she replied, her posture radiating confidence. You and I both stared at her for a while, I noticed her tanned skin and thick curly hair, she was definitely Hispanic, the accent was also quite noticeable. "Can I confide in you at least once?" Officer Rogers looked at his partner, neither of them said a word, and that made the detective even more annoyed. "We'll talk about it later, now go."

The cops didn't dare protest, and soon they left. Now it was just you, me and Detective Moore in the interrogation room. The tension was palpable in the air, my hands were sweaty and shaking, I had to brush them off my open coat, but before I could, you caught one of them and squeezed it barely sensibly—I gasped, almost choking on my saliva.

After a brief examination of the documents, the woman across from us raised her brown eyes and smiled, not too friendly, but not too menacing either. "So, my name is Andrea Moore," she turned to look at you, holding a piece of paper in her hand. "I already know your name," her piercing gaze finally stopped on me. "May I have your documents, sir?"

Swallowing hard, I unlocked my briefcase to hand her my ID. "Yeah, sure."

"Mr. Bateman...have we met before?"

"No...I don't think so."

Andrea hummed to herself. "Well, I hope you brought your law license with you?" 

Your grip on my palm tightened, I almost let out a hysterical squeal. "I... I must have left it in my office."

"Listen," you suddenly spoke up, gesticulating as if you were at a school presentation. "I need to call my assistant, Vincent Eisenhower...he will help sort things out-"

"Wait a minute...did you say Vincent Eisenhower?" Andrea suddenly stopped you, obviously surprised.

"Uh, yeah, he's my assistant at the company I work-" 

"...in Chicago?" 

"Yes..." you replied in confusion. "Is there something wrong with that?"

The detective didn't answer, and it made me nervous as hell, but you holding my hand in a gentle manner was strangely comforting, even though I despised such displays of affection.

Looking puzzled, Andrea finally took the pen and a clean piece of paper. "Can you give me the number...I'll call Mr. Eisenhower and ask him for...a real lawyer. Mr. Bateman, I hope you understand the consequences of your actions-"

"Leave him alone, it's not his fault," you cut Andrea off before I could say anything in my defense. "He didn't know what he was doing coming here...please...he hasn't done anything bad...he's just going through a hard time in his life and..."

"Enough," the detective raised her hand in a halting gesture. "I hope I can reach out to Mr. Eisenhower....You two better pray for that."

Andrea left as abruptly as she had come. We were finally alone. Both confused, frightened, and lost.

"Why did you even come here?" You asked, not looking at me, but not parting our hands. "How stupid of you to come here and act like you were my lawyer."

"I HAD NO CHOICE!" I almost screamed, turning in my seat to cut the mere distance between us. "Not after you terrorized me with those damn phone calls..."

As I said that, time stood still for us and I could see the inner conflict in your deep, mesmerizing eyes—you were broken and lost just like me—I looked down at our intertwined hands, waiting for your answer.

"What calls, Patrick? What are you talking about?" 

"You know WHAT I'm talking about...don't try to fuck with my brain," I husked, inches from your lips. "You think this is funny, huh?" 

"And you think it's funny to call my office and tell my assistant about your suicidal intentions?" Your warm breath wafted pleasantly around my face as you moved closer. "You think it's funny to appear and disappear in my life like I'm a toy you can play with whenever you feel bored?"

At first I didn't answer. Instead, I just kept eye contact with you, then I lowered my eyes to our hands again—my palm was bigger than yours, this little detail always made my heart flutter. Did I ever think that such a small thing would stir such strong emotions in me? Probably not.

Definitely not.

"By the way, did you manage to find out anything about that machine you told me about?" I questioned abruptly, putting my arm around your shoulders. 

You frowned and chuckled in disbelief. Well, at least the tension was relieved.

"What machine?" You fidgeted in your seat as I pulled you closer. "Hey, don't change the subject..."

"A memory reboot machine," I crooned, leaning forward so our noses rubbed against each other. "If you're here... that means you probably didn't find it."

The urge to indulge in this moment, to follow the passionate momentum and just kiss these lips I'd been thinking about all along, was unbearable, but I didn't want to be the first to fall apart and drop my defenses.

"Maybe I never needed this machine," you replied, pressing your forehead against mine for a brief moment. "Because I never wanted to forget...you?"

Was it a question or a statement—we never knew as we both moved towards each other, my burning lips pressed against your soft ones as we shared the most desirable kiss I could ever imagine. Gasping into my mouth, you let go of my hand only to wrap both of them around my neck as you responded with no less favor than mine. It was so hot, so desperate, so tragic. And it was all mine— your pain, your anger, your hatred.

Because you were my salvation.

With precise deftness, I carefully tilted your head back a little to deepen the kiss, my arms eagerly but not persistently roving around your back, knowing every little detail of your body, every dent and bump. As much as I wanted to tell you how fucking perfect you were for me, I didn't want this kiss to end, but as if you could read my mind, you suddenly pulled me away a little too abruptly and roughly.

"God, I hate you..." you wept, covering your face so I couldn't see your tears. "I really... I really thought you were going to do something bad... I was afraid it was too late..."

I was at a loss, I didn't know how to react or what to say—everything about you confused me, made my brain overload with different thoughts about what you said and why—now was no exception.

"But I'm here now...in one piece," I decided not to touch you, my hand resting on the back of your chair, ready to hug you at any moment if it was needed. "You should understand that...if I really wanted to do this, no one would be able to stop me..." I whisper above your ear and place my hand on the back of your head, gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on the table. "Even you."

I knew that this confession would mean nothing, just like all my previous ones, but as soon as I said it, you raised your tear-stained eyes and whimpered. "Don't say that...don't fucking say that! You can be a total asshole, but that doesn't mean you deserve to die..."

"Darling," I gently brushed your stray locks from your face, trying to distract you and keep you from saying words that would only make things worse. "You know so little about me...but I don't want you to say something you'll regret..."

"I've already said too many things that I now regret," you replied, turning away from me. "Have you ever thought about your family and how they would react if something bad happened to you? Have you thought about Evelyn?"

My eyebrows knitted together, the words you said pierced my heart like sharp daggers, but I didn't want you to stop, because you were right, I was always selfish, but you knew so little about my family, who would surely be sad about the loss, but they would recover pretty quickly, since they still had Sean. And Evelyn? I would laugh if things were not so sad.

Trembling and sobbing, you still sat with your back to my face. "I'm not going to ask you for anything except to promise me that you'll never even think about...hurting yourself."

Oh, dear.

With a soft clink of my chair, I stood up and placed both of my hands on your trembling shoulders. "I promise... if you stay with me, I'll never look back... on my previous life." I felt your body tense under my touch. "We can't reboot the memory, but we can...reboot our lives?"

This was it—the moment I had fantasized about so many times, considering different outcomes, scenarios—I was waiting for your answer when the door creaked and Detective Moore appeared in my vision. She was much more cheerful than before, which worried me a bit.

"So," she took a seat, opened a folder with documents and wrote something on it. "I spoke to Vince, and luckily for you, he has already contacted your lawyer-"

"Vince?" You asked in shock, but at least you stopped crying.

Andrea stuttered and cleared her throat. "I mean..." she paused and twirled the pen in her hand. "It happened that Vincent and I used to know each other..."

What?

We were both speechless, how the hell could such a coincidence have happened? 

"Well... I really didn't see it coming..." You murmured, brushing the remnants of tears from your face.

"Neither did I," the detective chuckled curtly before resuming her work on some papers. "Listen, we should wait for the results of the fingerprint analysis, and while we wait, you are forbidden to leave the city. Please put your sign here."

"What is this?"

"Your ticket to freedom," she explained. "A street bail."

I saw you hesitate, so I gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and you looked at me, I simply nodded, and you placed the sign. 

"And how long have you known Vincent?" You asked after you handed the document back to Andrea. "Just asking."

"Since childhood, I think."

"Oh... that's... a lot."

"Vince has always been known for being a good boy..." the woman paused, coughing awkwardly. "Uh, you can talk to him about... that if you're interested." Andrea closed the folder and shifted her gaze to me. "And you, I highly recommend that you never do anything like this again."

"So you're not going to put me in a cell?" I replied in a slightly teasing manner.

"No...not this time. But the officer who allowed you to come here will be severely punished, maybe even fired," Andrea explained, getting up from her chair. "It's her first day at the police station, but she let a man go through without even checking his papers. Such violations are very serious."

And although I didn't feel sad for this woman I would probably never see again, I looked at you and your big doe eyes. "Maybe there's a way not to fire her? I assured her that I was a lawyer and...I could pay a fine if I had to."

Detective Moore said nothing, she just grinned and beckoned us to follow her.

An hour later we finally left the police station. For some time we walked in complete silence, the surrounding commotion drawing out my shallow breathing, my mind overclocked with the search for topics to talk about after all the shit that had happened.

"So... where did you stay?" I asked casually, looking at you from above, your eyelashes shimmering in the sunlight. "In the Plaza?"

"No," you replied almost immediately. "Not the Plaza this time...it was all booked up."

"You were really in New York... for the whole time?"

"Depends on what time you mean exactly," your slight smile made me almost stumble, but I pretended to see someone familiar. "Maybe I haven't left New York at all?"

No, that can't be.

"You know, since you can't leave the city... maybe we should spend some time together and... you didn't answer my question."

My offer made you stall, and I followed suit. Passers-by walked past us, not paying attention even though we were standing in the middle of the street.

"Was it really a question?"

"And what do you think it was?"

"A plea?" You smiled and stepped closer to me until there was no space between us. "If you weren't so stubborn...everything could be so much easier."

"And YOU tell me that?" I let myself pull you closer to me. "I have an idea...fuck the place where you stopped! We should go to Newport."

"Newport? Would it count that I left New York?" you asked me a little shyly. "Do you have a house there or...?"

"My family has a house there and since they are out of town we can use it to kill time...have you ever been to Newport?" My hands rested possessively on your waist and before I knew it, I added. "Me and Evelyn are getting divorced..."

"No, I haven't," you replied, finally resting your hands on my shoulders. "But I really want to...since I've heard a lot of good things about this place..." then you suddenly froze. "What... What did you say? Are you kidding me? God, I can't believe this...I..."

You continued to bubble something that made me smile in amusement and I couldn't help but hold you tightly in my arms— the place you always belonged to, though I understood it too late. The fresh breeze of change swirled around us, playing with our hair and clothes. Yesterday I didn't know if I would make it to tomorrow, but today I was sure that there would be so many tomorrows because I wasn't alone anymore.

With you, for you, in your name—I was still alive and finally free.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[bedoballoons]

oh well if you didn’t get itI basically said that move to will probably not be able to control mui because he only appears to turn into ai but it’s just an illiusion.

for my request it was another mitsuri like us x character but we are sad about our past.

SPOILER FOR SEASON 3!!!!!

Due to mitsuri eating so much food, having be reallly strong and have pink and green hair. She was called a pig and one EX said that only a cow or pig would ever marry her which made her dye her hair black and eat 9x less than she needed. And when she found another partner she realized she don’t keep on pretending. One headcannon can I have about her is that you do this she gained an eating disorder. Where she will not eat as much as she needs.

can the characters be: wanderer,albedo,diluc,kaeya,xiao and one of your choice. I love your works and also My cat just had 3 KITTYS!!! I plan on naming them scarameow,kokkie and coco.🐱🐱🍫🍪

Ohhh! You know I really seem to write this show alot and I've still never seen it... :p CONGRATULATIONS on kittens!! Those are such cute names!! I hope they are all doing well ❤️❤️

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Mitsuri like reader~༺}

CW: Angsty! Reader has a eating disorder, has been called a pig and is self conscious about weight! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon chérie, my love,

A/n: I just wanted to say that if you've ever been called a pig, or cow or made fun of for your weight, please don't listen to them. Your body is beautiful and me personally I think you're amazing wether you're skinnier than average or heavier than average. You are gorgeous! ❤️

(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Albedo, Xiao, Wanderer, and Kaeya!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Diluc:

Diluc set a plate in front of you, sitting in the chair across from you with a hopeful gleam in his red eyes...,"I haven't seen you eat anything all day...please, just a few bites. It's your favourite, fresh out of the oven." You looked down at the fresh warm food, the wonderful smell making your stomach churn unhappily, it was such a fatty dish...

Suddenly the harsh words of others started playing in your head, reminding you why you wanted to loose weight so badly..

Pig

Cow

Fatty

You pushed his cooking away, unable to even take a nibble, "I'm not hungry...sorry Diluc. It smells amazing though..." you tried to smile at him, but he clearly wasn't happy with your response. He took your hand into his and placed a kiss on your fingers, whispering against them with sorrow in his voice, "You are beautiful the way you are...please, don't listen to them."

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney hurried up to you, holding a freshly baked croissant in his hands that he'd gotten for the two of you to share, silently hoping you'd eat it with him...that all of his suspicions weren't true, "Mon chérie! Looks yummy hmm? Want to sit down for a bite?" His eyes met yours and he simply couldn't imagine how someone could say anything horrible about you, you...were the most gorgeous person in his eyes and he wished so desperately he could show you that.

"I don't mind if we sit and chat while you eat! I'm not really in the mood for a croissant right now, thank you though." You tried your best to sound sweet and truthful, feeling so guilty you had to lie to him...but you wanted to be perfect for him and loosing weight seemed to be the only way...at least in everyone else's eyes.

"...my love, I'll get you anything you wish to eat.."

"I'm just...not hungry right now Lyney."

He grasped your wrist softly, stopping you from walking away so he could kiss your lips...he'd find a way to show you your own beauty, he'd tell you every hour on the dot if he had to...

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedo bit his lip, for once in his life he had encountered a problem he just had no idea how to solve, he thought of you as the true meaning of life, the very being that made him want to get out of bed every morning and show his love for you any way he could, a inspiration that never ceased to look perfect and yet...you didn't feel that way about yourself...

How could it be, how could someone break your heart...call you a pig for enjoying food...a cow, it bothered him to no end and he just couldn't wrap his head around that cruelty..."Klee and I made cookies...they are chocolate chip...with a few sprinkles, would you like some?" He sat next to you, Klee following after him, "Ohhh please try one! The sprinkles make them extra yummy!" She looked at you with such a cute face...that for a split second you considered it...they smelled so good and even with sprinkles you could tell they'd be delicious..but, you felt sick at the thought of taking bite...

"Awe next time Klee, I'm...not hungry right now..."

Albedo sighed...how was he going to fix this...

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao was having a hard time understanding your situation, it didn't make sense, why would the pathetic humans who couldn't compare to you in the slightest tell you such awful things...and why would you ever believe them? He was so worried about you, your normally plump cheeks sunken in slightly and your happy smile gone, you didn't enjoy eating...in fact he almost never saw you eat at all anymore.

He had to remind you every two minutes, just to take a few bites and even then you'd refuse, "You should eat...you need to. Please." You'd look away, slightly angry...slightly sad and just say you didn't want to, and it wasn't like he was going to force you to, but he wished there was a way he could help. He'd just have to keep telling you what was true...clearing their sick words from your mind with his sweet sentiments,

"You are the true meaning of every beautiful thing in this world, those mortals are threatened by it and seek to destroy you because of it...don't listen to them."

"You look perfect in my eyes..."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"Why are you listening to those idiots! They probably wouldn't know what beauty was if it slapped them in the face! You are...ughhh" Wanderer groaned in annoyance, knowing full well yelling wasn't going to help you...but he was just so angry, how dare anyone bully you like that, get under your skin. "I'm sorry....I didn't mean to shout, I just, you can't believe what they are saying! Hell if someone like me, who's never loved anyone before...who never gave a damn what people looked like...could fall so goddamn hard for you, you have to be goregous. I will say that as many times as I have to!"

You fought the urge to cry, he didn't usually get so emotional over things like this, but he was worried about you and...for good reason, "Wanderer, I'm fine.." You tucked a piece of your pink hair behind you ear, trying to hide from his prying eyes that starred daggers at you, did you truly think he'd buy that? "Don't lie to me. You're not fine, you're hurting yourself...making yourself sick. Just tell me what to do! How do I help! What do I say...you're fucking perfect to me...isn't that enough?"

𑁍༄Kaeya:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Oh...are you sure you don't want just a bite. I've gone and ordered two, you wouldn't want me to have to eat both would you? I'd surely become ill with a stomach ache.." Kaeya scooched the plate in your direction, using every persuasive method he could think of...he'd already tried complimenting you over and over, flirting with you more often, showering you with kisses and love, but you still wouldn't enjoy a meal with him. This was his last resort...

"Kaeya..."

"Pretty please...just a little would make me so happy..."

You sighed, thinking about how much you'd eaten...or more rather, how much you hadn't eaten and took a small bite, the flavours tasting good, but not like they used to...it was difficult to even swallow. Kaeya seemed so proud though, so...hopeful.

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[pickingupmymercedes]

And just like the sun, we will rise - Lewis Hamilton

warnings: slight mentions of nudity, w14, Mercedes team post 2021, angsty

wordcount: + 1k

a/n: This is my first fic here. I have been reading somethings here for a while now, but never quite really had the courage to post. So, kind of doing something I never thought I would.

Please, do send me thoughts, notes, ideas, corrections, anything really, I would love to hear you guys.

You walked into the en-suite defeated, head hanging low, throwing your shoes, bag and computer in the nearest surface, deep breath finally leaving your lungs after what felt like a lifetime of holding it in.

You all went into Sunday on a high, Lewis’ pole felt like a dream finally coming true after 2 years. Your promise to him finally a reality. A light at the end of a very dark and twisty tunnel, at last, shinning bright enough to be followed.

But, like it had happened for the past 2 seasons, the race came and the car showed its true colors.

A meeting with Toto and the legal team of AMG got you stuck on track longer than Lewis, so a quick hug and hushed kiss before telling him to go rest was all you two shared in the very public and busy garage.

You got to your hotel only hours later and in need of a good shower, a crappy tv show, a snack and something to make the guilt less pungent. 

You found him laying peacefully asleep in the sofa set in the corner of your bedroom, still in the pants he left the circuit. His phone, open on Instagram, on his hand. After tough races he’d usually crash like that, especially the ones neither of you would return home the same day, that night in hotel rooms reserved to the both of you only, you and him and whatever it was that was weighting on your minds and hearts.

You lightly ran your fingertips in his arm, watching as his eyes fought to open and focus on you, a lazy smile spreading through all his features.

“Hey, go to bed”

“Hi there, stranger”

“Things took longer than expected, I’m sorry”

“It’s okay.” He mumbled while getting up and pulling you tightly into his arms the second he steadied himself, that was before he felt you stiffing up at his touch.

“Hey, you good?”

“Not really, but I’ll be better after a shower, promise.” You pleaded into his neck, cutting him mid-sentence, hoping he would let it go, just this once, and ignore the unbearable ability he had to read right through you.

You sneaked from those strong arms, with quite some resistance, and gave him a sad smile in return before heading to the quietness of the bathroom, the safety of the shower pouring scorching water on your skin until the prickling sensation numbed your mind.

He was so quiet you only really realized he had gotten into the shower with you when he cleared his throat behind you. You sighed; you knew he wouldn’t let it go that easily, not after today.

 “I can’t promise to have all the answers, but please let me in” his voice made even smaller by the sound of water hitting the stone flooring.

 “I got way in over my head” You whispered after a while, turning to him and letting him really see you for the first time since that morning. He was met with a serene look on your features, a certainty he was certainly not expecting.

“I promised you something I can’t physically give you Lew. I can’t guarantee the team’s going to be back in winning ways, I’m sorry, I really am.”

Your statement didn’t really shock him, he had contemplated that quietly a few times before. But for the first time since he’s met you were openly admitting to him, in the secrecy of that bathroom in a hotel somewhere, that you were giving up.

“Talk to me.” He knew how to handle with angry, moody, sassy, overjoyed, happy you, but his fiercely headstrong girlfriend giving up wasn’t something he was used to.

You had thought about that from the moment the w14 got beaten right after the first corner of the race and it had eaten at you for hours until you couldn’t hold it in anymore and had talked to Toto in between meetings. He didn’t look surprise by it, he didn’t even seem sad, he had known from the get go in 2022 Mercedes wouldn’t be able to breach the gap and give Lewis the title he’d been stolen, at least not in the time the AMG board had set for Lewis.

“We don’t know where to go from here, losing those 3 positions at the beginning just showed we don’t have a p1 car anymore. We haven’t had one in a while huh?! I – I’m not sure we’ll get one in time… for you.” You serenely put you realization before him, looking at his features and posture, trying to read his reactions before he shook his head and took the step to close the distance between you two, bringing you out of the water and into his naked torso.

“That title dream was lost in 2021 babe. I told you that already. I’m in the sport for something bigger, and we – I, I need you with me on that, okay?”

“Okay” You whispered looking up at him, the certainty in his features enough to get you by that night.

Hours later, in the mess of the sheets, his warmth and the first rays of sunshine signaled the worst was over, and the tattoo on his back made sure to remember you that someday you two would, eventually, still rise.

[sylix-royalty]

I’m getting back into writing, so have a Hotch/Reid snippet!

can… can i have a hug? please?

And a little bit of

oh, sweetheart- come here.

With a dash of

how long has it been since someone hugged you?

Type: Angsty Fluff

Warnings: Kinda just sad, brief mention of drugs

Spencer was very obviously the most touch starved of the group. It wasn’t to no fault of his, not really. It was clear he didn’t prefer physical contact most of the time, but Aaron wasn’t stupid. Aaron knew that despite Spencer’s sensory issues and mild germaphobic tendencies, he really just wanted to be hugged sometimes.

It was more obvious after some cases, when his arms wrapped around himself as he sat alone on the back of the plane, curled up as staring out of the window rather than reading whatever book he’d already read 7 or 8 times that week. It was only Wednesday after all.

It was less obvious after others, the itch of his hands as he read, how they’d twitch before he’d read a page. Aaron noticed, but he wasn’t sure that the others did, too careful of Spencer sensory. And Spencer clearly didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire of his own mind by his need of physical contact. But, Aaron wasn’t stupid. He was a profiler for a reason. But he wasn’t just going to jump down Spencer’s throat like that, putting him on the spot would be unhelpful and most likely backfire.

So, Aaron watched more intentionally. Trying to give an obvious sign to Spencer that he was here for him, should Spencer need him. It took a while, longer than Aaron liked to admit, but finally Spencer came into his office after hours.

The case had been a bad one. Having to deal with not only children, but Spencer was taken as a hostage and belittled so bad that Aaron was on the verge of shooting the man just to make him shut the hell up for good. Of course he couldn’t, that would risk his job, and more importantly Spencer’s life, but the thought definitely crossed his mind.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Spencer asked softly, and Aaron nodded slowly.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said gently, trying not to use that boss tone he knew he had. Spencer nodded, noting the attempt, and sat on the couch, curled up with his arms around himself once again, staring at the wall.

Aaron worked in silence, not going to push or pry answers out of the younger. He knew Spencer was struggling, and he had a terrible reputation when it came to asking for help. But Aaron hoped he was slowly working through that.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Spencer whispered, finally. “You don’t… you don’t see me as a… drugged up, ratty—“

“No, Spencer,” Aaron cut him off, not allowing Spencer to repeat the words of the UnSub. “I don’t see you like that. No one does.”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, “I feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if everything’s worth it.”

“It’s all worth it,” Aaron whispered.

“You would say that,” Spencer whispered, and Aaron set his pen down.

“Meaning?” Aaron asked without trying to sound offended or offput.

“Meaning you see me,” Spencer explained. “You see the man I’m trying to be. You… you understand… who I am in a way that most other’s can’t.”

“I’m perceptive,” Aaron reasoned.

“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But you also care.”

“This team cares about you,” Aaron reasoned.

“They do,” Spencer nodded. “But they care so much about one thing, something you’ve been… overlooking lately.”

Aaron blinked.

“You’ve been staring at me, after cases. Reading me. I see your eyes. I feel them.”

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention,” Aaron promised.

“No, I know,” Spencer promised. “I just…” he inhaled slowly, his arms falling from where they were wrapped around him. “Can I have… have a hug? Please?”

Aaron exhaled slowly from where he sat, finally hearing the words come from Spencer’s mouth almost made him jump out of his chair. He still moved a bit too quick, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind or care as he quickly got off the couch, hearing Aaron’s gentle “oh sweetheart, come here,” and met Aaron halfway, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron’s arms around his waist.

Spencer almost broke right there. But Aaron held him up strong, as per usual. He kept his hold for as long as Spencer needed, or wanted, which was longer than he originally calculated.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” Aaron whispered into his ear.

“Too long,” Spencer whispered, voice broken and scraggly as he pushed his nose into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Don’t let it ever be that long again,” Aaron whispered.

“I’m here, Spence. I’m right here.”

[bunnyywritings]

to be seen...

BAKUGOU KATSUKI X GN!READER

[a/n: i lowkey love the hc that bakugou is partially deaf/hard of hearing cause of his quirk like...it just makes so much sense to me ?? anyways i just wanted to get this one out of my system! it's not the best so...sorry but yeah...enjoy!! - bunny]

© bunnyywritings pls don't use my headers or writing without permission

wc: 1.6k words

warnings: none that i can think of...kinda angsty tbh, there's also more of a focus on bakugou than reader

This couldn’t be real. 

He’s not weak so…why? 

Why did this happen? 

Bakugou’s hands shook as these merciless thoughts ran through his head as Doctor’s poked and prodded at his ears. Their touch was bothersome but he supposed he was grateful he couldn’t really hear what they were discussing, any tangible noise was muddy and replaced by a ceaseless ringing. 

He had gone through all the motions. Denial being the most violent. He had screamed and cried in a clearing a ways away from the dorms where he had thought that no one would hear him but when he returned and immediately clocked your glossy eyes and trembling bottom lip, he realized how mistaken he was. 

Oh, you. Sweet, caring, you. 

He almost felt guilty for how much he had pushed you away. All you wanted to do was make sure he knew he wasn’t alone, make sure he felt loved and cared for but he mistook your empathy for pity and blew up at you. This time around it was much, much louder and much more terrifying because he couldn’t hear how loud and rude he was really being. 

He had scoffed when you clutched your fists to your side as big fat tears rolled down your cheeks. He couldn’t read lips very well but he didn’t need to when the word ‘mean’ had been formed so clearly by your lips before you ran off to your room. 

Now, he was just numb. Having accepted that this was his reality, Doctor’s poking and prodding and the uneasy sight of his mother so broken and…sad. Having to practically be held up by his father. 

This wasn’t right. She wasn’t weak. She was never weak but once again, he had mistaken her love and empathy for pity…for weakness. 

School had been on break for the spring and he was desperate to get back, he was being run through the wringer and as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted the mundane rhythm of his life back. He wanted to attend his classes again. Quirk training. English. Hero Law.

 He actually missed those idiots he calls friends. To sit with them in the cafeteria and hear about the stupid shojo that Denki was reading. Hear how Kiri can’t beat some boss level on the stupid game he was playing. Hear Mina complain about how her cuticles were as healthy as ever. Hear Jiro ramble on about a new band she found and how she thinks he’d actually like them. 

Hear…

Would he still be able to do any of that? 

He couldn’t quite remember what his condition was. The ringing was gone but all that's left is a muffled sea of jumbled up noises. He was getting better at reading lips and he was put through the master class of sign language in a week. His instructor was surprised but he knew that if you had been there, you would’ve given him a bashful smile and said, “I expected nothing less from our future top hero.” 

Ah, that’s right. 

Most of all, he missed you. 

Your smile. Your wit. Your eyes…the very same ones he made shine with tears. Your laugh…the sound he’d miss the most out of anything. 

Despite having left the way he did, you still texted him. He hadn’t responded but you still thought about him. 

“You’re doing an awful lot for a guy who told you to piss off…” Shoji eyed you carefully as you set up the classroom, helping you place workbooks on the desks and open the windows. 

“Yeah but you know as well as I do that Bakugou uses anger like a shield. He’s probably confused and in pain about all of this, it’s only fair that we help out as much as we can.” 

Your caring nature was worrying sometimes. Shoji had seen your heart shattered multiple times by people who brush you off or take advantage of your willingness to do hard work, he was worried that Bakugou didn’t deserve this kindness. 

He remembered holding you as you sobbed into his chest, it took everything in him to not run out to the common room and knock some sense into the blonde but ultimately, he decided that staying and comforting you was more important. 

And despite all that pain he caused you had gone straight to Principle Nezu and pleaded for the school’s help. Going as far as offering to do all the work in finding an instructor and getting all your classmates on board. Now, here you were setting up the classroom for the first day of sign language classes. 

The Friday before school started up again, Mitski got a call from the specialist they had been working with and with the influence of UA, Bakugou’s hearing aids were ready for him. She was ecstatic, enthusiastically waking her son and shouting at him to get ready. 

He was…startled to say the least. If he had been able to hear the yelp he had let out when he was shaken awake, he surely would’ve been a bright red. 

And so, with the promise of heading to a nice restaurant for breakfast before heading back home, Bakugou shoved himself into the backseat of the car and off they went. 

The school had covered two pairs and he almost scoffed at the design of the devices. The first pair’s earpiece was clear, swirled with red and orange and the part that hooks around the ear, an almost gaudy, bright red-orange. The second was just his hero costume earpieces with hearing aids attached. Both pairs were specially made to muffle his explosions while still being able to hear others clearly. They also had a bluetooth feature so he’d be able to listen to music comfortably.

The doctor and his parents looked on expectantly as Bakugou slipped them on for the first time, surprised by how comfortable they were. He switched them on with shaky hands and everyone waited in silence before he looked into his mother’s teary eyes. 

“Katsuki…honey? Can you hear me?” 

His eyes widened. Had her voice always been so tender?

 It brought tears to his eyes, he got up from the uncomfortable exam table, fists clenched at his sides. She looked up at him from her seat and her face crumbled. His eyebrows were pinched, a pitiful frown on his wobbling lips and tears slowly leaking from his eyes. 

“Oh, honey…” He threw himself into her embrace and cried into her neck like he had done many times when he was little. Masaru watched on in tearful wonder, remembering that this was still his son. His baby boy and he was hurting more than he let on. Shouldering an exhaustingly heavy burden on his shoulders all by himself. 

The image of his little boy, only 4 feet tall tearfully struggling to hold a boulder up above his head, arms and legs trembling with exhaustion and desperately calling out for his mommy and daddy shook him to his core. 

He wrapped his arms around both of them, his hand cradling the back of Bakugou’s head. “It’s okay, son. We’ve got you.” At the sound of his father’s steady and calming voice, the boy cried harder. “We’ve got you.” 

Standing in front of the dorms was more daunting than he thought it would be. Hiking up the steps was like attempting to trek Mt. Fuji. The only comfort being that he was expecting the common room to be empty. He expected everyone to be in their room attempting to settle back in after a week long break. 

He hated how wrong he’s been recently. 

When he opened the door, he was met with everyone cheering. It was all so loud and disorienting that, despite his hearing aids, he had no idea what the hell anyone had said. Then, you stepped through the crowd and suddenly everyone faded into the background. 

“Guys! I thought I said no shouting! It’s probably still too much for him!” 

“But you’re shouting right now…” Denki snickered, earning an unamused glare from you. 

His eyes filled with tears, heart constricting in his chest. Twisting and throbbing almost painfully. 

God, he missed you. 

“So scary when you look at me like that!” Denki shuddered playfully. 

You had opened your mouth to refute but were cut off by Bakugou suddenly roaring with laughter, squeaking the slightest bit as he hunched over, arms wrapped around his middle as he laughed. 

Shock ran through everybody’s spines, jaws on the floor. 

He wasn’t quite sure what came over him but it was an involuntary reaction. Maybe to camouflage the fact that he had a river of tears sliding down his chin. 

Once he had finished, he stood upright. Out of breath and wiping his eyes. Meeting your eyes once again made the butterflies in his stomach go berserk. They went downright psycho when your hands were held up in front of you, trembling as you carefully signed, ‘welcome home.’ 

He was silent once again. Absolutely dumbstruck. 

Midoriya watched on fondly, as did everyone, emotions overwhelming and tears filling their eyes. 

Bakugou was in complete disbelief. 

“When…” He breathed, hands coming up to sign the rest. ‘When did you learn that?’ 

It took you a second to register what he said before responding. ‘We learn over break…’ your signing was a little sloppy, he had missed a few things but caught on immediately at the end, ‘...love you. Want you feel normal as possible.’ 

He didn’t let you finish, grabbing you into his embrace and holding you tight. “Thank you.” He mumbled into your hair, you held on equally as tight. 

“You’re welcome.” Your voice so up close and intimate was a blessing. 

[nightlight-stardust-and-rain]

But what if Koyuki became a ghost, like, mere hours after her death? She was so very determined to not let her fiancé suffer another awful loss that she just noped out of heaven. She has a wonderful boy to marry and cherish, thank you very much!

Sadly she gets to him after Muzan does. At which point Hakuji is busy being driven insane by the hunger of a newly-born demon. Good thing that there's precisely sixty-seven freshly killed bodies near him!

Point is. Koyuki being with him as soon as he regains his senses (she had the very good idea to stay away from Muzan, he gave her a very bad feeling). Obviously he doesn't remember anything but I think having a living breathing reminder of his past with him would make him remember real fast. So he would still go by Hakuji I think.

Koyuki learns how to make herself solid enough to touch things after a few months or a few years, and Hakuji and her spend a very long time not letting go of each other's hands. Once she is able to touch things, being a ghost becomes much less sad. She can stay with Hakuji forever, there is literally no downside to that!

Koyuki being a ghost is also much less angsty than it sounds because now she's functionally invincible : she can't die of old age, blows and blades go through her, and she can't be poisoned since she can't eat. Really, not being able to eat is the saddest thing about being dead, but she figures that since Hakuji is unable to eat human food now it's only fair that she can't either! The vows say in sickness and in health after all.

Speaking of. They don't actually stay engaged that long. Of course, the wedding of a ghost and a demon sounds like a joke, but once Hakuji masters shapeshifting enough to make himself look human it's not that hard to find a priest who'd marry them (really the hardest part is to convince the priest to hold the ceremony when the sun's down). So they've actually been married for a long time when canon comes in!

Koyuki thinks that Hakuji's pink hair is soooo cute. She's also aware that his hair color and the snowflake of his demon art come from her, and she's super touched. She kind of regrets not being able to change clothes, she'd like to wear things blue like Hakuji's eyes!

Obviously having his memories since almost the beginning means that Hakuji faces a certain dilemna when it comes to eating. Koyuki helps him with finding a solution, and after a while they figure that Hakuji can go the scavenger route - find bodies that have been freshly killed so he doesn't need to kill - or eat horrible people, which is still murder but eh you do what you gotta do.

Koyuki and Hakuji, free from human restrictions, travel the whole country several times over. They don't fear illness or the elements anymore - they can play in the rain or in the snow and climb freezing mountains and neither of them needs to breathe so they can dive into the oceans mingling with the fish for hours. For Koyuki, who's always been so restricted by her frail body, this is nothing short of a dream come true. And she gets to spend eternity with her husband!

Koyuki manages to avoid Muzan's awareness by virtue of being able to be invisible and having no presence to speak of. Hakuji can feel her spirit like he can everyone's, but she has no smell and no mass and she is dead so if she goes invisible no one can know she's here except Hakuji.

Hakuji and Koyuki don't try to break the curse Hakuji is under because they're not aware it can be broken. They don't like Muzan at all but they don't have any other choice.... Of course Hakuji once tried to tell Koyuki that she wasn't bound to his master, so she could leave if she wanted to, but he didn't even get to finish his sentence before getting yelled at. At some point they learn of Tamayo, though, and, well.... It's a very interesting thing to learn.

Also! Koyuki being dead means that she's absolutely sturdy enough to learn Soryuu! I think she would want to learn to honor her father and also because Hakuji finds so much joy in it and she wants to share that with him. She's not much for fighting, and they both try to avoid demon slayers because those guys are just doing their job and they feel bad if Hakuji has to kill one of them (and anyway Hakuji is actually pretty low-key as far as demons go, what with being mostly a scavenger... And they move around a lot so they're pretty untraceable - all in all Hakuji is pretty much never specifically hunted by demon slayers).

They spend much of their time holding hands because even after centuries they're still ridiculously in love, and they may in fact have some separation anxiety (you can't blame them, the last time they were separated ended very badly for both of them).

They go see the fireworks every year and visit Keizo's grave often to tell him about their travels :)

Also! Just thought about this but I remember reading somewhere that Akaza's demon marks were actually related to his thief tattoos in the sense that they were marks of his crimes. But like. Are we talking murdered-67-swordsmen kind of crimes or killed-and-ate-people kind of crimes? Because if it's the latter, then it means that the marks developed over time (weird to think about) but also that in this au he might not have those marks at all since he kills. WAY LESS people than he presumably does in canon. Like he's mostly a scavenger which still falls under "eating humans" but....... Idk the point is that in this au Hakuji might have way less or different demon markings.

[wosomarvel]

communication - 04

alrighty, here it is. definitely not my best work, but i wanted to get something out before the second round of midterms starts.

i also got tickets to sinc's last international game so i am in a great mood and managed to write this in the span of an hour.

enjoy!! as always, i am open to feedback <3

this one is very angsty but with a nice dose of comfort as well.

-----

leah was worried. very worried.

the last time she'd heard from sim was over a week ago when she'd texted her a "got home safe" after camp was over. it didn't help that sim had been closed off since the conversation leah had overheard.

at first, leah thought that maybe she was just overreacting. that was before alessia had approached the captain, asking if she knew why sim was suddenly avoiding everyone after having been so joyous after the match.

leah thought she'd give the younger girl some space after everyone went back to their clubs, but on the third day after their return, leah had had enough. she'd gone to sim's apartment with two coffees from the cafe they frequented.

she gave up knocking on sim's door after the ice in her cold brew melted.

it didn't come as a surprise to leah that sim had shut down. she'd always been resistant to talking about her feelings, but leah hadn't expected her to just vanish. leah had spoken to beth, ella, alessia, and even sarina, hoping that sim had reached out to one of them.

her attempts were fruitless. it was during this time that it dawned on leah how little she actually knew about her friend. she had no idea where to look for her, or who else might have a clue where to start. she didn't even know if sim had any family.

logically, leah knew that this was by design. it wasn't that leah hadn't tried. in fact, it often frustrated leah that sim was so good at avoiding talking about anything from before they had met. and it wasn't that leah didn't know sim that well. she just didn't know about sim. she knew her favourite colour, knew how to read her emotions, how she liked her coffee, how kind she was even when she pretended not to care.

that didn't stop the pit of guilt that settled in leah's stomach like a 50lb dumbell she couldn't shake.

"still haven't heard from her?" viv asked, bringing leah back to her surroundings.

leah shook her head in response as she changed out of her training kit. "obviously, i want her to talk to me, but i'd honestly just settle for knowing that she's safe."

viv placed a hand on leah's hunched shoulder, taking a seat beside the english captain as alessia rushed into the dressing room.

"leah!" she panted, holding out her phone. leah took a look at the screen. all she saw was a pin on a map of north london.

"what am i supposed to be looking at?"

"it's sim, i sent her a voice note before training, just asking if she could please just let me know she's alright and she sent me her location and leah-"

"alessia," leah said, standing up and grabbing the girl by her shoulders, "breathe."

alessia took a deep, grounding breath as prompted, before continuing in a much less frantic tone: "she sent me her location. she's really close with you and i want you to come with me to go get her."

leah nodded before pulling alessia in for a quick hug, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "get changed and meet me by my car. i'll drive."

-----

no sound is as annoying as the shrill voice of an overbearing parent at a kids' sporting event. at least, not to sim. a small voice in sim's head was genuinely impressed with how the sound carried from beside the pitch, all the way up to where she was sitting in the highest row of the bleachers.

she could hear it over the rushing wind in her ears and it made her sad to think that one of those kids on the pitch was going home with parents that cared more about winning than having fun. she wished she could rush down there and give those parents a piece of her mind.

then she remembered that she shouldn't even be here.

the last week had been a blur. sim knew it wasn't healthy to shut down the way she had, but she feared that if she didn't, she would break down. she felt pathetic. one conversation with her old uni rugby coach shouldn't have her spiraling like this.

somewhere between pretending that she was fine and missing her sport so much, sim had found herself itching to be near the game again. sat there at a random children's recreation league rugby game, she could hear the voice of her own parents in her head.

weak.

pathetic.

embarrassing.

she should never have come here. she was only hurting herself more.

it's just a stupid game. get over yourself.

caught up in her own head, sim barely registered the two women that moved to sit on either side of her. it wasn't until she felt a hand settle on her knee that sim came back to the moment.

she wasn't surprised at their presence. as much as she tried to convince herself that the only reason she had sent alessia her location was to put a stop to all the frantic messages, a small part of her secretly yearned for the comfort of her presence.

"we were worried about you, y'know," leah spoke softly.

sim shook leah's hand off her knee. "you shouldn't have been."

alessia's heart broke at the hoarseness of sim's voice and the way the younger girl seemed to shrink into herself. she wished she could show sim that she deserved to have people care about her.

she reached over and took sim's hand into her lap, intertwining their fingers before squeezing gently.

"we worry because we care about you, love," alessia spoke, voice gentle. sim ignored the way the term of endearment felt like a warm blanket of security. she refused to let herself feel anything, not wanting to break down in front of the two women she considered her closest friends.

"you don't have to talk about whatever is bothering you, but just let us be here for you," leah pleaded.

as much as sim wanted to keep her friends at a distance, she so badly craved the comfort she knew they could provide. it was something she'd always struggled with.

growing up, sim had learned very quickly to make herself as small as possible, to never be a bother or a burden. she'd learned to make herself easy to be around, easy to love.

"i don't want to bother you," sim murmured, trying her best to keep her voice level.

"babe, you could never bother me. don't know about leah, though. she's like a universal older sister. anything anyone does might annoy her," alessia said with a smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the way the corners of sim's mouth turned up.

"hey!" the skipper retorted as she reached across sim's body to smack alessia's chest.

there was a beat of silence in which sim tried to muster up the courage to actually say something. she tried to ground herself in the pressure and warmth of alessia's hand in her own, focusing on the sensation of the pad of alessia's thumb rubbing soft circles into the back of her hand.

"it was my safe space," sim finally let out.

"sorry?" leah's soft voice questioned.

"the pitch. it was my safe space," sim repeated. "it didn't matter what was going on at home, at school, or at work. when i was on the pitch, i was... free, i guess," she stated, though it came out as more of a question. she'd never tried putting it in words before, never tried to vocalize exactly how much rugby meant to her.

"when i was playing, it was like i could fly. i was good, too. i played on the youth teams for the red roses a few times. i went down two days after my first senior call up."

the confession seemed to take the wind out of sim. the hunch of her shoulders and way she couldn't seem to even lift her head up was almost pitiful.

alessia removed her hand from sim's grip, instead choosing to wrap an arm around her shoulder. alessia pulled sim into her side and squeezed, hoping to provide as much comfort as she could. she knew her words would do little to help.

alessia settled on a simple "i'm sorry, love."

"what's done is done," sim answered with a shrug.

leah's eyebrows furrowed as she frowned quizzically. "can i ask why the injury is permanent? surely they could have at least helped you walk again?"

sim sighed and leah's heart broke at the defeat painted clearly in her features.

"leah... football is your job. i know there's still a long way to go in terms of investment in the women's game, but you have to understand that the resources you have are not the same as what i had. when i got hurt, i wasn't just in school. i was working and i couldn't afford to just take time off and heal.

"i didn't even get a scan on my knee until i showed up to the next practice a week later and my coach drove me herself. i wasn't resting either. i probably made the injury worse because i had to go to work and class, so i was just taking painkillers and walking my way through things like normal. i couldn't afford to stop. and when i was waiting for surgery after the scans, i was still working. you got your surgery from a top surgeon relatively quickly. i didn't have that same luxury.

"after surgery, i didn't have time to go to all the physical therapy appointments. i was fitting in sessions at the university when i had time but it wasn't enough. i still had to go to work. between my job, the wait time for the surgery, and my non-existent rehab, i was never going to make a full recovery."

leah felt a surge of guilt after hearing sim's explanation. she had always been humble and made it a point to never take her situation for granted, but sometimes she forgot her own privilege.

"i'm sorry. i didn't-"

"you have nothing to be sorry for. it's not your fault you had better access than i did. just the way things go," sim cut her off, shrugging alessia's arm off her shoulder.

sim didn't want their pity. she didn't want them to feel bad for her.

"i know that it's been a long time now and i should be over it, i know that but-" sim cut herself off, carding a shaking hand through her hair, pulling on the strands in an attempt to ground herself.

"it's just that rugby was everything to me. it's all i had. it was the one thing i was good at, and without it i'm lost, y'know? i don't know who i am if i'm not an athlete. i'm not good for anything anymore."

sim's voice cracked on the last word, the sound like ice being dropped into hot water. it brought tears to leah's eyes to see how much sim had been struggling, how she thought so little of herself.

she gently caught hold of sim's hand, flattening it against her own thigh to stop the girl from hurting herself.

"that's not true," alessia said firmly, once again wrapping her arm around sim. "you are so much more than your injury. you're quiet, but you light up every room you walk into. you are so kind and you make everyone around you feel safe. you're funny, and thoughtful, and smart, and i think you get the point now but you're wrong if you think you're not worth anything if you can't play," alessia rambled, red rushing up her cheeks.

sim shook her head almost imperceptibly. it's not that she thought alessia was lying. that wasn't it.

how could alessia be so sure about her when she didn't even know who she was?

leah squeezed the hand still pressed against her thigh. "sweetheart, look at me," she prompted softly.

again, sim shook her head.

leah let go of sim's hand, instead placing it at the back of sim's head and using a thumb to angle it towards her own. she didn't miss the way sim's brown eyes bounced around their surroundings, refusing to land on hers for more than a second at a time.

she decided to let it slide for fear of pushing sim too hard. she'd only just gotten the younger girl to open up and was reluctant to risk another shutdown.

"it doesn't matter that you got hurt a while ago. you're allowed to feel however you feel about it. when i tore my ACL, i was a mess. i held it together on the pitch, but i was inconsolable. i was in a really dark place for quite a while. i know our situations aren't the same, but i felt lost, too. i realized that my identity as a person was tied to my performance as an athlete and it wasn't healthy. but i had beth and viv to help me out of it and i want you to let me do the same for you. less is right. you are so much more than what you can do on the pitch. and it's okay that you're feeling lost and you don't know who you are. we can find out together, yeah?"

a choked sob escaped sim's mouth, causing leah to immediately stand up in front of her, carefully pulling her head into her body.

leah didn't care that her shirt above her stomach was slowly becoming soaked with sim's tears. she let her fingers scratch gently at sim's scalp, relieved that the girl was finally letting it out.

as alessia kept a firm grip on sim's shoulder, she made eye contact with leah standing above her. a silent sense of understanding seemed to pass between the two lionesses.

they were prepared to do anything to make sure sim didn't carry her emotions on her own again. the pain they felt at seeing their friend so broken wasn't something they wanted to feel again, but they would do it over and over a million times just to make sure she wasn't alone.

-----

"so she lives!"

it was katie's turn to host the rest of the gunners for dinner this week. sim's absence from the last two team events hadn't gone unnoticed.

though sim wasn't a part of the team, they had all quickly grown accustomed to her appearance at the side of alessia, leah, and recently beth. she might not have played for the team, or even worked for them in any official capacity, but they had taken her in all the same.

sim would never be able to articulate just how much that meant to her. she went from not having any family to having found her place in two: the lionesses, and now arsenal as well.

"so where'd you run off to, anyway?" steph questioned.

"your mum's house. she says hi, by the way," sim quipped.

there was a beat of silence before a burst of raucous laughter took over katie's living room.

a playful scowl took over steph's face. "you've been spending too much time with mccabe."

[afvall]

whumptober day 6! unhealthy coping mechanisms

Wade W Wilson paints his bathroom brain-matter red then gets gay about it with cable

cw refrenced drug use and suicide (but its wade so he's fine!)

wade-typical sex jokes

--

Lord Forgive Me

--

The muzzle of his desert eagle pressed against the roof of his mouth, Wade sliding it back further in his throat, giving it a very sad blowjob. His sanity was slipping and his brain was such a hellish place to be, he’d never really known himself and he knew he never really would, because of shady government organisations and angsty childhood abuse and whatnot. The nightmares were hounding and gorey, overwhelmingly liminal and terrifying. He always felt like he was watching whatever disgusting memory (real or false) his brain had cooked up for him through a frosted window, helpless to change it yet inexplicably forced to watch. But when there were screams, his own or others, and when there was pain, and when there was blood, boy, it was graphic, it was nauseating, it was horrific, it was gross. Wade was a disgusting and dilapidated corpse of a person, one which would revel in its own filth, and he knew this all too well, but apparently even he could be disturbed, especially when it was by his own moral wrongdoings, every shitty thing he’s done. Those dreams hit him harder than blurry recounts of his own traumas.

He pulled the trigger in the way he has so many times before, and good lord, that blissful feeling was the only thing in this world that hit him like a high after so long. He’d exhausted every drug's effects on him, his healing factor got used to coke in his nose and on his gums, pills under his tongue, smoke in his lungs, liquor and smack in his veins, but death? It never got old. It was the only good thing left for him here, and he’d never be able to actualise it before his body and brain began to tug themselves together desperately, and he’d never really felt like he was either his body or his brain, so it made sense they’d go against him, much like every other thing in Wade’s life. His senses always came back slowly, being dropped back into his body one by one. The scent of iron-tinged blood stuck to the palate of his mouth alongside Nate’s vague cherubic scent, which was close to fresh laundry and almond lattes if you were wondering. Warm and heavy hands holding his marred face like it was porcelain and dried blood streaking his healing and repulsive body, the taste of morsels of his own neurons. Shooting out your own brain was never neat.

“Wade… oh, Wade…” ugh, Nate’s voice always sounded like this fantastic mix between an angelic choir and club bass, Wade felt it inside of him in a strangely erotic way as he was still coming to the world around him. Wade was where he left himself, he could see now, which was the bathroom, because cleaning blood out of carpet fucking sucked honestly.

“I'm angsting Nate… stop interrupting me” Wade grumbled, Nate moved his arms around Wade and God, i love my half metal boyfriend, i'm so ontologically evil and bad, what did i ever do to deserve him? And what evil fucked up shit did Nate do to deserve me?

“What happened?” Nate’s non-glowy eye was blue like crystal clear water staring down into white sand, reflecting every ray of sunlight from the sky above. Angelic choir and club bass just asked him a question, yes, we should answer soon.

“Bad dreams… but y’know, pshaw, had my fit about it, i'll help you clean up now!” Wade pushed his sick and sad feelings down into a little ball then shoved them deep into his stomach where they were hard for even him to find. It was getting kind of crowded in his emotional hidey-hole now. Wade began to stand up, Nate’s metal hand pressing down his hip and thigh, not letting him. Nate gave him an incomprehensible yet certainly sad look. But it wasn’t pity. Nate would have less teeth right now if the look was pity. Except, no he wouldn’t, because Wade would never hurt Nate like that, he’s already hurt too many people.

“I love you, Wade” His heart still jumps in his chest whenever Nate says that before it settles into all-encompassing comfort and quiet. That was nice too. That bliss. He supposed that that feeling, Nate’s love, was comparable to the goodness of death. Wade felt tears begin to collect in his waterline, and he tried desperately to stop them. A warm, damp hand towel which Wade hadn’t seen be telekinetically prepared pressed against his collarbones, Nate taking it from his power’s grasp with his flesh hand, metal one still sitting by Wade’s thigh. The white, fluffy fabric stained red as it was so lovingly dragged across Wade’s cancerous skin, soft fibres adoring every imperfection with Nate’s perfect hand guiding them. He looked focused as he worked, and he looked beautiful, Wade beginning to cry as his breath hitched. Nate was too gorgeous and nice to him. Fuck. he looked at Wade and he felt like an icky little bug under a microscope, then Nate sighed, moving the hand towel across Wade’s chest to his upper back, leaning in and pressing a kiss to those mangled (yet now fully healed) lips. It was closer to chaste than obscene, yet it was still wonderfully passionate and made Wade’s head spin.

“Instead of hurting yourself, next time, I want you to talk to me, alright? Please, Wade, tell me you can do that for me.” Nate spoke after disconnecting the kiss, foreheads pressed against each other. Wade was still crying, the sniffling was a bit gross really. Eugh Wade stop it he’s already accepted all your baggage and tumours we don’t know how much more he’s willing to turn a blind eye to. All Wade can really muster is a sad and pathetic sound of agreement. Pathetic!! Awesome robot boyfriend will think you’re pathetic Wade. he’s already having to wipe up all the blood and trace amounts of brain matter stuck to your skin, we’re pushing maximum levels of loser right now.

“Stop worrying, please, i want to make you feel better right now” dirty telepath . Wade huffed, sniffled again, then felt both of Nate’s arms embrace him, Wade breathing heavily and trying to stave his tears off, before accepting it and succumbing to the warbled feeling in his chest, while being held in Nate’s arms.

[sixtysixproblems]

welcome to my half-assed the chosen three are "good" au.

this is a lie of course, because only Ketheric is lawful good; Orin is chaotic neutral, and Gortash lawful neutral maybe lmao.

id say this is a fix it au but. no. not really. things are just marginally better for these 3 characters, and they do (less) warcrimes. but the Absolute is still a problem!

the new chosen three are Durge for Bhaal, Raphael for Bane, and uh. Isobel for Myrkul (I'll get to that).

basically, in tldr summary: adoption is a lovely thing and I blame Shar for everything. read more under the cut because this post is long.

Long version: Shar is responsible more actively for the shadow curse-- Ketheric stayed a paladin of Selune because Isobel doesn't die, but Justiciars still march on Reithwin and he is killed + Aylin imprisoned by Shar. I imagine Isobel only became a "follower" of Shar to try and make a deal to get Aylin back, but that failed, so she turned to Myrkul. Ketheric is revived by her/Myrkul, but earlier than Isobel was bc reasons.

anyways. he'd be around in act two, filling a similar but probably more active role to Isobel in the og plot. and him and Aylin save Isobel from Myrkul/convince her to stop because I'd be too sad otherwise

Now for Orin...Uh. Much more vague. Basically: Ketheric is a girl dad?

I've been toying with several ideas, but the one I think right now is Bhaal/Saverok was disappointed in Orin and abandoned her in the shadowlands instead of straight up killing her for some reason? Maybe they wanted to see what a shadow cursed bhaalspawn would be like, maybe it was a "she'll either toughen up or die so win win", idk. Anyways she's probably like. a toddler. three at max. because Bhaal is awfully. And freshly revived and confused as fuck Ketheric has a new daughter now. yay!

I think she'd be yoinked by the nauteloid, and sort of fill a joint tav/durge role.

anyways, onto the fucking slimy raccoon! it's his time to be yoinked by a stoic old man royalty-ish-guy! enter duke ravenguard from stage left!

I don't know the specifics, but Lawful Good TM Ravenguard trying to hold meetings-- that his feral tween foster child he stole from a devil keeps interrupting-- sounds really, really funny to me.

on a sadder note, Wyll's whole...situation. I imagine this would drive a very, very big wedge between Enver and the Duke because Enver would be inclined to believe Wyll because of his own history with Raphael. Also, I was stuck on what to do about Karlach if Enver wasn't evil-- maybe she still gets hired by Enver as a bodyguard, but Enver has her stay with Wyll while him and Ravenguard go to Elturel...So it's just her and Wyll vs the Cultists...And at some point in the fight she's somehow yeeted to Avernus...

and like! imagine how angsty it would be if Mizora sent Wyll after Karlach without telling him who she was! and the first time these besties see each other in 7 years is when one is sent to kill the other! fun times fun times.

anyways. as for what Gortash is up to. quite frankly I have no fucking idea. an idea i've been toying with is he's undercover in the absolute either on Ravenguard's behalf and/or for self preservation? and/or mindcontrolled by it to make the steel guard? or something like that? him & durge can have a "I cant fix this man, but I can fuck him. maybe that'll calm him down" dynamic lmfaoooo. he's probably still the most morally questionable.

Regardless of the specifics of what he's up to, he might have cameos or be communicating with Wyll somehow pre act three, but I think he only has a proper role then. And double regardless, with Raphael as the Bane chosen...I doubt he's having the time of his life. But he's a conniving little bastard. i'm sure he'll be fine.

anyways. meme time.

~-~-~-~-~

Halsin/Jaheira: what the fuck you're alive??

Ketheric: ...Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. Anyways my daughter's kind of evil now, and not the Bhaalspawn one--

Jaheira: We left you alone for one century. One...AND YOU HAVE A BHAALSPAWN--

Halsin: I-- You're Orin's Dad????

~-~-~-~-~

Orin: wow Wyll your foster brother is really fucking annoying and also possibly evil. and also maybe fucking my evil brother. can we kill him pretty please

Wyll: can't say I haven't had thoughts myself over the time i've known him...repeatedly... but no

Orin: :(

Karlach: If it makes you feel better Orin, you may get to knock him out

Orin: :)

~-~-~-~

Wyll: Have care how y ou speak-- Gortash may be in league with the absolute, but we don't know his reasons yet-- and he's still a Ravenguard. And my brother.

Orin: He killed 80 people in two days with his evil roombas.

Wyll: ...

Wyll: he's adopted??

~-~-~-~-~

Alternatively:

Orin: Have care how you speak-- Isobel/Durge may be a follower of Myrkul/Bhaal, but she's still of House Thorm. And my sister/brother.

Jaheira: She/he killed 80 people in two days.

Orin: ....I'm adopted.

[headcanonsandmore]

Can you do a "all the Doctors" thing with the saddest songs you know?

Okay, I had to restrict myself to just a few songs by The Smiths but here we go...

One - "4am" by The Spitfires. A feeling of hopelessness combined with a need to keep going; sound familiar?

Two- "This Joke Isn't Funny Anymore" by The Smiths. Is this too on-the-nose? Possibly. Do I care? No.

Three- "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" by The Beatles. Jo played it to them and they liked it. Also, it helped them when they were missing Jamie.

Four- "Everything Counts" by Depeche Mode. This is off vibes, but I feel that this songs disjointed nature fits Four quite well.

Five- "Slipping Through My Fingers" by Abba. Because Five had to slowly lose all their companions, feeling with each departure that they had let their companions down. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and cry...

Six - "This is How It Feels" by Inspiral Carpets. Specifically for the scene where Six is told of Peri's apparent fate.

Seven- "The Sun And The Rain" by Madness. Whimsical but also melancholic and with a sense that more is going on than meets the eye; just like Seven.

Eight- "Sky Full Of Song" by Florence + The Machine. Orchestral, with wide sweeping emotions, so fits Eight very well.

War-"Losing My Religion" by REM. It's a bit obvious but...

Nine- "Everybody Hurts" by REM. I think this fits Nine well because, while it is sad, there's a hopeful note to it, which fits Nine's later joy so well.

Ten- "Wake Me Up When September Ends" by Green Day. this is mainly on vibes. I kinda get the sense that Ten would listen to this, given they are the Doctor's adolescent cringe fail incarnation (sorry Ten I love you regardless).

Eleven- "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths. I originally thought of putting this song for Nine but the vibe fits better for Eleven. No reason again, just vibes.

Twelve- "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division. Something something losing everyone despite their best efforts something something...

Thirteen- Both "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" by the Shirelles and "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me" by Dusty Springfield. I happened to listen to both these songs while thinking about Thasmin, and I got The Big Sad from the experience. So now you all have to suffer too.

Fugitive- "Back To The Old House" by The Smiths. In their quieter moments, they like introspective and wistful songs.

TenThree/mammia mia here we go again/I'm-sorry-Mr-Tennant-I-can't-call-you-fourteen - "Broken" by Jake Bugg. Still angsty but with a less overwraught expression of it, so I think this song reflects this incarnation well.

Fifteen- "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me" by The Smiths. Specifically after the episode with Rogue.

Now, I'm going to go listen to some happy songs to cheer myself up. XD Hope you liked these choices; sorry about the delayed reply.

[ashes-writing-corner]

Alright! So I wanted to go ahead and do another part to Ghosts that We Knew! This is a follow up to the last one, but the next will kinda be its own thing. Anyway, I hope yall like ^^ it's a little shorter and less angsty than I thought it would be :)

Ghosts that We Knew

Part 5: Reconcile

Ghost had seemed to disappear. When you and Ellie came back, the apartment was cleaned, scrubbed down and sanitized of everything. They had even, rather courteously, had taken your stuff from the boxes and put them in plastic bins for easy organization and unpacking. Ellie couldn’t feel Ghost there anymore. It seemed the clean up crew had even washed him away. It saddened her. 

“Mama…where is he?” Ellie asked, looking up at you as she entered the apartment again, “I don’t see him”. 

“I don’t know sweetie. I…I’m thinking he may have moved on. Maybe he just completed his purpose”. 

Your little girl looked skeptical but seemed to understand what you meant. She went to her room, trying to get familiar with everything again. It was like moving in all over again. You stopped in front of the closet, now pristine and scrubbed down. Like Ellie, you felt like they had scrubbed him away too somehow. 

In the days following, you couldn't help but feel that a part of you was oddly lost. He was there and yet, not. Still around, just not as strong. It was a very surreal and odd feeling. The whole vibe of the apartment felt off, so you did what you normally did when you felt out of whack. 

You baked. 

This time, you worked on a loaf of banana nut bread, one of yours and Ellie’s favorites. You had hoped maybe Ghost would come again at the smells and sounds of you baking again, keeping your phone out and the communication app open in case he said something. But nothing came through on the phone, even as you waited for it to finish baking. It just felt empty all around. The apartment was tainted, despite having been cleansed, and it felt barren and cold. A part of you wondered if the cold was due to his presence, or because you just felt cold without him there. Again, it was just a really odd, sad feeling. You read a little on your phone as you waited for the banana loaf to get done, but you could hardly read the words. Something just didn’t feel right. 

You got up, and approached the closet in the hall, noting that Ellie’s door was closed. You had your phone in hand as you sat down in front of the closet. You didn't know what his fascination with that space was, but you had an idea. 

The thought of it honestly broke your heart…well it broke somebody's. You remembered as you touched the scar on your chest. "Your" heart wasn't exactly yours. You couldn't stand remembering that fact…

Pushing it to the back of your mind, you focused on the task at hand. If he was still here, this is where he'd be. 

"Ghost…if you're still here, I want you to know that it's okay. You did what you had to do and you did it to protect us. Even if we weren't home, who's to say they wouldn't have come again? I just wanna let you know that I'm not mad at you, if that's what's wrong. Yes, I was scared. Yes, I was caught by surprise. I just didn't expect to see you. I only saw you a little that first night. I wasn't expecting a full body apparition" you paused, trying to think of what to say, "if you're still here, I'm making banana nut bread. I know you can't eat it, but you mentioned you liked the smell. I'll leave a piece out for you". 

You kissed your hand and gently pressed it to the door. "And if you have moved on, well…congrats soldier, you earned it". 

You moved to stand back up to check on the loaf in the oven, leaving your phone in the hallway in front of the closet. Inside, Ghost did his best to keep quiet, definitely not a difficult feat. Sure you explained yourself, but he didn't want to risk scaring you again. Besides, he needed time to regain his strength. Possession took a lot out of him, as he imagined it did with most spirits. 

Sorry. 

At the sound of the word, you nearly dropped the loaf in the kitchen. You heard the squeak of Ellie's door, she had heard it too. The little girl sat in front of the closet. 

"Ghost? Ghosty? Are you in there?" Ellie asked. 

You were somewhat easy to resist, but Ghost had a deep soft spot for your little girl. Any time she was around something in him felt oddly alive, warm and bright. Anything she wanted, anything she asked, he gave an answer. 

Here. 

"Mama! He's here! He's back!" Ellie called excitedly. 

"I'll be there in a second, hon. Want a piece of banana nut bread?!" You asked. 

He could hear the smile in your voice. You were happy he was here, actually happy. It was beginning to feel like home again for you, and even more like home with your supernatural roommate. 

"Yes please!" Ellie called out, "don't forget one for him!"  

You were indeed smiling. "I would never forget". 

Ellie went to her room to grab a blanket and a couple pillows. She didn't want to leave her spooky friend alone in the lonely hallway tonight. Besides, sweets tasted even better when shared with friends.

"I missed you" Ellie said looking first at the phone and then the door. 

Missed you. The phone seemed to echo back. 

She smiled as you came back with slices of the fresh loaf. You sat down with your little one, setting the plate between the two of you. 

"Banana nut bread tastes the best when made fresh" you smiled, "and it's even better tonight". 

"Yum!" Ellie took a piece excitedly, loving when you made things like this. 

You pushed a piece on a smaller plate towards the closet door. Sure Ghost couldn't eat it, but at least he knew you thought of him. You watched your little one eat, a soft smile on your face. 

"Ghost…you won't leave us right? Promise?" She asked, her little voice soft. 

He took a moment to think. He was touched, Ellie wasn't afraid of him anymore, and he felt a little more complete. Ghost had no idea why he was still stuck here, but a part of him thought it was for the two of you. Whatever higher powers there were, they had finally gifted him that one thing he wanted in life but never felt worthy of: a home and a family. 

Again, he was aware of how selfish it was, but after dedicating his life to the protection of others, perhaps it was time to be a little selfish…

Never. He promised. 

He was home, and Ghost had no intention of leaving. Home was where he was staying, no matter where you and Ellie were…

If you guys enjoyed please consider liking, following, and most importantly reblogging! If you wanna be tagged for this little series, let me know ^.^ thank you and I hope your days going awesome :D

-Ash <3

[sorrelpaws]

Sorrel imma listen to each song and the playlist and give my take! I wanna see how close or off or just any feedback tbh! For funzies! LMAO The first song is JUST THE VIIIBE FOR THE SHOW OVERALL <33

YOU ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH EVERYTHING honestly im so giddy over this. I'LL PUT MORE SPECIFIC THOUGHTS under the readmore, BUT U WERE PRETTY SPOT ON DUDE!!!

arrival - totally for the vibe. Just sounds like them to me daydream in blue - originally this was more so about rick/diane and how rick (badly)copes with her loss. BUT HONESTLY your interpretations centering morty's disillusionment ARE ALSO REALLY NEAT and i cant believe i didnt think of that sooner hehe i think it might be hell - YUP!!! mostly rick song but also has some lines that work for morty them changes - ALSO WORKS FOR BOTH OF THEM!! but personally i think of it more as a rick song snake eyes - I'LL ADMIT THAT THIS is half here for the vibe, BUT ALSO yeah definitely morty at a breaking point toy plane - YESSS EXACTLY!!!! i've been plugging this as a morty song basically since i found it. Very much about the dynamic between him and rick. TO BE HONEST i've never even thought about the "though this house is unchanged" LINES BUT YOU'RE SO RIGHT. RICK POTION #9. found god in a tomato - YUPPP very much their vibe. also makes me think very much about rick and just The way he is. his whole "i'm better than everyone" shtick just - YESSS EXACTLY THIS IS LITERALLY JUST rick being an asshole 180db_[130] - YUP just here for the vibe B) everything hurts - YEAH YEAH YEAH just completely rick's angsty sad miserable life no need for a leader - actually this for me is very much an evil morty song. specifically s3e7's whole plot starstruck - YUP MORTY SONG!!! for all his hurt feelings and protests, morty still obviously looks up to rick A Lot, so while he may be mad about something, he'll still go along with whatever rick wants fifteen minutes - THEM BOTH YEAH. here for the vibe cadence - this one is just kind of Rick and Morty to me. i dont even know how to explain it, just has their vibe. BUT I LIKE your interpretation a lot!! about how morty is aware of rick's self loathing and trying to kind of help him in his own way i'm your dog - YEAH. this is the most morty song ever to me. he really wants to act like he doesnt need rick, but he's also disgustingly codependent so the moment rick needs him, he comes running back. in the yard - YES!!! huge morty song. kind of has rick potion #9 vibes again, BUT I REALLY like the idea that there's some pressure to never mess up around rick, and feeling like his family prefers each other over him who is she ? - YEAH kind of here for the vibes, but also a bit for rick and diane! i don't know, i just feel like after searching for her killer for a couple of decades she might morph into less of a person and more of just an idea running on a treadmill - HEHE YESSSS morty doing everything for ricks approval to the point he sacrifices his own comfrot barbarism begins at home - YES about rick and morty's weird abusive relationship. morty not being "good enough", rick being a terrible role model/adult presence and not knowing how to be Nice call this # now - JUST FOR THE VIBES!!!! money - THIS ONE to me is about rick wanting to be better for morty, but having a really hard time stepping out of his nihilistic-asshole comfort zone. he knows he sucks, he acknowledges it, and he really wants to be better kiss me, son of god - very much a rick song hehe. specifically im imagining him in the era where he's contributing to the citadel's creation, but there's a line here that also make me think a bit about his relationship with prime (i destroyed the bond of friendship and respect between the only people left who'd even look me in the eye) birdhouse in your soul - just Rick and Morty and their relationship dungen - another Just for The Vibe song, BUT YEAH works well as a "throwback to the "good" ol' days" interpretation too drunk to come - YEPPPP RICK SONG ALL THE WAY BABY nugget killer - i'll be honest i also have no idea what this song says or means But it just Feels like rick and morty to me. i can feel it in my bones glue - YUHHHH MORTY ABOUT RICK YEOP YEP YEP YEOP oulala - YEP rick and his whole attachment and substance abuse issues two weeks - YEAH. their whole relationship

[urmothathe2nd]

Proud of You (Obey me fic)

Also found on ao3 here

Mammon gets 100% on a test for the first time, but Lucifer is not the happy brother he was expecting

FYIs: This is a mephimon fic (mammon x mephistopheles) if you liked it you should check out my ao3 This is kind of angsty but not really Lucifer is a bit of a dick This has not been beta read

Mammon laid in his room, sprawled out on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. His test was crumpled up in the corner of his room.

He was finally passing the class, and actually got 100% on a test.

But he felt stupid.

Stupid to believe Lucifer would actually be proud of him.

He walked into the house completely confident that Lucifer would at least smile and say ‘I’m proud of you.’

But no.

Mammon was shrugged off. A sorry excuse for a ’good job’ and told to wait for supper.

He could’ve gone to any other brother, but he didn’t. He thought Lucifer would actually say something.

He knew his younger brothers would congratulate him. They always did.

But Lucifer was always unsatisfied.

He thought that maybe today Lucifer would actually tell him he did great. Give him a hug, or maybe just a pat on the back.

But no, he was ignored. Just like every other time.

Why would he go to a pride demon for a compliment anyways.

Especially one that was so much better than him. At literally everything.

His body was now shaking from silent sobs he wasn’t aware of. He involuntarily reached for his phone.

He opened an app and clicked on impulse.

FaceTiming mephi 💜…..

When did he open FaceTime?

“Mams? Why are you calling?”

He snapped out of his trance by the voice of his lover. He moved his phone closer to his face so he could see Mephisto, but Mephisto could only see his eyes and forehead.

“I don’ even know,” he sniffled.

“Why are you crying, darling?” Mephisto looked concerned and seemed to stop whatever it was he was doing.

“It’s stupid. ‘m stupid, everything is stupid,” he sighed.

“You are not stupid. I don’t like speaking with stupid people.”

“Yer jus’ sayin’ that,” Mammon rubbed his eyes. “Can-can I come over tonight?”

“Of course, do you want me to pick you up?”

Mammon shook his head.

“But can ya stay on call with me? While I get ready.”

Mephisto hummed in response and got back to whatever it was he was doing before.

Mammon stood up and propped his phone up on his dresser and began to get ready. Every now and then he’d walk out of the screen and then pop back in before walking back out again.

This was normal.

Very normal in fact.

Mammon didn’t know if Mephisto noticed, but he called whenever he was sad. Most of the time he wasn’t crying, but he didn’t feel great. Mephisto always made him feel better. Even if they weren’t speaking. The soft sound of Mephisto’s pen writing on the paper kept him calm, knowing he was right there next to him. Mammon settled for a black sweatshirt and grey sweatpants, and sprayed on a cologne Mephisto had bought him a while back.

As he grabbed his phone up again he noticed the crumpled up quiz in the corner.

He grabbed it and smoothed it out and then folded it and placed it in his pocket.

He walked out of his room and ignored Lucifer when asked where he was going. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he could care less.

He grabbed his keys and walked out, still on the phone with his boyfriend as he stepped into his car.

“Did you just ignore Lucifer?”

He looked to his screen to see Mephisto giving him a side glance.

“An’ what about it?”

Mephisto smirked a little before looking back to the papers in front of him.

“Nothing.”

Mammon started his car and drove out, noticing Lucifer standing in the doorway from the corner of his eyes.

He practically sped to Mephisto’s mansion and almost sprinted inside when he pulled into the garage. He ended the call when he opened the door and ran to Mephisto’s study. When he opened the door Mephisto stood up and he immediately engulfed the purplette in his arms.

He practically melted into his arms when Mephisto began to card his hands through Mammon's hair.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Mephisto asked quietly.

Mammon shook his head and felt a few tears fall after he realized what had just happened.

“Like I said, ‘t’s stupid.”

Mephisto chuckled lightly and squeezed Mmamon closer.

“It’s alright, I’ll listen.”

Mammon took a deep shaky sigh and stood straight up.

“Can I jus’ chill here while you work?”

“Of course,” Mephisto pressed a kiss on the Greed Avatar’s cheek.

He walked back over to his desk and Mammon plopped down on a lounge couch on the sidewall of the room. Mammon watched his lover immediately sit down and start scribbling down words on paper work. He stared for a long time, he didn’t even notice until Mephisto glanced up at him. He quickly looked away as Mephisto smirked and went back to work.

He laid back down and almost dozed off to the sound of Mephisto’s pen scraping on the paper. When he went to turn onto his side he heard the sound of paper crinkling, then he was reminded of the reason why he came. He dug out the test and held it up above his face so he could see it. He looked back over to Mephisto who was way too focused on his paperwork to notice. He felt tears prick his eyes as he remembered Lucifer’s words from before and rolled off that couch with a thud.

“Mams?”

“I’m good, don’ worry.”

Mephisto hummed and went back to work. Mammon scooched over to the side of Mephisto’s desk and held the paper up. Mephisto grabbed it from Mammon to read. Mammon laid on his back away from Mephisto’s view and couldn’t see what face Mephisto was making. He didn’t want to. He already knew he was stupid and that it meant nothing that he got 100% on anything.

“Babe, is this yours?”

The soft voice snapped him out of spiraling.

“Uh…yeah-yeah it’s mine,” Mammon stuttered.

He turned so his back was facing the desk.

“This is so good Mams, I’m so proud of you.”

I’m so proud of you.

Mammon sat up fast and looked at Mephisto, who wore a large grin. He made eye contact with Mammon and smiled even more.

“This is great! Isn’t this for the class you’re passing?”

“I- yeah…. yeah it is,” Mammon managed to let out, a small grin growing on his face.

“You’re doing so good.”

Mammon felt a wave of happiness come crashing down on him. This was much better than a compliment from Lucifer. Mammon's grin grew.

“R-really?”

“Yes!” Mephisto let out a small laugh before sinking on the floor next to him. “This is wonderful!”

Mammon was frozen in happiness when Mephisto rushed forward and gave him a hug. Mephisto leaned back and began to pepper kisses around his face.

“I’m so proud of you!”

Tears pricked the corners of Mammons eyes and he wrapped his arms around Mephisto.

“This means, so much ta me, babe, ya don’t even know,” Mammon pulled Mephisto closer into a hug.

Mephisto hummed and chuckled, carding his hand through Mammon’s hair. “Was this why you were so upset?”

Mammon nodded, burying his face in Mephisto’s chest. Mephisto chuckled before placing a kiss on top of his head.

“You are doing so great, no matter what anyone says, I’m always so proud of you.”

Mammon sniffled a bit. “Even when I run my account inta the negatives?”

Mephisto lightly pinched his arm, chuckling lightly. “Now you’re pushing it.”

Mammon giggled, sighing in content before nuzzling further into Mephistos chest.

The two sat wrapped in each other for what felt like centuries before migrating to a large bedroom and falling asleep. The test was later found framed in Mephisto’s office, causing Mammon to go red in the face.