#moths are ever so slightly more acceptable. slightly

[rikublivion]

Dysphania Militaris—more commonly known as the 'False Tiger Moth'—is often mistaken for a butterfly due to its bright colours.

[maybe-im-dark]

Rugged choices

Logan stepped into the dusty secondhand clothing store, his eyes scanning the racks of well-worn shirts and faded jeans. The air inside was heavy with the familiar scent of old leather and aged fabric, the kind of smells that always put him at ease. Without hesitation, he made a beeline for the racks, already flipping through the clothes as if he had been here a hundred times before.

Wade, however, came to a sudden stop just inside the door, looking around in bewilderment, his arms thrown out wide in exaggerated confusion.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Wade exclaimed, his voice bouncing off the walls of the cramped store. “Logan, we just got handed a stack of TVA-cash the size of a small country’s GDP, and this is where you want to spend it? A secondhand store?”

Logan didn’t bother looking up from the rack of flannel shirts he was flipping through. He pulled one out, a red-and-black plaid that had clearly seen better days, and held it up, his nostrils flaring slightly as he sniffed the fabric.

“Don’t like the smell of new stuff,” Logan muttered, tossing the shirt over his arm. “Chemicals. Hurts my nose.”

Wade blinked, his brain working to process Logan’s explanation. Slowly, he nodded in acceptance, though his bewilderment was far from gone.

“Huh. Okay, that actually makes sense. Super senses and all.” Wade paused, then threw his arms out again in an exaggerated gesture. “But come on, man! You could be rocking designer leather jackets, limited edition jeans, silk boxers—the whole nine yards!”

Logan ignored him, already pulling another flannel shirt from the rack, this one in muted blue and green. He sniffed it, grunted his approval, and added it to the pile in his arms. It wasn’t long before the pile grew to include several more flannels in different colors, along with faded jeans and plain white undershirts.

Wade watched with a growing smirk as Logan’s choices all started to blend into a singular aesthetic.

“So we’re just committing fully to the lumberjack aesthetic, huh?” Wade teased, leaning on a nearby rack. “Maybe pick up an axe while we’re at it, chop some wood, live in the woods, grow an even bigger beard. Real 'I’m-going-off-the-grid' vibes.”

Logan stopped rifling through the clothes just long enough to glare at Wade, his patience visibly thinning.

“Better than prancing around in pink Hello Kitty shirts and leggings two sizes too tight,” Logan shot back, his voice low and sharp as he pointed at Wade’s current outfit—a ridiculous hot pink Hello Kitty tee and a pair of black leggings that left nothing to the imagination.

Wade, ever the showman, grinned beneath his mask and struck a pose.

“Touché, Logan,” he said with a wink. “But I make this work. Not everyone can pull off this level of hotness.”

Logan rolled his eyes, grabbed his pile of clothes, and headed toward the checkout without another word. Wade followed close behind, still grinning like a kid who had just gotten away with something.

A little while later, they found themselves walking through the sunlit car dealership lot. Logan moved with the same deliberate focus he had shown in the clothing store, his eyes scanning the rows of cars with little interest. To him, they all seemed impractical, too flashy for his tastes.

Wade, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement as he raced ahead, his eyes zeroing in on a sleek, cherry-red sports car parked under the sunlight. He darted toward it like a moth to a flame, throwing himself over the hood with a dramatic sigh.

“THIS ONE!” Wade shouted, running his hands over the smooth surface of the car. “This is it! The Wade-mobile! Look at her, Logan—pure power, pure speed. A sexy beast, just like me!”

Logan stood a few paces away, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with mild disdain. He shook his head, his voice flat and unimpressed.

“You look like an idiot,” Logan said.

Without hesitation, he walked over and grabbed Wade by the back of his collar, yanking him off the car with a gruff grunt. Wade stumbled, barely managing to stay upright as Logan dragged him away, heading straight for the section of the lot where the used pickup trucks were parked.

“Come on, man, live a little!” Wade complained, rubbing the back of his neck as he followed Logan. “We’ve got all this cash, and you’re going for a pickup truck? You’re not a soccer mom.”

Logan’s eyes landed on an old, battered truck with faded paint and a few dings in the side. It looked sturdy, reliable—just the way he liked things. He opened the driver’s side door, inspecting the interior with a thoughtful grunt. The worn leather seats, the lack of fancy electronics—everything about it spoke to him.

“I don’t buy what I don’t need,” Logan said, running his hand over the dashboard. “This has enough room, no fancy electronics. Just how I like it.”

Wade looked utterly flabbergasted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“But… sports cars! Leather seats! Bluetooth everything! Cup holders that hold more cups than you could ever drink from!”

Logan gave him a flat look.

“This does the job. I’m not gonna buy something I’ll hate driving,” Logan said, his tone final.

Wade slumped against the truck, his head hanging in defeat.

“You’re like… an old man stuck in a body that’s technically old but still kinda jacked,” Wade muttered, sulking. “It’s such a waste. This truck screams 'I live in a cabin and don’t talk to people.'”

Logan ignored him and went into the building to buy the car. Wade waited outside, shooting the sports car longing looks. After a while his partner came back.

Logan climbed into the driver’s seat, his movements efficient and calm. The truck’s engine growled to life with a low, rumbling purr, and Logan smirked just a little as he looked over at Wade.

With a resigned sigh, Wade hopped into the passenger seat, his pink Hello Kitty shirt standing out like a sore thumb against the muted, rugged interior of the truck.

“You and your cabin-man aesthetic… Whatever,” Wade muttered, leaning back in his seat. “Just know, when I get my sports car, you’re driving behind me. And I’ll make sure it’s painted Wolverine yellow, just for you.”

Logan didn’t bother responding, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pulled out of the lot, the old truck rumbling steadily beneath them. Wade, never one to be silent for long, leaned over conspiratorially.

“Next stop, Taco Bell? My treat,” Wade offered.

Logan remained silent, eyes on the road, but Wade took it as a yes.

“That’s the Logan I know and tolerate,” Wade said with a grin.

As they rumbled down the road in the beat-up old truck, Wade continued to chatter away about the missed opportunity of getting a sports car, but Logan was content. Simple, reliable—that’s all he needed. And maybe, just maybe, some peace and quiet.

But with Wade sitting beside him, that last part was a long shot.

[fatkish]

Can you do some headcanons of Fat Gum, Ryuukyu and Sir Nighteye taking custody of a teen reader who is a reformed villian/vigilante.

Fatgum, Ryukyu, and Sir Nighteye x. Reformed Villain/Vigilante Teen Reader

Fatgum:

You grew up among villains since your parents were villains, they never really taught you right from wrong and kinda neglected you

You mostly just stole in order to survive, taking only what you needed and nothing more

One day you stole but got cornered by none other than Suneater, with little to no choice, you used your quirk to phase through him but ran right into Fatgum, literally

You got stuck in his fat but after you passed out, he realized just how skinny you were

He took you to the hospital and was upset to find that not only were you severely underweight and slightly malnourished, but your parents had been arrested leaving you to fend for yourself

He decided that moment that he would take you under his wing, he’d teach you right from wrong and give you whatever you needed to get on the right path

When you woke up and he told you it was either go with him or juvenile detention, you happily chose him

The first thing he did was bring you food and help you get to a healthy weight

Once that was done, he began to help you with learning to live normally and even helped you learn how to make friends at your new school, Shiketsu Academy

As your life began to change and become more normalized, you thanked Fatgum who decided to adopt you since you needed an active and actual parental figure in your life

From that day on you happily accepted your new dad and the two of you became family

You would try to cook all kinds of different foods and you both would try them, sometimes you made a great dish and other times… well, you believed in not wasting food but that ended up with you in the hospital from having food poisoning so…

You began to have a passion for cooking and would become a great chef all thanks to your dad

Ryukyu:

You were an anti-hero. You did what was necessary to keep others safe and would even kill to protect the innocent

You were skilled in combat and were pretty decent with the use of your quirk

One day you cornered a particularly nasty villain and had nearly managed to take them out but suddenly you were both shot at

You saw a couple heroes and tried to escape only to be confronted by Ryukyu

You tried to escape but after Ryukyu decided to transform, your battle was over

Since you technically had yet to kill, but had incredible skill, the HPSC hoped that you could be reformed into a hero

So they decided that you would be placed in the care of Ryukyu

At first, you tried to sneak out only to get caught every time, you’d constantly argue with Ryukyu on morals and rules, saying that some were stupid and that others needed revision

When Ryukyu saw how you viewed society, she discovered that you weren’t necessarily wrong, but you could definitely go about things in a better way

She decided to help you find a better way to make the changes you wanted to make in society but in legal ways only

As you both grew to have a mutual understanding and respect for one another’s views and values, you decided that she wasn’t so bad and accepted her

As that happened, she too, accepted you and you both became extremely close, almost like family

After that, you would go on to become one of the best underground heroes ever

Sir Nighteye:

Reader was an Orphan and a vigilante who used their own gear that they designed to catch criminals

You never used your quirk on criminals since that would be breaking the law and you didn’t want to get in trouble for that

You had created small devices that were a disguised as bugs like dragonflies and butterflies/moths. You made them contain small cameras and have tracking devices in them

These devices would fly around and would be able to attach small trackers to people or things when they land on them

You used these spy flies to help you with your vigilante work, you’d track criminals to places and use your technology to apprehend them and then alert the police to come and get them

You made sure to wear a mask and hide your identity, you also didn’t leave your technology behind for heroes to find and repurpose or mess with since your creations were precious to you

The Nighteye agency had been investigating your work and were trying to apprehend you but you kept evading them

One day, Sir Nighteye used his quirk on a suspected criminal and foresaw you apprehending them and decided to set up a trap for you

You followed the suspect to an abandoned warehouse where he and his supposed associates were hiding. Only to be caught by the Nighteye agency

When Sir Nighteye saw how young you really were, he decided that your talents would be wasted in Juvenile Detention and that you had a bright future ahead of you, granted, that you stayed on the right path

When Nighteye found out that you had been rescued by All Might as a child when your parents had died in an apartment building’s collapse, he saw how much you admired All Might

When you told him that All Might is an older hero and that he’s bound to retire eventually and that you feared for that day and that’s why you became a vigilante, he knew that you were a good kid and just needed a helping hand to get you on the right path in life

So he decided to take you in and teach you how to become a hero and although he may be strict and seem like a scary and intimidating guy, you both bonded over your admiration for All Might

When you showed him and had explained to him all your technology and how it works, he was curious as to why you weren’t in a hero school in a support course, you explained to him that your orphanage didn’t have the funding to send you to a hero school, which is why you had no other choice but to become a vigilante

After that, he decided to use his connections to enroll you in UA’s support course, to which you thanked him endlessly and hugged him calling him your hero. After that, he also adopted you and became your legal guardian

In time, you and your new friend Mei Hastume would become partners and become two of that century’s greatest technological creators and you both would go to live on I-Island

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE IV

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

series masterlist

chapter summary: You have a much needed heart to heart with the strongest.

warnings: mentions of death and injury, mention of major character death, slightly suggestive content (16+)

content: hurt/comfort, reverse hurt/comfort, fluff, slight cringe?

word count: 9k

I recommend rereading the previous chapter(s) because even I forgot some details...1000000% my bad for not finishing this up sooner. (More on this in notes at the end).

Okay I'd say the romantic scenes are like...16+? just to give it a rating. But lowkey some YA novels I read in middle/early high school were a lot more 'racey' than this hahah.

It’s dark, darker than the back of your eyelids. It’s silent. You can’t even hear the buzz of your thoughts—as if your mind is reflecting the emptiness in front of it. The blackness before you—the void, you suppose—is all you can see, hear, touch. Or maybe it’s that there is the absence of these senses—there is only darkness, only nothingness.

You can’t think, only observe, so when a bright light inundates your senses, sears itself into the back of your brain, you don’t gasp or feel fear. There is nothing to do but to take in the light, to be drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and accept whatever it brings you.

Memories pour over you as you are blinded by the light, dripping into crevices of your mind that you forgot existed. It’s almost painful, this influx of distant memories and feelings, rhythmic waves which crash into you over and over again.

All you can pick out of these memories as they spill into your brain all at once is a pair of luminescent eyes—they burn brighter than you ever realized. They follow your form more than you remember. Even behind shades, you can feel the intensity of them on your body. You sneak glances at them at every turn and get lost in them even when he isn’t facing you. You never knew how obvious you both were.

You never realized how much emotion he held in his gaze. He knew all the time, and yet you were clueless about your own feelings until just months ago. How ironic, how cruel...

Your eyes fly open. Reality slowly fills your senses. There's a gentle brush of wind from the open window; you scrunch your nose as strands of your hair tickle your face. When you look down, your gaze is drawn to the wash of orange and peach on the comforter cast from the dying sun. You're warm—cozy, even. You feel comfortable and safe—safer than you’ve felt in a long time, a feeling that blankets you with warmth and coaxes a smile out of you.

You blink blearily, sleep sticking to your eyes despite your attempt to rub the crud away. The ceiling finally comes into focus, and you vaguely recognize that it doesn't look like your own.

"Finally awake, sweets?"

For a second, you're startled by the inrush of sound and words, but then your brain catches up. The voice carries that familiar teasing lilt, that smirk that even comes through in his voice, the words rounded with softness just for you, it must be—

Your eyes go wide as you scramble up. "Satoru!"

"So I really didn't have to kiss you for you to wake up? Boooo! All those fairy tales are a real drag, lying to me like that."

Your gaze goes straight to him, taking in his appearance with a quiet desperation. Many dormant thoughts from right before you lost consciousness surge back into your mind: he had been harmed while trying to escape with you? Was he distressed by what happened? Was it all too much for him?

But, to your observation, he looks as he always does. There's no sign of injury or emotional distress. You should've known, really; with everything he's gone through in his life, he isn't easily affected. Or at least, not outwardly. His little smirk, his tousled hair, his lax demeanor—from a quick glance, he's the same as always. He doesn't appear worried or stressed with his easy expression—you don't know if you should be relieved or unnerved by that. Is what you see the truth or just a façade?

He has a chair pulled up to your bedside—taken from the desk on the other side of the room, you note—and he sits relaxed in it. He sinks into the chair lazily and he has one leg crossed over the other.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” He sing-songs. “Or should I say good evening?”

He shifts slightly, now resting his jaw in one open hand, which outlines his sharp jawline. His head is tilted to the side, making him appear almost coy. It must be a ruse, of course—when did Gojo Satoru ever feel shy?

Seeing as it's only him and you're in no danger, you huff out in relief, "You startled me!"

"Did I? Sorry." He chuckles, even though he doesn't sound particularly sorry. It's then that you notice he's wearing his bandages again. The white strips conceal his expressive eyes and all the emotions they could possibly contain. A hazy flash of his eyes spilling with tears crosses your mind, leaving you to wonder if that was reality or just your imagination. Your memories are fuzzy, lacking clarity that would reveal the truth.

Observing him now, it almost seems impossible that he could have cried like that for you. He appears so normal that it's almost frightening. With his practiced and controlled body language, you're only able to wonder at what he's feeling.

You want to ask him so many questions, but they all feel trapped inside your chest. There's so much that you don't know—there are so many things that could have happened after you lost consciousness. With how deceptively easy his smile is, you hesitate. Or maybe it's because, deep down, you don't want to know the answers.

But you should. You should know. No, you need to know, if the monstrous, looming question needling your brain and heart means anything. If you don't get this question out, the hurt and uncertainty will only fester.

"What happened with Suguru?"

His smile evens out slowly, expression morphing into something solemn and unreadable.

"Always asking the difficult questions first..." He says, tone ambiguous and revealing close to nothing. "You just woke up. Why don't we... talk about something else? I promise we'll get to everything later. Just give it some time—Shoko said you should try to take it easy when you first wake up."

There's a painful lump in your throat. You want to argue that can't possibly be what she meant, but when the room starts to spin, blurring in your peripherals, you find he might have a point. Besides, there's the reality that it's easier not to know, that you don't want to know.

"How do you feel?" He asks, as if sensing your inner turmoil, but you don't know if he's referring to your physical or mental state.

Without the answer to your question, you're okay. It's strange, but you don't feel scared despite what happened. If anything, you feel lighter and happier than you have in a long time. He's here, after all. And so you relent easily, with little resistance. You'll play in the world of pretend for a bit if it means he'll smile, if it means you'll feel okay.

"I'm fine," You say honestly, with a small smile. "Just a bit sore, if anything."

When you're met with silence, you glance over at him, noticing that his serious look has not faded. Maybe you weren't so convincing. You quickly redirect your attention to your surroundings, not wanting to be caught in your thoughts.

“Isn’t this…” You take in the room, ignoring how sore and tired your eyes are. “Your place?”

Now that you're sat up, you recognize it immediately, even with its less than distinct features. His room is plain, plainer than most would anticipate. For someone so loaded, his bedroom screams basic minimalist—white with black accents, just a few pieces of furniture, and muted decor. It’s nice, because of course it is with his budget, but not over the top like his personality would suggest.

“Hah, you noticed, huh? Perceptive as always, angel,” He says with a hint of playful sarcasm, and you’re surprised when the teasing quality disappears and his tone turns meek. “You haven’t been here in a while, wasn’t sure if…”

He trails off, laughing oddly, some real emotion leaking out. He almost seems nervous.

“If I’d remember? What, do you think I’m a goldfish or something?” You roll your eyes playfully. “Satoru, I’ve been here many times. Even though I haven’t been here in a while, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t remember.”

“Don't get your panties in a twist! Of course I knew you'd remember! I was just kidding," He claims, but he seems relieved.

"Hmm, sure," You say with narrowed eyes. "By the way, why am I here? Not that I mind or anything, but..."

"Ah. You mean instead of your apartment?"

"Or the infirmary," You add.

"Well, you were in the infirmary. Then you got better and Shoko needed an extra bed, so she kicked us out. And as for your apartment...it isn't in any condition to be lived in for now."

You frown and whine, "Hey! I'm not that messy!"

He hangs his head and sighs, "Angel, that's really not what I meant. There are other things that need to be cleaned up there."

"Oh," You say, finally remembering the gruesome scene you must have left.

"Yeah. 'Oh'," He mimics back.

He almost seems annoyed—at what, you can't be sure. The fact that you forgot or the fact that it happened? Or was it that you kept it all a secret for so long?

You shake your head slightly as if to rid yourself of these unpleasant thoughts. Then you process some of his words from earlier, displacing the negative thoughts.

"Wait, wait. What do you mean Shoko kicked 'us' out?"

He scratches his head sheepishly. "Did I say that? I meant you. Haha..."

You chuckle and slap your leg, thoroughly amused by the scenario you're picturing. "I see what happened here! Shoko got annoyed that you were hanging around all day today and needed some way to get rid of you. She literally sent you home, didn't she?

There's a pause. He looks down at his hands and lets out a small, breathy laugh. There's something sharp about it, bitter perhaps. His fingers are twitching. His reaction jars you slightly, veering from the upbeat, nonchalant character he's kept up so far.

"Today, huh?" He murmurs under his breath, too soft for you to pick up. Then he speaks loud enough for you to hear, "Something like that."

His words aren't too far off what they usually are, but his smile and light tone have been washed away.

"Did I say something wrong?" You ask carefully. "Is everything okay?"

He barks out a laugh right away. It's a harsher sound than it usually would be, full of disbelief as if he couldn't believe you just asked him that.

"After everything you just went through, you're asking me if everything's okay?"

You hesitate but persist. "...Yes? Can I not ask?"

He exhales loudly, his frustration and concern boiling over. His expression is neutral, but you don't miss the hard set in his jaw or the way he twitches from the tension of steeling his expression. His face hardens as if he's trying to hold back, but it doesn't last much long. As you closely watch his expression, you see the hairline fractures in his mask begin to spiderweb into something irreparable, to reveal a part of himself he can't take back. His heart is on his sleeve, and you greedily take it all in.

"You can, but— you seem fine and it's confusing me. I'm supposed to be strong for you and just get over it, but I can't see past the fact that I still don't understand what the fuck is going on. Everyone except Shoko was acting like everything was fine and normal before but now it— it's like they're not even surprised. How is it that I'm the most shocked? Even you, who this happened to..."

As he speaks, his words get more agitated and emotion seeps into his voice. He trails off at the end, leaving you to wonder what exactly he thinks of your reaction.

"You...feel that way?" You ask honestly, surprised by his admission. Based on his appearance and how he carries himself, most would be shocked. And even though you suspected something was brewing underneath his carefully crafted mask, even you didn't anticipate this.

"Yes! I just...this is strange, everything is. And even though it all happened to you, you're acting so okay and have been since I first saw you again. Do you know how much I—"

He takes a sharp breath as his emotions boil his insides. His throat tightens and the next words don't come out, won't come out, even though he wants to articulate how he's been driven mad with worry for you, that he's been falling apart while your life hung in the balance of fate. And yet he can't; the words won't come.

You dip your head in shame. It's not difficult to fill in the words he might have said, but you don't attempt to.

"Well, I guess it's like...I've been living like this for a while. But you only just learned of my Hanahaki disease and had to deal with it right away," You explain quietly. "I've had a while to process it, y'know? But for you, of course it would be hard to believe..."

While you speak, his face twitches as he reacts to your words, hardening and then grimacing. He sets his mouth in a firm line before he speaks.

"It's not just that. You've been sitting on so many secrets and I had absolutely no idea about any of them. And hell, based on my actions it seems like I didn't care to know, and I hate that. I can't be upset with you, and I'm not, but- just the entire situation...I can't stop feeling so...frustrated."

"...I understand," You say softly. "It wasn't right of me to hide it for so long...and if it had ended any differently, you'd be burdened with guilt even though it wouldn't have been your fault. Obviously, I was not in the right state of mind, but that doesn't make it right."

"That's not what I mean. You had every right to do what you did. I don't blame you," He says, then sighs. "Honestly, I've...been thinking. A lot."

Your heart drops. His tone is different than you've ever heard before. There's some mysterious emotion you detect but can't identify, and your mind starts to run wild to diagnose it. Is it irritation? Doubt? Regret?

"Thinking?" You echo back nervously. "That's dangerous for you."

Your joke falls flat; it doesn't so much as coax a smile or even an acknowledgement from him. That only makes you more nervous.

"I've been thinking about how this all happened, how fucked up it is that it was able to happen. I never imagined this situation, not in a million years. I've spent so long running from my feelings that I never imagined we’d reach this point. But how it happened..."

His meaning sinks in, even though he only alludes to your shared confession, as if it would burn him to speak those words again. You understand what he means: right now, you should both be happy. You both confessed after years of misunderstanding and yearning. But when you look to him, scouring his face for answers, all you can notice are the down-turned corners of his mouth. He doesn't look happy.

You think back to previous disagreements you’ve had. No matter what was said, it always ended up the same: his back facing you, his form receding into the distance. You were always able to eventually pull him back to you, but the image of his back has never left your mind. Is this the time where you lose your grip on your tie to him, the time where he finally disappears into the horizon?

Your thoughts bleed into your mouth without permission.

“Are you walking away?” You ask quietly before you can stop yourself.

“What?”

The word is pushed out of his lungs with so much speed and air that he has to take a breath immediately after. It has a sharp edge of something akin to anger, which you did not expect.

Suddenly, you feel very silly. You realize you just jumped to massive conclusions, because of course you have. You know this, you know you're not being rational, and yet your doubt persists.

You stutter, scrambling for words that seem to vanish just as you think them.

“You seem– I mean, what you just said...I’m sorry, I don’t know, it's just…you seem so hesitant and conflicted. It should have been a moment happy, right? But it was all fucked up and was forced on you...if you didn't do what you did, I would have–agh, fuck. I know I’m probably being stupid, but…if you’ve changed your mind, I-I can live with that—actually, no, that’s a lie, this whole situation proved I can’t—”

A choked laugh escapes between the fingers you’ve thrown to your mouth. It’s ridiculous how you’re laughing about your mortality—your life that was hanging on by a thread, a thread that was somehow woven back into existence.

“I mean I can’t change how you feel, obviously, and if you want to walk away then I can’t stop you, I’ll leave you with a nice bouquet at least—”

You hesitantly move your gaze over to him. He’s pale and his hands grip the sides of the chair tightly.

“Sorry.” You whisper out once you see his expression.

You thought he might find some humor in it—after all, he is practically the king of levity. Almost any situation that should be taken seriously and treated carefully and with respect is disregarded by him. And yet there is not a hint of a smile on his face now; you were sorely wrong in your assumption.

“No more of those," He shakes his head as he speaks, as if that will wipe away the images of your near lifeless body from his mind. "Please no more. To be honest…it really destroyed me, to see you like that.”

His words shake you to your core, alarm vibrating through your body. It destroyed him?

Your brain begins to connect dots you don't want to connect: the purpose of inducing your illness...the purpose of using you as bait. If seeing you like that almost broke him, was that the purpose?

You brush away these horrifying thoughts as best as you can, trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. You don't want to know, you don't want to know. You're suddenly grateful that Gojo didn't answer your question earlier.

So you sit silently as your features scrunch with guilt. To hear him practically beg you tugs at your heart painfully.

"You really think I want to walk away?" He asks quietly, vulnerably.

Your mouth opens and closes as you consider what to say, which words to pick out. None of them sit right on your tongue.

"No, I mean...I don't know. I forced this on you, so–"

"You didn't," He raises his head towards you, and you can imagine his gaze falling on you. "I don't want you thinking that. You didn't, okay? You should have never gotten sick in the first place. If only I came to terms with my feelings sooner...It didn't have to happen like this, and I'm so sorry that it did."

The tension in your body begins to dissolve as it dawns on you that he doesn't regret his actions, only the situation that induced them. And yet, it still rubs you the wrong way that he blames himself.

"It still feels wrong..." You frown. "Like it was some shitty last resort. Either you reciprocate my feelings or I die. Like, how manipulative is that?"

"Manipulative? You're seriously worried about that? Some people might call that romantic," Gojo scoffs playfully.

"I'm being serious!" You pout.

Irritatingly, he smiles sweetly. "So am I!"

"Nuh-uh, I don't believe you. What do you really think?"

He falls quiet, but his smiles stays. That persistent smile, or really smirk, that stretches across his face no matter the situation. It's just part of his show, of his ever-present façade. And yet...

"Hah... You're the only one who ever cares to know."

You roll your eyes at his dramatics. "That can't be true."

He raises his eyebrows slightly, and you feel his piercing gaze without even needing to see his eyes. His tone is light again, but his insinuation isn't.

"Do you think Yaga and the higher-ups really care about what I think? They only listen to me because they're scared of me. And when it comes to my...feelings...do you really think anyone thinks of that? It's like I don't have any."

You shake your head stubbornly. "Not to me."

He laughs softly, "Yeah, I know sweets. I've never had anyone challenge me about them the way you do."

"Well, how else am I to know?" You ask meekly, slightly embarrassed. "I know you have them, you just...don't speak on them unless I wrangle them out of you!"

He chuckles, "Sure."

"It's true! You still haven't really told me what you honestly think about... everything. There's got to be more."

He sighs, but you can tell he's amused at your insistence. "You really want to know?"

You nod earnestly.

"It's probably pretty pathetic."

"Then be pathetic," You say, perfectly serious. "You think I'll judge? After I pitied myself terribly for weeks for—I guess now—no reason?"

Your gaze is sharp and features hardened with determination, and yet all Gojo can think is how soft you are. Your eyes are bright, full of affection and hope and something else he doesn't dare put a name to, even though you already confessed it to him. He feels so fucking pathetic for the way he doesn't allow himself to feel your love even when it's sitting right in front of him. He feels so pathetic for the way he's been avoiding saying those three words again, for how the words get stuck in his throat and don't let his true emotions pass through.

He steels himself, trying not to ignore how the words echo through his mind like have they have been this entire conversation.

"I've always thought that l-...lo..." He swallows, his face burning red with shame that he can't even utter that word. "Love is a curse. Because isn't it? It almost... it almost killed you. You were closer to ...death then, than I'd ever seen you. And yet, in some fucking twisted way, maybe I needed that push. If that didn't happen...would I have ever told you?"

Each time he references your near-death state, his face crumples as if he's trying to hold back tears. It's then you realize that he doesn't allow himself to cry in front of you, or maybe in front of anyone.

"It's like the universe forced me to finally confess, after all these years. And still...still it's so hard to-" He sighs, brow furrowing in frustration. "To say what I mean. To say what I really want to say. It's kind of pathetic, isn't it?"

You smile softly and turn the hand closest to him so that your palm faces the ceiling. It skates over the sheets until it reaches over in his direction, enough so that he notices but not so far that he would feel obligated—it's for him to take or leave.

In another moment, you would burst out laughing at how absurdly fast he rushes forward to take it. But in this moment in time, you let your heart sing and your body feel warm everywhere.

For Satoru, this physical connection to you has significantly lowered his barriers. His mask slips even more, his persona waning in a way that makes him feel so exposed. Feeling you again makes him keenly aware of everything he almost lost.

"Actions speak louder than words. Didn't you come for me?"

"I was almost too late," He insists, voice cracking. "You were almost too far gone."

"But you came, and I'm here with you now. Everyone has their struggles, Satoru. Everyone. And it's not like I was brave enough to tell you, either."

He sighs, a shuddering sound you're not familiar with coming from him. "I don't feel like I'm supposed to have weaknesses like this."

"You're human," You say softly. "At the end of the day, we're all just human. You, me, and everyone else."

His face softens and his thumb absently traces the back of your hand.

"But I want to. I want to tell you everything, everything that...everything that I feel about you. I've always felt so much for you. There's so much I want to tell you, but..." He swallows. "It all gets stuck."

Your stomach flutters at his words. Now you feel so silly for asking him if he was going to walk away, because you feel all of his words so deeply. He's so sincere that it makes your heart skip a beat, knowing he thinks and has thought of you like this for a long time. You even feel giddy at his words, despite the situation.

"And that's okay. Do you think I can't feel that from you by now?" You reassure. "You don't even need to say anything. You never have."

Satoru shakes his head with some amusement, a small smile forming on his lips. He sighs and regards you with a disbelieving expression, as if he can’t believe your words. "God, the bar is in hell."

You can't help but erupt into laughter. "Satoru! Hey! You're ruining the momeeent!"

"Sorry," He smiles, and then his tone dips into something that has your insides stirring. "Am I really? Should I make it up to you, then?”

He leans over the edge of the bed more, and you're suddenly aware of how close he is to you. His elbows rest on the top of the mattress, near your thigh, and his head rests in his hands. He's looking up at you—you can just tell—and you feel jittery under his invisible yet ever-present gaze.

There's electricity in the air: the underlying tension has heightened, and even the brush of his hand against yours has your breath hitching. Your eyes fall to his lips—they look so soft, and such a pretty pale pink, and look so inviting—

Your eyes snap back to the rest of his face once you realize what you were doing. Your face is burning and you hope you weren't caught, but unfortunately it seems that may have been the case.

He rises from his seat slowly, with control, and sits on the edge of the bed. Wanting to be closer, you instinctively start to sit up fully, but you surprise at a gentle push at your shoulders, reducing you to resting on your elbows.

"Eager, are we?" He grins. "Did you forget that you're supposed to be resting?"

"Ugh! You– ! Shut up! I wasn't trying to do anything!" You say indignantly.

"Mmm, doesn't mean I can't though, right?" He says. "Like you said, actions speak louder than words..."

He pauses a few inches from your face. One of his hands gently brushes against your jaw and cheek while the other slides down your neck, causing you to tremble under his touch. He's clearly enjoying every second of this.

"Your face is warm, sweets."

"Shut up! No it's not!" You groan and cover your face with your hands, not able to bear the embarrassment. In the process, you brush his roaming hands away.

"Aww, don't do that," He coos, but isn't able to keep the laughter out of his voice. "Who said it was a bad thing?"

"Don't tease me," You whine, but slowly release your hands from your face.

"But I've missed it so muchhh," He sighs dramatically. "I've been deprived."

You deadpan. "That's your own doing."

"Harsh, sweetheart!" He winces. "But it's the truth, isn't it? I intend to make it up to you...make up for lost time."

The distance between you shrinks further. Your proximity is dizzying, unfamiliar and heart-racing and daunting and yet also so safe. A safe space carved out of nothing, comfort from the cold and unforgiving world you live in.

His fingers are on your face again, gently framing your jaw and chin, as if steadying you, as if he's going to...

"This is what I most regret not doing that day," He admits quietly.

"What do you mean?" You ask dumbly, thoughts muddled by this heat between you, as if you don't know exactly what he's doing.

"Before you fell unconscious," He says. "While you were...'in limbo', as Shoko put it, I wondered if I would ever be able to..."

Your heart beats quickly in your chest, making your breathing shallow. He leans in, fingers ghosting over your features and causing your eyes to flutter shut. You feel butterflies flitting around in your stomach; you're full of nerves, but also brimming with desire and yearning.

You gasp softly when his lips meet yours. Your hands immediately get lost his hair, fingers tugging gently on his soft strands. He kisses you deeply, so passionately that you fall back completely in surprise. It brings him down with you, but one of his arms frames your head and is the only thing that kept his body from collapsing onto yours.

"...to kiss you like this." He finishes breathlessly.

You thought he might make a joke about you falling for him, or about you wanting to be under him, but he allows the moment to be what it is. Intimate, close, vulnerable.

You circle your arms around his neck, pulling him down while you rise you, you closing the gap this time. Feelings that laid undisturbed for years now pour out all at once and you can't seem to catch your breath—or maybe that's because you don't want to let go of this moment.

You pull away slowly, hesitantly, your eyes never leaving his face. But something is missing.

You wordlessly reach for his bandages with tentative fingers. You tug at them gently, allowing time for him to protest, but he doesn't. He lets you take away the last protection he has, to peel away the last barrier to his emotions.

Your eyes begin to sting once the bandages fall away. A surge of emotions run through you, and you can't suppress your smile at the sight of his eyes at last. You have often compared them to the gems aquamarine and sapphire, but they shine brighter and more brilliantly than any jewel. You want to cry just looking at them—his glittering eyes that are consumed by emotion, full of affection and warmth and love, so much love.

"I love you." You whisper, reflecting what you see, overcome with emotion.

You're not expecting anything back, and truthfully you don't need any words to know his feelings. The emotion shimmering in his kaleidoscopic eyes is enough. You've never observed them this closely before, or for so long, and with each passing second their beauty intensifies.

He lowers himself a few inches lower yet, so close you can practically feel the warmth radiating from him.

It's soft and watery, but you hear it clear as day. "And I love you."

You can't contain yourself. You shoot up, tackling him into a hug, so enthusiastic and so unlike yourself that you can't help but giggle. This is something he might do, is what crosses your mind. Only he can make you act on your feelings like this. You embrace him tightly and unintentionally bear your whole weight onto him. You even end up audibly squishing the breath out of him.

"Mmph! For someone who just woke up from a coma, you're pretty...energetic," He says, voice slightly strained from your actions, but he's laughing. "Always full of surprises. You're adorable, y'know that?"

"Nope, so I guess you'll have to tell me again, then!" You stick out your tongue. You untangle yourself and sit up, and he follows ensuite. You begin to splutter out a protest when you lifts you and drags you to the headboard, propping you up against it so that you're not straining yourself. He murmurs something about 'how you shouldn't even be sitting up'. You feel warm at how easily he handles your weight.

"I have a lot of things to tell you," He says sincerely, arms still around you as he settles you against the back of the bed. "But I guess I can start with that. You're adorable, sweets."

You sigh, ruminating on his words even though you know he didn't mean them to be serious.

"Hah...I'm having too much fun, aren't I? For all of the things I still don't know."

"You can have as much fun as you like," He counters. "After everything...it feels important, doesn't it?"

You chuckle. "Okay, Mr. Sap. Next you're going to tell me to 'make memories, not excuses' and 'live, laugh, love' or some shit."

He playfully glares at you. "I was being serious! And I don't sound like that! All I meant was...you deserve to be happy. That's all."

He turns his head to look away, cheeks reddening as if expecting you to poke fun at him again.

Feeling bad for laughing now, you gently grasp his chin and turn him back towards you. "Thank you, Satoru. I didn't mean to laugh, and I meant what I said...I am happy, but I'm also ignorant. Is that really true happiness?"

Your words hang in the air, lingering on your conscience longer than you'd like to admit. You need to know.

"That's pretty philosophical," He says after a few moments, clearly caught off guard by your sudden seriousness.

"Maybe. But it's also true. I want to know everything..." You sigh. "Well, I do and I don't. I've been dreading it all since I woke up."

"We have time," He protests, eyes searching your expression. It almost sounds like a plead, and you realize the truth will be just as difficult for him to address, if not moreso. "We have so much time, sweets. All the time in the world."

"Not when I feel like this," You frown.

You see a flash of panic in his eyes. "Like what? Are you in pain anywhere?"

You wince at the misunderstanding. "No, no! I'm fine. Sorry, bad wording, that's not what I meant. I just meant that I'm going to feel unsettled until I know. It's like... I feel the truth in my bones, but I don't actually know it yet. I don't know if I even want to know, but I don't think it'll go away until you tell me...until you confirm it....does that make sense?"

He comes closer, as if sensing your need for touch. You lean into him, your head nestling into his chest.

"I know. It does."

"I don't really want to know...but I should. I should know."

He sighs, and it's tinged with exhaustion. "I know, sweets."

"You know what I want to know, don't you?" You ask, but it feels unnecessary. "What I asked you earlier..."

He doesn't answer, not needing to. He knows you'll ask, knows that you'll put the words out into the world.

"Satoru...he's gone, isn't he?"

You're met with a suffocating silence. You can barely breathe; it feels like time has stopped, it feels like those few words used up all the air in the room. The pressure hangs in the air like a spell waiting to be broken, crushing your lungs. In this moment, you feel like you'll never breathe the same way again.

The truth is uttered quietly in a weak voice. "Yes, he is."

Time resumes. Air enters your lungs, proving you wrong.

At the confirmation, the truth you felt in your gut now feels like a rock, sinking down and down and down, the truth making your dread coming to a height but also grounding you. And then suddenly everything clicks, synapses that long laid dormant now sparking and flooding your brain with information. Your eyes widen, focus going in and out.

You came to him. You made a deal unlike any other before it. You sealed your own death in stone, trading it with both of theirs.

This surge of understanding has disturbed your reality. You are stricken with shock: you remember. You remember everything. How you sought Geto out knowing that only one could remain in this world, believing Gojo could never go through with it. Geto's painfully innocent smile as he threatened and manipulated you, the sympathy he expressed that made you believe in Satoru's apparent indifference, planting a seed for your disease; everything.

There's only one reason you would be able to remember. Your head feels like it could explode, even though you knew it all along. Everything you tried to prevent still happened anyway; the curse fulfilled itself despite all your efforts. Everything was for naught.

Gojo watches your reaction closely, bracing you against him as if you're going to fall apart if he doesn't. You think there might be some truth to that.

"You remember now, don't you?" Gojo asks quietly, as if he can read your mind. "The Binding Vow..."

"Why?" You cry out, even though you know why, your voice sounding all too loud compared to Satoru's. "After everything...Fuck, that's all I ever wanted to avoid! That's why I did everything I did. That's why..."

You hike your knees into your chest, trying not to let out the tears that begin to form. You feel his touch immediately, you feel the guilt that radiates through his hands that try to soothe you.

"Fuck. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't meant to...I tried to stop it...Nobody was supposed to die..."

"You know that's not true," He pulls back to look at you directly, blue eyes burning into yours. "I don't know exactly what deal you made, but I know that's not true. You can't just say that, not when it almost cost you your life. Do you really hold no value to your life?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're vaguely aware that he's angry. Angry that you risked your life for him, even though you know he'd do the same for you. But more than his anger, you sense the root of it: his unadulterated fear that you feel in his trembling grasp on you, see in his wide eyes.

"Do you really think that would have solved everything? That he would have kept his word?"

Guilt curdles in your stomach, but you also feel a rush of defensiveness. It's not like the choice you made was for fun; all you thought of was protecting him.

"It was a Binding Vow, Satoru. You kind of have to keep your word." You argue snarkily, but it sounds stupid even to your ears.

"Only about what is actually discussed. Unless you laid down conditions about every little thing...there are ways around everything."

Well, you can't argue with that. The vow was hastily taken when you were younger and more naive. You were desperate and blind to all of the holes in your plan.

You slowly raise your head, cogs still turning. "Satoru...how do you even know about the vow? Even I forgot. I couldn't have told anyone."

He chuckles darkly, "Geto wasn't exactly trying to keep it a secret. Yaga heard about it, and I'm pretty sure the higher-ups knew too. Ever wondered why you kept going on so many misinformed missions? They were trying to get rid of you, thinking you made some heinous deal with Geto. And of course Geto knew that would happen. I never- I never thought Suguru would go so far...I should have finished him off a long time ago."

"Satoru!" You're truly shocked by his words. Is this really the same man who bawled into your shoulder after Yaga and the higher-ups ordered him to carry out Suguru's execution? There's a reason you made the dire choice you did; he was incapable of carrying it out, and you feared for the worst.

Your eyes search his for the truth, and you find it. The dark glint in his eyes overshadows any past affection he had for his former friend. But there's more to it: the protective grip he has on you, the way his hands run up and down your sides as if reassuring himself that you're really there...

"He was fucking evil at the end. What he did to you..." His voice is weak. "I couldn't look past that. After all our years together, I can't believe he would go so far for his own agenda."

"But-" I didn't want him to die. I didn't want you to kill him.

He sees the doubt in your eyes. "Angel, there's no way. No way I couldn't have done what I did. You have no idea what you looked like...What he put you through..."

You glance down at yourself, frowning. Your brows crease in confusion. Sure, you had felt pretty bad, but you still survived. It's not like he actually did anything to you, just let the disease run its course. Okay, so you were maybe the closest to death you've ever been before, but you'd seen other sorcerers in worse condition who had made a full recovery after. And you woke up after all, didn't you?

"I mean, I know Shoko presumably fixed me up, but I don't feel too bad now."

Gojo sighs. "Do you know what day it is?"

You hesitate, thinking. It was Wednesday night when you were kidnapped. "Uh, it should be Thursday, right?"

"It's Monday."

He watches the realization sink in as you grow unusually quiet and withdrawn. Your mortality feels so fragile suddenly. His reaction makes sense.

"I've been holding my breath this whole weekend just hoping you'd pull through. Shoko didn't even know if you'd wake up at all. You almost died, and Suguru was banking on it. You almost fucking died, angel. You were on the brink, and...I couldn't handle it."

You look down at yourself again. Now that you look closer, you look sickly—horrible, really. Your skin has lost the luster it used to have and your nails are brittle and cracked. Your hair is thinner than it used to be, too, and its usual shine has been diminished into something dull and lifeless. You were almost lifeless.

"Bet I still look like shit, huh?" You chuckle weakly.

Gojo goes still, expression turning stony. Although he doesn’t say anything, it’s all over his face that he’s holding back strong words at your half-assed, dismissive response.

You sigh, “Sorry. I shouldn’t just…brush it off. I know I was in deep shit. But at the same time, I had already accepted it. It sounds bad, but…I was expecting it from the first flower. Deep down I truly thought I was going to die.”

"You almost did."

You wince, guilt flooding you.

You slowly grab his hands and look up into his eyes, trying not to shy away from his probing gaze. "I know, but I didn't. I got myself into such a mess, and somehow you were able to get me out of it. Somehow, you saved me from it all, Satoru."

There's a pause, and then...

"Well, I am the strongest for a reason."

And there he goes, turning your serious conversation into something rather unserious.

"Would you stop with that?!" You pout, holding up a pillow and miming hitting him with it.

He laughs and wraps his arm around you, easily giving him the leverage he needs to pull the pillow from your grasp.

"I'm so sorry, angel, please forgive me!" He shouts desperately, making you giggle. "But you shouldn't be trying to hit your knight in shining armor, should you?"

He shakes you a bit to emphasize his 'desperation' and frowns like a kicked puppy. You huff, trying to seem annoyed, but his behavior pulls a smile from you. You can't possibly stay mad at him while he's pouting like this.

A long moment of peaceful silence stretches out, a piece of bliss that is soon stolen away.

“Do you hate him?”

You look up into his crystal eyes, searching them. You didn't expect him to ask you that, and so suddenly at that. “Suguru?”

He nods.

“…I don’t know. He tried to use me as a pawn, to sacrifice my life to try to get you to break. To force you to be on his side. Considering that, he didn’t have any regard for our well-being anymore…I never wished any bad on him, and yet it seems that’s all he had planned for us. Bad things, cruel things. I was his pawn, you were his queen he wanted to capture.”

“...Queen?”

You laugh, spluttering in embarrassment, “W-well, the queen really has all the power in chess! I was just thinking the queen is the one who can actually do things and stuff, I don’t know, just leave me alone! I’m bedridden and you’re interrogating me on my terminology! Maybe you’re the cruel one, Satoru.”

"No, no," He half-smiles, and it's bittersweet. "He definitely was. To take you away from me—no, to take away your life—that's really the only way I can imagine myself breaking. I didn't know it for a while, but Suguru was truly cunning and calculating.”

He pauses for a moment, and as you look into his eyes you can see his conflicting emotions swirling in them. Deep down, he still cared for Suguru. That’s why it hurt.

He chuckles, shaking his head, “It's funny—that's who I thought I was. Everyone always thought Suguru was an angel with a perfect moral compass who could do no wrong...or at least I did. But it turns out that you're the only angel here. My angel."

“Har har,” You roll your eyes. “And next you’re going to tell me I made a deal with the devil.”

“You practically did,” He grimaces. “That’s really not too far off.”

“Maybe, but…” You sigh. “Somehow, it’s still hard to hate him. He used to be so kind, and his smile was so gentle. Maybe in another life, he stays that way.”

There’s a lot of things he could say, a lot of ways he could respond. Your hope for Geto to change, your faith that he could change in another life, may fall on deaf ears. Is that what you would want to hear after finally executing your best friend after a decade of refusal to, a decade of asking yourself the same questions?

You turn to him, eyes searching his face. But it turns out you don’t need to worry.

“Maybe,” Gojo smiles, and that’s good enough for you. “And maybe in another life, I would have confessed to you a long, long time ago.”

“Really? When?” You laugh.

“Hm…how about the first time I saw you?”

He tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breath halts at the absolutely love-struck expression on his face.

You want to ask him what he means, how that’s even possible, for every detail and moment he realized, but…

“You’re full of shit!” is what you say instead.

He continues on with a sweet smile, as if he hadn’t heard you, “You walked in holding a huge stack of books to your chest and got so nervous to introduce yourself in front of the class that you forgot to put them down and dropped them when you bowed.”

“Ahh! No I didn’t!”

“Mmhmm. And you were so shy that you refused to talk to me for three weeks, even though you talked to Suguru and Shoko.”

“Y-you were hard to look at!” You defend yourself, cheeks warming. “And how could I talk to you when I could barely look at you? You’re so…perfect, y’know? It was hard to talk to you when you’re so talented and pretty and charming…”

“Ooo? You really think so?” He wears a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, that’s enough!" You pout, crossing you arms.

"Awww, don't be mad at me sweets!" He chuckles and wraps himself around you. "I'm only telling the truth. You made me nervous too, y'know?"

"As if," You frown. "It didn't seem like it."

"Maybe I was just better at hiding it," He says, his smile now seeming misplaced. Each stirring feeling conjured a mask so convincing that it remained unquestioned for years, not until each of your blinding smiles formed cracks in his fake persona, breaking him down to his barest bones. Then he was a blushing mess around you, as Geto and Shoko often reminded him.

"Actually, I think you just weren't observant enough," He sighs and puts a hand over his heart as if offended. "Did you not pay any attention to me, sweets?!"

"I did! I just thought you hated me at first," You admit. "You wouldn't even look at me for so long, I just thought you looked down on me. I mean, you've always been so famous in our world, y'know? It made sense why you wouldn't pay me any attention. Well, I thought as much until we became friends, at least."

He moves in closer, his large fingers framing your cheek and rubbing gently your cheekbone. He's flushed, pink spreading across his cheeks and nose. "Hate you? I really messed up there, huh? Look at my face, sweets. I was just worried this would happen. You've always had this effect on me...I was scared that it was obvious even without speaking to you. Or looking at you."

You roll your eyes playfully. "How could that be obvious, Satoru? Only you could think that."

"Hmm, but everyone else still seemed to know."

"What exactly do you mean by 'everyone'?"

He chuckles. "It's a long list, sweets."

It's then you have the realization that you're still in the dark about a lot, not just this 'long list' of everyone who supposedly was aware of Gojo's affections. What exactly has transpired in the past weeks, or even months?

"There's still a lot you haven't told me yet. What exactly has been going on?"

He smiles. "That should be my line. There's a lot you haven't told me yet."

He's right. Annoyingly right. There was more to the vow, more to Geto and his family, than you've relayed. And everything about your illness...

It dawns on you that there are things you aren't ready to share yet. That you and Gojo have your work cut out for you when it comes to the past, when it comes to your relationship. You have love for each other, but there's more than that to a relationship.

"I know..." You frown, dreading the prospect already.

"Hey," He thumbs at your down-turned lips. "We'll get to it—we'll get to everything. We have all the time in the world now. We can talk about all the millions of things you're thinking about whenever you're ready...but for now, let's just have today. Today is for us. There's always a tomorrow, yeah?"

Hope blooms in your chest. That's right. One step at a time.

"'Today is for us'...I like that."

You smile easily, an invisible weight lifting from your chest. You feel lighter than you have in months—and it seems like Gojo is faring similarly, with his relaxed expression and gentle smile. But a flicker of uncertainty, given away by his eyes that he's not used to having on display, interrupts his otherwise peaceful expression.

Your smile drops. "What? Is something wrong?"

His narrows his eyes. "Can you read my thoughts or something? I was thinking for legitimately three seconds and you start hounding me..."

"Like I said before, thinking is dangerous from you!" You giggle.

"I really can't hide anything from you, can I?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "It's just that...I have a feeling that things are only going to get more complicated from here on out."

His words are cryptic, but you understand what he means. He's always been sensitive to changes in cursed energy, born with this innate instinct. He almost always senses major events in the sorcerer world before they happen.

"You've sensed something?" You ask, now alert.

You see something like regret flash across his features, as if he wants to eat his words. You're the type who is constantly overthinking and fearing worst case scenarios, as he well knows. You should be worried, with a million thoughts running through your head. But right now?

"Whatever," You shrug, truthfully unbothered. "As long as you're here, it doesn't matter. Even if the world is supposed to go up in flames, we have today. And you protect our tomorrow."

"Just me? Aren't you a sorcerer too? Don't discredit yourself, sweets," He smiles, but the look he gives you is firm. "We protect our tomorrow."

Embarrassment fills your features; you have always doubted your abilities, which has never been hard with Satoru around, much to his distaste.

"If you insist," You say, barely acknowledging yourself, but it's better than nothing. You look away from him, squirming uncomfortably in embarrassment.

"Mhm, I do," He hums. "It's always a we now, sweets."

But just as soon as you've seen his soft and sincere side, it's gone.

"But enough of all this boooring talk! Now that I have you, I think we have lots of lost time to make up for."

You raise your eyebrows. "What's wrong with talking, hm?"

He's so close again, and your eyes can't help but flick down to his pale pink lips.

"I don't need words to say what I want to," He says, lips brushing the skin on your neck where your pulse thrums.

"Is that right?" You try to ask, but soon your lips are occupied, your words muffled as he kisses you deeply.

"Mmhmm, and I have so much to tell you," He murmurs. "I've been needing this for so many years, angel. Been needing you."

You feel like you can't think, like you can't breathe.

"I want to do— I mean, talk about more things with you."

You don't miss the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and the way he pulls you closer and presses your body against his, your skin brushing against his. You feel heat, you feel electricity; you feel him.

He's all you want.

"Freudian slip, Satoru? Well, talk all you want. I'm all yours."

TAGLIST: @certainduckanchor @kawaiivillainess98 @arehzhera @starrylibras @mandysfanfics @rain-and-a-nice-nap @csillana @sup-hoes-its-me @llliissuu @hawkdaddy1111 @dcvilxswish @angel-kyo @eliz-lovesgojo @5268r @wooasecret @timetobegone @ceronnica @torusblindfold @mo0nforme @crookedlyaddictedtodark-blog @soapysofi @sadmonke @shartnart1 @dummyf @adoraspace @allie-jay @notgoodforlife @spin-garden @astrokatsuki @reiluvr @kinny-away @turtl3-warr1or @slyhersophia

notes: not me foreshadowing Sukuna and his long long list of consequences...especially that one :( also sorry for offscreening Suguru 💀

Guys I'm finally done!!! I think I need to ban myself from doing multiple chapter works because I really just make you guys wait for waaaay too long... Either that or I have to finish writing the series first before posting any of it LOL. Like do you want to know something embarrassing? I had to reread my own writing because I forgot what I wrote...which is crazy!!!

Also I rewrote this like 3 times AGHHH and I had the hardest time with the ending...I hope it's not too awkward or sudden? I tried my best with it ;-;

Thank you so so so much for reading and commenting!!! <3 And again, sorry to keep you waiting for so long!!

[pininghermit]

Shattered Armor

Request: @mairablue Hi 💞 Are you still taking requests for spin the wheel event about Adrian? I got the prompt, "He fell first". Can you please write a story with the prompt? Thank you!

AN: Hi friend, thanks for requesting! Please do excuse my own inner angst for this one but this was so cathartic to write.

Genre: He fell first

Pairing(s): Adrian Tepes x female Reader

Summary:Long ago Adrian had walked away from your world. World that never slept. Run by meetings, contracts, profits, grind. Adrian had left it for his mother’s cafe. To the world that smelled of roasted coffee and Mediterranean sandwiches. A glimpse of himself is perhaps what attracts him to you. Like a moth to flame, his heart follows.

Adrian remembers your coffee order as if it were etched into his mind.

Grande, half-decaf, oat milk latte with two pumps of hazelnut, one pump of vanilla, extra foam, and a light sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Exactly 135 degrees.

It was etched there from the first time you walked into his cafe. Typing away on your phone, a Bluetooth headset snug in your ear, you barely glanced at him as you rattled off your intricate order.

You had the air of someone important, busy, and detached. A person who lived in a world that never stopped spinning. Adrian had immediately dubbed you a corporate asshole in his mind.

That’s what he thought as he made your coffee the first time.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at your request, even as he worked to make it perfect. But when you tipped fifty dollars with a casual shrug and moved on without looking back, Adrian had to pause.

Who was he to judge?

When he brought the coffee to your table, he’d planned to offer you a free muffin as a gesture of goodwill after that mountainous tip. But as he approached, his words faltered.

Gone was the polished, confident figure in an expensive suit who had walked in just moments earlier. Instead, you looked small, as though the weight of the world had folded you in on yourself.

You were slumped back in your chair, staring blankly out the window. The person who’d walked in moments before had vanished, replaced by someone far more vulnerable.

Your shoulders were hunched, your hands limp in your lap, and your eyes, distant and red-rimmed, spoke of a weariness that felt all too familiar.

Adrian had frozen, caught off guard by the rawness of your expression.

He knew that look.

It was the same one he used to see in the reflection of office windows late at night. Back when his days were filled with meetings, contracts, and expectations. Back when the weight of his father’s company pressed down on his chest, even in the rare moments of stillness.

World was harsh to all. But it made itself harsher for women. It forged the might of iron to shape them into the form that it deemed acceptable.   

Long ago Adrian had walked away from your world. World that never slept. Run by meetings, contracts, profits, grind. Adrian had left it for his mother’s cafe. To the world that smelled of roasted coffee and Mediterranean sandwiches. A glimpse of himself is perhaps what attracts him to you. Like a moth to flame, his heart follows.

Without a word, Adrian swapped the muffin for a sandwich. Sugar wouldn’t help someone who looked like they were barely holding it together. He set the plate down quietly, careful not to disturb you, and slipped away before you could respond.

Yet he saw it, the way you glanced down at the sandwich, brows furrowed in confusion, before hesitantly picking it up. Your movements were slow, deliberate, like someone unaccustomed to acts of care. Adrian had watched from a distance as you chewed, your expression softening ever so slightly.

You come during the quiet hours now, always slipping in like you’re sneaking moments away from something relentless. Adrian watches as you sit by the window, eyes tracing the slow crawl of traffic. He notices the way your shoulders loosen as the minutes pass, how the tension drains from your body in the comfort of the cafe’s stillness.

He doesn’t ask questions. Instead, he keeps leaving sandwiches by your coffee. Most of the time, you don’t finish them. He often finds the leftovers in the bin or in your hands as you leave, your fingers brushing crumbs from your lap.

Adrian doesn’t know why you linger in his mind. Maybe it’s the reflection of himself he sees in you, the person he once was, drowning in a world that demanded too much. Maybe it’s the quiet grief that clings to you, invisible to everyone else but glaring to him.

What he does know is that every time you walk out the door, holding a sandwich you’ll probably forget to eat, something inside him twists in ways he thought he’d left behind.

And so he keeps watching, keeps waiting. Because in the stillness of the café, he’s found something he never expected: a tie to someone who reminds him of what it’s like to need saving.

Patrick Len sent a meeting invite.

The notification flashes on your phone just as you’re about to place your usual order. The familiar chime of the Slack app makes your stomach turn, and for a fleeting moment, you imagine hurling the damned device off Mount Everest.

You suppress a groan, the simmering frustration bubbling beneath your skin. You’d just told Patrick about your lunch break, a rare and sacred 30 minutes of freedom. Yet here you are again, accepting the last-minute invite with the same resigned flick of your thumb.

As you place your order without even looking up, your mind replays the mechanics of your daily grind. The way your gaze always seems glued to your phone, your head perpetually bowed as if in servitude to the towering skyscrapers of the corporate hub that looms over your life. Every day, they press down on you, making it harder to breathe.

This time, you put your phone on silent with a little more force than usual, slamming it onto the table and fighting back the prickling sensation behind your eyes. You will not cry. Not until the handsome barista brings your coffee, at least.

By now, Adrian has probably witnessed a dozen of your near-breakdowns. Would one more really be that surprising?

There’s something about this cafe, though something that makes it impossible to hold back the cracks in your armor. It’s far enough from the looming heights of your office, just a 15-minute drive that feels like a lifetime away. Here, you don’t have to sit under the shadow of your desk, with its endless agenda waiting to devour your soul.

Here, you can breathe, if only for a moment.

You glance out the window at children skipping home from school, their laughter floating into the street. Middle-aged women huddle together, their grocery bags heavy but their conversations light. Dogs prance by with their owners, tails wagging, paws pattering. And then there’s Adrian, the barista who brings you the best sandwiches you’ve ever had, always with a smile that feels unearned.

In this tiny pocket of the world, no one is watching for your cracks. No one is calculating the sincerity of your smile or judging the perfect precision of your project briefs.

It’s liberating and miserable all at once. Liberating to step away from the chaos, but miserable to know how fleeting it is, how high the price is for chasing your so-called dream.

A silly dream, stubborn and relentless, the kind you can’t quite let go of no matter how much it costs you.

This cafe has become your refuge, the only place you allow yourself to slip from the relentless mold of perfection. A place where you let the cracks widen, if only a little, as you sit and let the world drift by.

Yet, this cafe is where you dare to let go of your shattered armor. And allow your nurse Joy (yes Pokemon Go had some great gems here) to allow you some healing with the most amazing hummus dressings.   

The $50 tips? Excessive, even by your standards. But you leave them anyway, for Adrian. For the barista whose eyes follow you with a softness you can’t quite understand, like a puppy waiting for a reason to stay close.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why you keep coming back.

[lokisswiftie]

My beloved ghost and Me (Spencer Reid x Reader)

3.2k words

First time writing for Spencer, please be nice! I’m open for requests :)

Summary: Spencer Reid was your entire world. Until he died, leaving you with nothing but the ghost of him. But Is the ghost of him more present than you expected?

Warnings: Main Character Death (it’s literally the premise of the fanfic), mentions of Guns/Gunshots, loss and grief is a key theme, Reader is probably depressed, BAU!Reader, Heavy Angst, descriptions of violence, Ghost!Spencer, possibly ooc Spencer because I’ve never wrote for him before, written with early seasons Spence in mind. Yes I did make Wuthering Heights the book, who is going to stop me? Tell me if there’s any I missed.

When you first met Spencer Reid, you were both young agents at the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Before he ever became close to you, you’d found yourself slightly intimidated by his vast intellect. Still, you grew close fast, Spencer Reid was a kind person, more than that all his little quirks seemed to make you like him even more. The rest of the team could see you both falling for eachother fast, they could see the way his eyes always found you after he told a fact- searching for your approval. He always got it.

There was reluctance to accept the love between you. Love could hurt, and the two of you had experienced enough hurt to know that. But try as he might, Spencer Reid could not pull his eyes away from you. He could not stop himself from wanting you. The longing between you grew and resistance was futile. So on that quiet night at some hotel the team was staying at, when he had sought you out and your lips had met for the first time, it was a breath of relief after so long pretending.

After that your life was filled with Spencer Reid, and you woke up in the morning when the sun was creeping through your windows and saw him next to you and knew this was were you needed to be. You saw a brightness in him that seemed to pull you towards him, like a moth to a flame. Though, in the time that Spencer Reid was in your life he had only ever hurt you once. The pain of that flame came unexpectedly.

You both knew that with your work, with the job that you both had that there was danger. Part of the reason you both had for being so reluctant to be together was that something happening to one of you in the field was a haunting thought. And it could happen. And though you reassured eachother constantly, promised to be careful and tried to be… it did happen.

You never should have left him. There was a sinking feeling of dread in your gut the moment Spencer even proposed the idea of splitting up, but you had pushed it down. You had given the okay, agreed to him taking the back of the building and pushed down the crawling feeling of nausea in your gut.

Less than a minute. Less than a minute after your beloved had left your sight, the snap of gunshots echoed through the air. Your head had snapped in the direction of the sound, hands flying to your radio to alert Hotch that something had happened. Something had gone badly wrong.

Try as you might since that day, you can’t forget the sight of Spencer on the floor of the building, dark blood pooling around him. His eyes had been wide with almost childlike surprise, looking at the blood on his clothes like he didn’t even realise what it was. You stayed beside him till the EMTs came, and he’d begged you not to go. While you had been holding onto his steadily whitening hand, he remained as calm as he could and promised you everything would be okay.

Spencer died in the hospital. The gunshots- yes, that bastard had shot the love of your life multiple times- had broken inside him. Just like something had broken inside you the moment the doctors told you and the team that Spencer was gone. The rest of your team were doing their best to support you, but loss weighs down heavily. Especially when someone like Spencer is gone.

Since Spencer died life has felt at a stand still. Mandatory leave has resulted in you trapped at your apartment. Surrounded by your shared belongings. In the months after he died, Penelope was a rock for you, and bless her she really did try to keep you steady. She forced you to actually venture outside the apartment. And on the days when she arrived and you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed, she stayed with you too.

Nothing could replace him though. And the team couldn’t be there all the time- you understood, of course. But when you were alone, you felt the darkness creeping in. You couldn’t bare to open the curtains so your apartment remained in half darkness most of the time. When you slept, you dreamt of Spencer. And though you knew it wasn’t helping… you were just glad to see his face again. Even if he did fade with the morning light.

Three months after Spencer died, and you think you’ve driven yourself mad with pacing your apartment like this. Your daily routine has turned into getting up, and finding a new area of the house to be flooded with memories of Spencer by. Today you were standing by the bookshelf, swaddled in your pyjamas. Tears wet your cheeks. They always do.

This apartment had originally been Spencer’s, but when you moved into it he had accommodated space for your belongings. Both of you being avid readers, a large chunk of that was books. Your fingers trace over the spines of countless books, eyes flickering to titles. You don’t have an eidetic memory, but you can remember Spencer’s voice reading these stories to you during cold winter days, his arms around you tightly. You pull your hands away when you find a book Spencer had read to you late one night when you were both stressed after a case. Wuthering Heights.

You can feel the tightness in your throat already, and when you close your eyes you can see him again. Your hands hover over the bookshelf while your mind flicks back to that day with Spencer. Your Spencer.

“Are You okay?”

Spencers voice broke you out of the trance you had been in, your head snapping up to look at him in the bathroom mirror. He looked exhausted, already wearing his pyjamas and leaning on the door with tired eyes. He’s been watching you. Watching you staring at your hands, soaking them in the sink for so long they’ve started to prune. The water stopped being filled with blood long ago, but the urge to scrub your hands so hard the skin peels prevails. You wipe your hand on your face, sniffing while you quickly drain the clear water from the sink.

“I’m fine. Sorry I’ll be right in-“

You freeze in the middle of drying your hands, staring at yourself in the mirror. You can see the haunted look in your own eyes. Somehow the flickering bathroom light isn’t bright enough for you to forget what you saw on that case. Both of you know it. Spencer watches you for a moment, watching how you visibly recoil at the sight of yourself. For a long moment neither of you speak, the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing.

When Spencer’s arms gently encircle your form, you jump at first before settling into him. Admittedly, you’re shaking.

“It’s Not your fault.”

He whispers by your ear, his voice as soft as the sweater he’s wearing. You’re looking at yourself in the mirror and find your lip trembling. There’s a look of skittish fear in your eyes that’s strange to you. You don’t remember starting to cry.

“I know-“

You try and reassure him, unable to meet the soft brown eyes you know are staring back at you.

“It’s Not your fault,”

He repeats it anyway, saying your name with a firmness. you realise how much you’ve begun to lean on him, and how his hands steady you. You’re filled with a rush of emotions and you turn around in his arms before he can see you fully start sobbing. Spencer pulls you into his chest without hesitation. Your eyes sting so you press your face further into his neck, and he repeats those words over and over again until you can believe it. Until you can’t cry any more, and he’s gently rubbing your back and pulling away.

You know you must look even more of a mess now, skin puffy with broken sobs. But he doesn’t look at you with anything less than adoration. His hand comes up to hold the side of your face and you exhale shakily, the space between you tiny.

“Let’s go to bed baby,”

And so you do, following Spencer into your shared bedroom and slipping under the lavender covers. You look up In confusion when he doesn’t join you, and your eyes land on him as he finally comes to join you with a book in his hands. He smiles when he sees you squint in questioning, and you could melt at the adoration in his eyes at that moment. He slips into bed beside you, beckoning you closer which you eagerly comply with and find your designated place in his arms.

“What’s this?”

You question finally, looking up at the sharp curve of his jawline from where your head rests on his shoulder. His face is focused as he flicks through to the first page of the book.

“Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë.”

He replies, and sensing the scrunch of your nose in confusion he adds with a coy smile.

“I’m going to read to you.”

You’re sure you’re burdening him with your unpleasantness, because once again you find yourself replying in a far more abrasive tone than his.

“I’ll probably fall asleep before you’re even started.”

You grumble, and you’re not sure why you’re fighting off the affection but something within you wrestled with your morals, begging you to be difficult. Maybe to see if he’ll love you anyway.

He turns his head to look at you when you say that in that specific tone, and his eyes have this way of seeing through you.

“That’s the point. Get comfortable, I’m about to start.”

He turns his head back to the book and as promised, begins to tell the story to you like you’re a little kid. You settle down without another word of protest, too exhausted and too content by the sound of his voice to fight it anymore. You find yourself Inhaling deeply while you watch his fingers dart over the page, surrounded by the scent of his cologne and drifting in a sea of his voice.

As promised, you slip into a sleep quickly, one far more restful than would be without his help. And when Spencer tenderly brushes your hair back from your face you lean into his touch. Sometimes you still find yourself leaning, but find nothing left of him to hold you.

A choked gasp leaves your throat at the memory, and then before you can judge the situation better you grab the book tightly by the spine. It’s hurting your hand how hard you’re gripping the ornate cover, clammy hand shaking with rage. The sound of your own crying has become like white noise over the past few months. It's filled so much of your time recently that the sound of silence is more distressing than the wretched sobs.

Your eyes flash and once again your head is filled with images of Spencer. When his eyes appear in your mind, you hurl the book right at your front door. For a moment you choke on your own sobs, before caving into the bookcase and without much grace slump to the floor. With your eyes blurry with tears you can see the book, it’s spine looking cracked. Spencer would have hated that. Spencer would have hated you for doing that.

“God, I’m sorry-“

It’s pathetic, you tell yourself. How often you find yourself apologising to the memory of your partner. The reason why changes every time. There’s so many reasons to beg for his forgiveness now.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry-“

You wail, and you can’t even be bothered to think about your neighbours. The first few times your wailing had disturbed them they had been understanding, and they gave you the same pitying smiles in the corridors that everyone did. Now, you're certain their sympathy has worn off. The bookcase makes a noise while you suddenly slam your head back against it. It aches deep into your skull, and when you find that it somewhat muffled the sound of Spencer’s voice in your head you do it again. And again, and again and again and again and-

“Y/N.”

No. You’d been slamming your head back so hard you were starting to see stars. Surely reprieve from the torment that is his voice should have come by now.

“Y/N.”

No, he sounds clearer this time. You almost scream in frustration. You weakly hit your head again.

“No!-“

Your voice comes out in a scream that silences the voice for a moment. The relief doesn’t even get a chance to fill you, before your chest starts to feel like it’s being crushed. You keep Your eyes screwed tight shut to avoid the sting of your own salty tears, and deep down to avoid his voice. Jesus, you must be past the point of insanity now.

“Y/N!”

Like a crackle of thunder, Spencer Reid’s voice echoes into the air around you. And it is a startling realisation, one that spurs you to blink your eyes open- but you’re certain. You didn’t make that up. He’s here.

Tears blur your vision, and you struggle to make out the room in front of you for a moment before it swims into focus. The sight rips the breath from your lungs all at once. Your eyes travel up, from his shoes which are shiny and polished, to the top of his head where his hair shines like a halo in the warm lighting of your apartment. There, like a mirage in the depth of the desert, is Spencer. Your Spencer. And he looks back at you with soft eyes.

The seconds where you stare up at him like a worshipper to a god seem to stretch into hours. You gape like a fish wrenched from the ocean, silently begging for words. Begging for an explanation for the man you love standing In Front of you, when for the past months all you’ve done is remember him dead.

Finally the silence breaks when you wheeze out a reply, breathing his name like a prayer while tears threaten to cloud your vision again. You frantically wipe them away, lest he disappear from the world again and leave you more broken than ever.

“Spencer?”

He looks back at you, his eyes startlingly alive. So bright, you could almost kid yourself that the young man before you is still alive and well, and not buried with all of his future in the ground with him. The guilt eats like maggots under your skin, a rot you’re certain is polluting the air around you. The way he looks at you with some kind of divine forgiveness in his eyes does not ease this feeling.

“I’m here, it’s me.”

He replies, his voice eerily nostalgic. And then he reaches out a hand to you, and you look at it. You realise how pathetic you must look, on the ground with your lips wobbling while you suck in breath after breath. You can’t seem to care when all you feel is disbelief. You stare at his palm; you don’t trust yourself to grab ahold of it in case he vanishes like mist in front of you.

“How… are you here?”

Your voice cracks and his fingers twitch like the sound pains him. You look up at him and can’t restrain the flood of liquid to your eyes when you say the words out loud.

“You’re dead.”

He looks down at you, his eyes warm with heartbreaking pity, and then he comes closer as he drops to the ground. You watch with stunned half believing eyes as he sits beside you, leaving a distance of approximately five inches between you both as he too comes to lean against the bookshelf.

“I was. I don’t know. I think I still am, I’m not sure I-“

His voice is like a fever dream, every syllable making you shiver with memories. You stare up at his face, and he cuts himself off and looks down at you. That’s when you know this must be real, because he has that look. The one that seems like he’s totally enraptured with you. None of your previous visions of him had given you that mercy, the burn of hatred in his eyes was more common. Spencer looks down at you with sorrow.

“I remember dying. I remember… watching everything that happened after.”

He explains, fixing his eyes on his hands while you stare at him numbly.

“I watched you for so long, Y/N. I tried to talk to you- I think I wasn’t strong enough then, maybe or something like that.”

Your heart, which you didn’t know could still shatter further, somehow does. Spencer. He’s been here, within reach but somehow not. If you could remember how to, you would laugh bitterly at the revelation that the universe has found yet another way to kick you down.

“What changed? How are you here now?- I don’t understand-“

You frantically ask, and he quickly reaches for you. His eyes flash with hurt for a moment when you duck away from his touch before they fill with understanding.

“Y/N, please- I’m here. I don’t know how, I think maybe I’m… stronger? I’ve been trying to get you to notice-“

You listen to him and at this your mind flashes with memories of the various objects that have been falling off of tables. You didn’t care at the time, but the pieces fall into place now. He continues.

“…I saw you hurting yourself and I didn’t think about it, I just spoke. And you heard me.”

There’s a moment of silence where the world seems to settle- it turned on its head when you saw him, and you’re not sure it will ever return to the way it was before. But the world around you settles as you grapple with the knowledge.

You stare at your palms stunned, and you can hear the anxious tapping of Spencer’s fingers against his thigh. It’s a sound you didn’t realise you’d missed. It’s then you realise sluggishly that he’d tried to touch you, and you’d pushed him away. It’s then that your body is filled with overwhelming need for Spencer, and it’s the moment that you realise you can have him again.

He lets out an exclamation when you quickly turn towards him and briefly look at his face. Not bloody, not bruised, not pale and lifeless. You choke on a sob, and launch yourself into his arms again.

“Oh my god, Spencer-“

You sob, and his arms wrap around you without hesitation. He’s just as eager to have you in his arms again, and he doesn’t flinch at the way you squeeze him harshly. He’s real. You reach up and you can feel the softness of his hair under your fingertips. You bury your face in his neck and you can smell his cologne once more. Then his hand moves up to gently cup the back of your head, which you’ve only just realised has started to sting. He cradles you close to him, and you can sense the worry emanating from him.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

He whispers, and presses a firm kiss to your forehead. You shudder at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as his breath tickles the hair on your neck.

“I’m here. I’m here.”

[inubaki]

The Sea Queen

-Lucifer's side

-self-loathing

——

From the countless tales whispered in the depths of the ocean during his youth, Lucifer had learned that humans were creatures of destruction and malice. They tainted the purity of their waters with waste, ravaged the beauty of their lands for their own gain, and inflicted harm upon anything they deemed unfamiliar or threatening. Even as a mighty Kraken, fear hung like a shadow over him during those formative years. 

This trepidation intensified when a relentless storm, more ferocious than any he had ever encountered, tore him from the safety of his pod. Cast aside by the waves, he found himself marooned on a small, sun-kissed island, far from the familiar depths of his ocean home. On the rocky shore, he writhed ineffectually, his colossal tentacles struggling against the constraints of the foreign land. 

Helpless and vulnerable, he could only observe as a group of small humans approached, their laughter echoing through the salty air. Their eyes gleamed with a playful mischief that sent chills down his spine and his heart racing with dread; he realized their intentions were far from innocent. With each step they took, the pounding rhythm of fear surged within him, a cruel reminder of the terror he had always felt towards these land-dwellers. Here, on this unfamiliar terrain, he could do nothing but wait and watch as they closed in, driven by a dark curiosity that made his heart race with panic.

They had furiously kicked at him, planning to do terrible things to the already weak Kraken. He hated them for hurting him while he was down and he hated how some of his tentacles were ripped out during the storm to the point he was too weak to fight back. He did hiss. That only deterred them for a second before they mockingly hissed back at him. Lucifer could only bite his lip in anger. 

And then he came. A beautiful child, perhaps older than his abusers, and he looked very angry as he yelled at them to stop. He stared down at the children and to his great surprise, began to fight off the children before they ran for their homes, crying. "Yeah, that's right!" The child yelled, brandishing his fists triumphantly.

Despite the mysterious human saving him, he didn't trust him.

XxX

It didn’t take long for Lucifer to develop a deep trust in Adam. There was something strikingly captivating about him that drew Lucifer in like a moth to a flame. Adam possessed a refreshing innocence, seemingly untouched by the darker realities of the world around them. His words flowed effortlessly, each sentence imbued with a buoyancy that made it impossible for Lucifer to disengage. Oh, how he could lose himself in their conversations for hours on end!

Adam’s voice was a melody, soothing and harmonious as if it were crafted by celestial beings themselves. Every inflection and laugh seemed to sprinkle the air with joy, compelling Lucifer to lean in closer, hanging on every word. His eyes were mesmerizing, resembling two glimmering pools of gold that danced with light in the sunlight, radiating warmth and sincerity. Whenever their gazes met, a spark ignited between them, and that radiant smile of Adam always brightened Lucifer's day, spreading an infectious cheer that filled the space around them.

He was glad they had gotten around to communicating with each other because Lucifer wanted his Adam to hear him for the first time. It was no wonder, then, that Lucifer, despite being younger, found himself irresistibly drawn to Adam.

So, he began to test the waters. Ever so slightly, he would bite Adam's fingers. It was the start of any courtship, though Lucifer being so young made it a bit odd, but he needed to make sure that no one would ever see Adam and not think he was being courted! And that meant he needed to be bitten.

Adam seemed surprised by this but never pushed him away. This only encouraged Lucifer more. Adam was accepting him! Surely that meant they were meant to be! Anytime Lucifer got excited, he would bite Adam and leave his marks. It was not too rough; humans were on the fragile side, but enough to get his message across.

One fateful day, in a moment of impulsive enthusiasm, Lucifer sank his teeth into Adam's skin a bit too forcefully. Instantly, a thin stream of crimson blood seeped from the wound, glistening in the soft light like a dark ruby. Adam's reaction was immediate and visceral; he recoiled sharply, shoving Lucifer away with a force that caught the Kraken off guard. 

Lucifer's wide, expressive eyes locked onto Adam's face, which was twisted in disbelief before being consumed with mind-numbing pain. Adam was rejecting him. He had seen it happen in his pod. Krakens came to strike their luck only to be turned away from them after a small bite. At least they were rejected quickly. Lucifer had known Adam for a while now and he had never, not once, had he ever pushed Lucifer away! Why now?! What did Lucifer do wrong?!

"Why?!" He cried out, clutching at himself, tears welling in his eyes. "Why?! Why?!" He felt arms hold him but he wouldn’t be consoled. Adam rejected him. What had he done to deserve something like that?! They had been growing closer all the time so why would Adma push him away?!

Suddenly, he felt a small bite on his fingers. It was enough to get him to sniffle and look at Adam curiously. What was he doing? The bites continued, each growing bolder until Lucifer felt like he was a blushing mess with how much he was being bitten.

Did this mean Adam liked him again?! Lucifer lept and pinned Adam down, nipping at his face in happiness. The human laughed. All had been forgiven.

Lucifer should have known that their happiness could not have lasted.

While Adam was away, deep within the shadows of his cave, Lucifer stirred restlessly. The air was thick with unease when suddenly, a familiar call echoed through the stillness—a voice that tugged at his heart. It was another Kraken, his cousin, a being of great strength and beauty, and he felt a rush of joy as he sensed her presence. With a gentle yet deliberate movement, the massive creature navigated the rocky formations of his above water dwelling, inching toward the entrance.

Finally, peering out into the crystalline depths of the ocean, Lucifer spotted her—a sight both mesmerizing and haunting. The Kraken emerged gracefully from the dark waters, revealing only the upper half of her powerful form. Her long, flowing blonde hair shimmered like strands of spun gold under the faint light filtering through the water, illuminating her features. But beneath her striking appearance, there was an unmistakable air of apprehension. Her vivid yellow eyes darted nervously, searching for something—or someone—amidst the shadows. 

“Lu? Is that you?” she asked, her voice a mix of hope and uncertainty, reverberating through the water with a slight tremor.

Overwhelmed with relief, Lucifer's face broke into a wide smile, his sharp teeth glistening as he responded, "B! It’s so wonderful to see you! I’m so glad you found me! I’m almost healed, and then we can finally leave this place! I need to introduce you to someone special. His name is—”

“Lucifer, stop!” B interjected, her voice suddenly grave and filled with emotion. The joy that had illuminated Lucifer’s heart began to dim as he noticed the distress etched on her face. “Something terrible has happened,” she continued, her words tumbling out like a chilling tide. “Our pod was attacked!” 

The weight of her revelation crashed over Lucifer like a brutal wave, shattering the relief he had felt moments ago. Fear gripped him as he realized the gravity of the situation; the world around him transformed in an instant, and the vibrant beauty seeing his kin felt suddenly suffocating.

"What?" Who would dare—

"It was the humans of this island! They found us while we were hunting and took us by surprise!" B was now sobbing. "Half our family is dead! They killed while they laughed at us!"

Lucifer turned dangerous yellow and red eyes to the village, face stony. "B? Gather some more Kraken. We have a special hunting game for tomorrow."

They would pay for hurting his family. One way or another.

Now, all he needed was Adam in this cave while he protected him so he can place claim so no one else would hurt him. Hos poor Adal was innocent of hurting his pod and therefore will be spared.

He didn't even realize that the next day was Adam's birthday when his precious human told him. He was excited, talking about anything and everything while telling Lucifer how big he was now that he was eleven.

Lucifer smiled but it came out strained. Despite knowing what was about to go down and knew how justified he was, he couldn't help but guilty knowing it would leave Adam all by himself.

"Lucifer? Is something wrong?" Oh, his precious human saw how upset he was and wanted to comfort him! He didn't deserve Adam. Lucifer smiled and said, "I'm perfectly fine."

Then, the screaming began. The attack was in full swing coaxing Adam to immediately stood. Forever brave and reckless in his instinct to fight and protect from whomever was attacking his home, Lucifer’s heart truly broke then. Lucifer could neither risk Adam’s interference nor his mate’s potential for injury or death. But knowing it to be impossible to convince Adam otherwise Lucifer reacted methodically. Quickly leaping upon Adam’s back Lucifer thrusting in his fangs with the purpose like a hunter rather in a mate. Injecting a paralyzing venom, normally reserved for larger hunts, to successfully staggered his human in an instant.

Adam hit the floor with hardly a whimper and barely conscious. Lucifer couldn't help but stare in sympathy as he looked upon his helpless dazed expression. "I'm so sorry, Adam." 

Yet as his beloved lost his battle with consciousness, Lucifer couldn't help but admire just how beautiful he looked laid out before him. Covered in bites, but tainted by one and Lucifer refused it to be their last. Opening his maw, the kraken ripped through Adam’s shirt and descended upon him. Biting anywhere he could and only releasing him when he was satisfied with his marks. "My beloved, I will reunite with you again. But my Ocean home needs it's King."

——

25 Years Later

——

Lucifer awoke to an unsettling silence that enveloped the room. Typically, the gentle, rhythmic sound of his beloved Adam’s soft snores filled the air, a comforting melody that lulled him into serene mornings. But today, there was only the sound of his own breathing—deep and panicked. 

As his eyes swept across the bed, confusion gripped him. The sheets were rumpled, and the space beside him was achingly empty. A rush of fear coursed through him. Where could Adam be? He needed him now more than ever! 

“Adam!” Lucifer’s voice pierced the stillness, rising in urgency as he felt a tremor of unease in his chest. He could feel his form shifting, the familiar contours of his human shape blurring as his body morphed into his true Kraken form—a towering, magnificent creature of mythic proportions.

With powerful movements of his tentacles, he propelled himself out of the lavish bedroom, instinctively searching for Adam. Each graceful sweep sent waves crashing against the ornate walls as he called out his name, desperation lacing his voice. “Adam!” 

The vastness of the cave house loomed around him, shadows wrapping around corners like dark secrets, amplifying his dread. He explored each room with fervor, anxiety mounting with each passing moment. Where could his beloved be?

In the earlier days, Lucifer had been so careful in Adam’s regard, persisting on keeping his lover deep within the coils of his reach, especially as they slept. But Lucifer has long since eased up upon his paranoid precaution after the birth of their eighth child. Slowly evolving a renewal of trust during the births of their ninth and tenth child. How foolish he had been—-No! He would not allow himself to lose Adam—not in this way, not after everything they had faced together. Frustration gnawed at him as he called Adam once more, only to be met with the same suffocating silence. After several attempts, he finally decided he had reached his limit. Anger bubbled within him, the kind that always threatened to spill over when he thought about the recklessness Adam often displayed. The feeling of betrayal tampered hand in hand with his instinctive feeling of worry.

Hadn't they been through this before, time and again? Each conversation had emphasized the heavy burden Adam bore after so callously ending the lives of the Kraken beyond the bounds of sympathy of his home town—as if he were playing a cruel game rather than confronting the dire consequences of his massacre. Lucifer stifled a growl, his teeth clenched in frustration. Adam couldn't have gone far; he couldn't deceive himself into thinking this was it—there had to be a reason for his absence, something that would bring him back.

Yet, beneath the anger lay a deeper truth: their children were missing their mother, just as Lucifer needed his wife by his side in this tumultuous time. The weight of familial duty loomed large, a reminder that they were more than just individuals but a family requiring all their strength to face the unfolding chaos. He couldn't let Adam slip away, not when there was so much at stake.

Taking a deep breath to steady his rising temper, Lucifer stepped outside into the cool water determined to track down his wayward partner. His thoughts were a swirling mix of confusion, anger and concern—what on earth had Adam been thinking? They had hardly spent any time together outside their cove since they started this entire arrangement. Yet Adam had witlessly ventured into the unknown, leaving behind the safety of their secluded water cave.

Lucifer knew all too well the dangers that lurked beyond their sanctuary. As the mighty Kraken, he had always commanded respect in the depths of the ocean, but that stature meant little out there where Adam hadn't yet made an impression. Here, Adam was vulnerable, exposed to other predators—some of them ravenous creatures, while others possessed a more cunning intelligence, capable of speech and negotiation. These beings could easily see Adam as an opportunity, using him as leverage in a scheme to extract something valuable from Lucifer.

Frustration bubbled within Lucifer as he pondered Adam's impulsive choice to run away rather than confronting his feelings or fears. Why didn’t Adam come to him? Why choose to face the world alone when they could have approached their troubles together? The weight of worry settled heavily on Lucifer's shoulders as he moved swiftly through the shadows, determined to find Adam before it was too late.

The search for Adam had dragged on far longer than Lucifer had anticipated. He felt the weight of frustration mounting within him, especially considering how energy-efficient their Kraken offspring were; they could sleep for hours on end, nestled in the soft, dark recesses of the ocean floor. It was a small comfort, knowing that their children were safe in their deep slumber while he was consumed by worry. 

Lucifer's patience was wearing thin, and he could feel the urge to destroy something building within him like an impending storm. Every passing moment without finding Adam only intensified his anxiety. He scoured the expansive depths of the ocean, traversing vibrant coral reefs and shadowy trenches, feeling the cold currents swirl around him. 

Then, as if guided by an unseen force, he caught a faint, familiar scent drifting through the water—a sweet, intoxicating trace that could only belong to his beloved wife. A smirk flickered across his face, igniting a spark of hope within him. He had found him at last. Fueled by determination and relief, Lucifer surged forward, propelling himself through the dark waters with swift, powerful strokes, his heart racing as he tried to reach Adam before any lurking predator could intercept him. He was resolved to bring his beloved back safely, no matter the cost.

Lucifer glided silently through the murky depths of the ocean, his keen eyes catching sight of Adam swimming in the shadows of a deep trench. The water was dark and cold, pulling at Lucifer like a seductive embrace, but his focus was solely on the burlap sack tightly clutched in Adam's hands. There was an urgency in his movements, a stealthiness that spoke of fear or desperation as he maneuvered away from an unseen threat.

Above him, the Kraken released a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the water, an ominous sound only he could sense. Instinctively, he felt the stirrings of protectiveness rise within him. His tentacles undulated with a fluid grace, propelling him faster and faster after his beloved.

Each stroke through the chilly currents brought him closer to Adam, who remained blissfully unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows. What if, instead of a loving husband, it was a predatory monster that had chosen to stalk his dear Adam? The thought sent a pang of anxiety through Lucifer. He couldn’t shake the nagging worry—if he wasn’t there, who would defend his husband against the lurking terrors of the abyss?

In the depths of his heart, he knew Adam needed him, even if stubborn pride blinded him to the truth. The way Adam eluded detection was impressive, yes, but it only underscored the perils they faced together. Lucifer's resolve strengthened; he would not let any threat harm his wife—not while he had the power to intervene. With every powerful swipe of his tentacles, he closed the distance, determined to keep Adam safe from the hidden dangers surrounding them.

Adam was immersed in his own thoughts, oblivious to the presence of Lucifer until it was too late. Without warning, he felt the cold, slick grip of Lucifer’s tentacles wrapping around him, constricting with an iron hold. Panic rose within him as he instinctively screamed, thrashing wildly against the powerful embrace that kept him anchored. 

Lucifer observed him with an air of calm amusement, his eyes glimmering like dark stars in a void. "And what, pray tell, are you doing so far from home?" he inquired, his voice smooth and unsettling, echoing in the silence of the shadows that surrounded them. 

Adam’s struggles only intensified as fury ignited within him. “Let me go! I want to leave!” he shouted, glaring defiantly at Lucifer, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes burned with a mix of fear and anger, but it was no use. 

Lucifer sighed deeply, a sound filled with annoyance and resignation. Hadn't they already have this conversation? Adam owed him. He wasn't allowed to leave until he repayed Lucifer in full.

"Adam, take a moment to look around you," Lucifer said, his voice echoing through the dimly lit expanse of the ocean depths. With a graceful flick of his sinuous tentacles, he lifted Adam, allowing him to absorb the surreal beauty surrounding them. Bioluminescent creatures glowed softly from afar in hues of blue and green, casting an otherworldly light on the vaguely familiar landscape.

As Adam's wide eyes scanned the enchanting, yet perilous realm, Lucifer's expression hardened. "You have no idea where you are, do you?" he continued, his deep, resonant voice laced with frustration. "You’re completely lost. And consider yourself fortunate that I stumbled upon you instead of a pack of Mersharks. In their eyes, you would be nothing but an easy meal."

Adam's face drained of color at the mention of the fearsome predators lurking in the shadows of the abyss. The weight of Lucifer’s words settled heavily in the water around them, and for a moment, the haunting beauty of the ocean seemed overshadowed by the gravity of their situation. Lucifer felt a twinge of remorse for frightening Adam so thoroughly, yet he knew it was imperative for his wife to grasp the gravity of his reckless decision to wander off into the unknown. This was no place for the unprepared; the depths were filled with dangers waiting beneath the surface.

Lucifer drew Adam in closer, his fingers tenderly framing his partner's face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his touch. "Don't you see what I'm trying to tell you?" he said, his voice low and filled with urgency. "Only I have the power to keep you safe in this place. You owe me for everything that's happened between us. My kind is nearly wiped out, their existence hanging by a thread." The memory of his brethren falling victim to Adam's hands triggered a familiar wave of anger within Lucifer, but he stifled it, forcing a serene smile as he gazed into Adam's eyes, filled with both love and a hint of desperation. "Now, the question is: are you going to be a good boy and come back home with me? Our children are waiting for us, and they need both of their parents."

"I'm still working on the Ocean knowing who their Queen is." It had only been a month ago when Lucifer had revealed to Adam that Lucifer was the King of the Ocean, most of it anyway, and he had a powerful status. But, he needed Adam near until everyone got the message that his new Queen was off limits.

Even after, if Adam chose—-

Adam sniffed. "I shouldn't like you. You have to be using some sort of spell or allure on me! That has to be the only way I could stand you!" Lucifer blinked, titling his head. Krakens were powerful but they certainly couldn't compel people to do what they want like that. Lucifer smirked knowingly. Even as children, Adam would willingly face anything almost blindly head on. It had been that single mindedness the compelled Adam to save him in the first place. Yet when it came to his mate’s own sense of self, what he couldn’t understand often caused him to lash out in some way. Repetitive and annoying, but Lucifer was nothing if not patient when it came to Adam.

"Oh, my beloved. I don't need to do that even if I could. I love how silly you are!" He kissed Adam's nose that evolved into a liter of bites. Purring deeply in his throat as his wife leaned into his touch with a forfeiting sigh. Feeling pleased and a tad forgiving, Lucifer nibbled Adam’s cheek affectionately before he continued more cheeringly, "Well, let's go! We wouldn't want our children to wake up alone!”

Adam said nothing beyond nibbling back over Lucifer’s hand in a tenderly familiar gesture. Even as the coils of tentacles rose to protectively encompass him.

-

story section by the amazing @libby-for-life! Art by me for angst week. This section is grounded by an under layer of self-loathing on namely on Adam’s part. Lucifer is more posed to do right in the only way his instincts know how, while Adam is barred by the consequences of his actions. But his punishment is starting not to feel all that horrible and that freaks him the fuck out. How can he adore these kids? How can he look to Lucifer and feel anyway expect the hate? —-

pervs:

@adamsapple-angst-week-2025

[theres-a-body-here]

Daemonology: Purson

Male demon x Male!reader

Part 2

Purson sighed deeply as he tapped his claws on his throne. He liked to think of himself as a patient demon, but sometimes, he swore his followers were stupid.

You stood before him, nervously playing with your fingers.

"You stand before me to ask for…a kiss?" Purson asked, his deep voice resonating like a rumbling thunder.

"Yes, sir," you said meekly, unable to meet his fiery eyes.

Purson pinched the top of his muzzle, eyes shut as he contemplated. "I fell from heaven for this," he muttered under his breath.

Evocations don't happen often, and when they do, the devotee usually asks for riches, power, or some other vain thing. Purson was actually stumped you would waste such an event for a simple kiss.

He looked at the paper he held in his other hand, reviewing your profile. It seemed you were a devoted follower, which was certainly in your favor. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if it was worth the trouble of granting your request. After all, demons didn't just bestow their affections on anyone who asked.

But then again, maybe it wouldn't hurt to indulge you once. His red eyes finally met yours.

"Alright," Purson's deep voice boomed across the chamber as he made up his mind. "Come here, little one," he commanded, gesturing for you to step closer.

With apprehension, you approached him, feeling the heat radiating off his form as you neared his throne. He patted his lap invitingly, indicating where he wanted you to sit. Your heart raced as you climbed onto his lap.

As you settled onto his lap, Purson wrapped an arm around your waist, his sharp claws digging gently into your flesh. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt his warmth envelop you, both physically and metaphorically. He sets your profile on the desk besides the throne before focusing his attention on you.

Slowly, Purson cupped your chin in his large hand, careful not to prick you with his claws. His hot breath tickled your face as he raised your head towards his own. Gods, he truly was massive—his size alone enough to send a wave of trepidation through you. Yet despite your anxiety, there was also an undeniable thrill coursing through your veins.

He leaned in close until his lips were mere inches from yours, his eyes boring into yours. "Do you still wish for my kiss?"

"Yes," you whispered, feeling moths flutter in your stomach.

With a sudden motion, Purson leaned in and planted a quick peck on your lips. When he pulled back, he observed how your eyes were closed in bliss and your lips were parted ever so slightly, expectantly waiting for more. You opened one eye curiously, wondering why the kiss had been so brief.

"Were you expecting more?" Purson asked, feigning disdain to tease you, enjoying the way your cheeks flushed.

"No," you stammered, trying not to sound ungrateful. "It was perfect." Although it was clear that you desired more than just a brief encounter.

"I was just teasing," Purson admitted with a low rumble, patting your waist affectionately.

Once more, Purson cupped your chin tenderly in his palm and brought his lips to yours. This time, instead of pulling away quickly, he pressed his lips firmly against yours, allowing you to savor the contact. You closed your eyes as the warmth spread throughout your body, losing yourself in the moment.

As you surrendered to the kiss, you felt his rough lion tongue tentatively test your lips, seeking permission to deepen the embrace further. Without thinking twice, you eagerly parted your lips in acceptance, welcoming his probing tongue within your mouth.

His hot breath filled your senses as he explored every corner of your mouth, the taste of sulfur lingering on his tongue sending shivers down your spine. It wasn't unpleasant though—far from it—and soon you found yourself matching his fervor, eagerly returning each stroke of his tongue with one of your own.

As the kiss came to an end, Purson gave your waist a gentle squeeze before pulling away. "Was that to your liking?" he rumbled with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You nodded vigorously, causing him to chuckle deeply. The vibrations of his laughter sent pleasant shivers through your entire body.

"Good," Purson declared with satisfaction as he released you from his lap. Standing up shakily, your knees threatened to give out beneath you, but somehow, you managed to maintain your balance.

"Make sure to send in the next person on your way out," he instructed, already focusing on another devotee's profile.

With a dazed expression on your face, you nodded obediently and began to make your way out of the temple, the memory of his kiss still fresh on your lips.

Maybe you might find the courage to ask for another kiss at the next evocation—but for now, you knew better than to push your luck too far.

After all, even demons had their limits.

[mosaickiwi]

Hi hi, if your requests are still open, could you do [REDACTED] becoming self aware and finding out that the player is super obsessed with him? From his pov cuz I wanna see the internal dialogue. Been meaning to write this myself, but alas, writer’s block 😞

obsessed angel is best angel hehehe >:3c

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Super Obsessed Angel~

The library was often slow in the morning, so you always put some extra time into helping whoever came in. You were getting a few books off the higher shelves for an elderly visitor. As you climbed down the ladder, a stack of novels held to your chest, you were completely unaware of the other visitor who’d been sneaking through the aisles since they arrived. [REDACTED]’s gaze was glued to you, lost in thought as he watched you go about your day.

Something about you had changed since he did away with the Ren persona, as if a certain switch had been flipped on in your brain. It was easy to connect the dots for them—you'd been so obvious about it. Or maybe years of watching you just made every little change easy to spot: you were utterly obsessed with them.

The first clue was a genuine shock for once. He'd dropped you off at your apartment after a date as he always did. You were well past nervous and shy the whole time, but it was to be expected since he wasn't “Ren” anymore. Under the dark mess of hair, black outfit, piercings and tattoos, he was a nervous wreck, too. Far more than normal to pick up the hints of what came next.

As soon as your door closed the dark-haired man pulled out their phone to admire you through the cameras placed in your home. He thought you'd surely wind down on your couch before bed like usual. Maybe even chat up a friend while catching up on your favorite anime.

Instead they were greeted with the sight of you still standing in the entry and typing away on your own phone. He quickly switched to watch your screen, eyes widening at the rapid barrage of texts you were sending to Moth. All gushing with joy about your date.

Of course he committed them all to memory immediately—and his eyes had widened at some of the more interesting things you'd typed before hastily erasing it for a slightly less unhinged message. But one in particular stood out.

“I don't think I can be normal about them.”

That was months ago, and each new thing you did only reminded him of it. He noticed everything and he loved it.

Your bright smiles as you leaned into their touch, their side, their embrace at any chance you got—they had his heart soaring. If only they had let you convince them to do away with “Ren” sooner. 

You even accepted the ring once thrown away all those years ago. Still on the necklace he’d worn to keep it close to his heart, but now a favored offering he would catch you playing with throughout the day while distracted by something or another.

It was everything he ever dreamed of. Of course, the quirks you picked up when you thought they weren’t looking were just as fascinating.

The way you always hastily tucked your phone away when he came back into a room was precious. As if they hadn't seen the photo of them you used as a wallpaper, least of all the dozens of other pictures you thought were safely hidden in the depths of your phone gallery. He had a picture to match each of yours in the thousands that filled his own devices.

Innocent calls in the middle of the night where you’d say you couldn't sleep just to hear their voice. He thought about teasing you and saying you could just record it, but then you wouldn't have an excuse—a blatant lie, he knew—to call. They always wanted to hear you just as much anyways, if not more. And even if you did figure out how to record it, he'd make sure the audio file somehow mysteriously disappeared.

He was almost certain of your obsession once you started taking clothes. Hoodies and jackets were obvious, especially since he intentionally left them out for you. That was more than enough to have him practically ecstatic. 

Until one morning after you spent the night he realized a few things were missing from his wash pile. A cursory glance through their security system’s recordings confirmed it. The items in question had been purposefully stolen from the middle of the basket so as not to arouse immediate suspicion, and squirreled away in your bag without their notice. He’d only left your side for a moment that day to pick up the takeout order at the door. You were starting to get careful. It made him all the more desperate in seeing what else you’d do.

The sound of a scanner beeping in the silence of the library brought him back to the present as you finished up with the elderly visitor. You politely bid them farewell before sitting back in your chair with a huff.

They couldn’t help but notice the hopeful glance you threw towards a spot on your desk that was obscured from their vision. No doubt the place where you always kept your phone during work. Your hand reached out of habit for the golden ring—his ring—dangling from your neck.

Were you thinking of him? It was only fair that he indulged you. He was thinking of you just the same. One text hurriedly tapped out on his cracked screen, and he was intoxicated by the love struck way your face lit up at the buzz of your phone mere seconds later.

Eventually he knew he'd have to come clean about spying on you. But he had a feeling you wouldn't complain too much. The obsession was finally mutual, after all.

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

I LOVE THE TED HEADCANONS SO MUCH, THEY'RE SO SWEET!!! You write him perfectly, omg, I'm gonna be reading that over and over for a bit.

Maybe to complete the gang, some romantic Gorrister x GN reader headcanons ;0 the same simple soft, sweet stuff (as soft and sweet as it can be for the story). I never find anything about him ever!

You'll never know how easy you are to need.

Gorrister (IHNMAIMS) x Gender neutral! Reader romantic headcanons Summary: Basic romantic headcanons with Gorrister and gender neutral! Reader Warnings: mention of violences, basic torture for the story, not an amazingly healthy relationship, Word count: 1.1k A/N: One of the ends headcanons is inspired by the fact I heard one of his voice lines in the game and heard he was southern, so it's slightly inspired by that. I don't know what region, but it's said peaches are grown in Georgia, so I like to think he grew up where peaches were grown. And thank you to all 200 of my followers, you're all too kind! ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Congratulations, you have one of the most difficult people to have in love with you! If you met before AM gained sentience, he’ll know more about being in a relationship with you since he would have some form of emotional integrity to an extent. After though? You’re in for a ride.

Gorrister didn’t know about his feelings for a long while, mostly since he had better things to do with his time and didn’t care to think about it. It would be a gradual realization though. He’d have random moments when he’d admire you silently, simply watching as you went about your day.

He’s one of the most violent in the group, so he’d either blame you (and occasionally take his anger out on you [not physically of course]) or AM. Gorrister isn’t blind to AM’s changes to others, he’s seen how it’s affected Benny and Ted. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was an effort to make him feel worse, watching as he got too violent for your emotions to handle just to watch you run from him. It’d make him feel terrible and it isn’t surprising.

On the other hand, Gorrister blaming you would gradually go away when his mind goes to AM. It would start off as him giving you dirty looks and being nastier about his comments. It would tone down to his basic nonchalant reactions. When he fully blames AM for his feelings, he’ll start noticing how kind you are to him.

It’s like a moth to a flame, Gorrister to your kindness. You’re so nice to Ellen when she speaks to you and Benny when he wants another story, and he’d watch silently. He knows he can’t just ask you to hold him randomly, it would be awkward, and he hasn’t done it with Ellen.

He’ll crave touch, touch that actually means something, especially from you. Gorrister has seen how you’d hold Benny in your arms when he’d get scared by something and he’d desperately want your arms around him. And Gorrister wants that comfort too.

Gorrister would start getting more defensive for you. Ted yells at you and calls you something cruel? Gorrister is more likely there and going to spit something back. It did shock you a bit when you first had it happen and he was just as awkward about it. He’d brush it off as him being annoyed by Ted’s angst again but in his heart, he knew it was for you.

The night he confesses to you, he’d fumble with his words a bunch. Gorrister hasn’t thought about romantic things in so long to the extent he’s insanely rusty with it. So, he’d skip over his words several times, hoping he’d come off as a little romantic and possibly “seduce” (really just get a kiss) you into loving him too.

If you accepted with the affectionate words he’s stumbled over, he’d think it worked well and consistently do it. Gorrister would butter you up at random so you can give him more kisses, again, stumbling over his words. It gets easier over time since he figures it out.

Gorrister adores kisses but in a possessive fashion, he’s desperate for your kisses and knows you’ll only give them to him. He’s very similar to Ted in how possessive they both are for affection. Oddly enough, it would just be kisses.

Affection is very subtle and not flashy, simple things truly. He’d link pinkies with you when you’re about and you’d mostly cuddle when you sleep. It would be on rare occasions that he would go out of his way to get the others to see his love for you.

Gorrister’s favorite form of affection will always be physical touch. He likes knowing your warm touch is there with him, being able to hold him in your soft arms and comfort him with your soft voice. He adores you beyond compare.

It’s usually forgotten how much AM truly affects Gorrister. The sight of his dead body was enough to emotionally scar him. If you were to comfort him in those instances, he'd be a lot nicer to you. He’s already kind but he’d really understand the distances which you would go for him. He knew you could leave him be and let him sulk on his own, but you came back to comfort him.

Gorrister is greedier than the others in terms of love. He’d expect affection of all kinds then barely reciprocate. He’s a lover, yes, not always a good one. The changes done to him by AM have genuinely hurt him and will hurt the relationship. He’ll expect kind words from you but has a habit of not giving you something similar in return.

If you do point out how lonely you feel when he doesn’t help you emotionally, he’ll brush it off with small comments about how he’s had it hard and needs your support. Of course, he’ll listen to an extent. He’ll try his best, it’s not the greatest, but he’ll try.

Honestly, if you got with any group member, you would be tortured by AM for his amusement to watch your lover suffer. The same can be said for Gorrister. He’d get you back in the arms of another man and find another reason to hate AM.

Gorrister is very similar in terms of jealousy to Ted. He’d take any opportunity if anything to get a little jealous. His anger issues don’t go away with the relationship, and he’d be taunted for it, especially by AM. After you were off being tortured beyond comparison by the AI, he’d get you back in the hands of another man. At first, he wouldn’t care about it, his attention on you and your condition. As time went on, he’d ask you questions about how you felt about the guy that gave you back, asking if you found the guy attractive and if you still loved him.

While on the journey for the canned peaches, he’d promise to start swinging to get more cans for you both.

Gorrister would keep you close the entire time and talk about how he grew up in an area where they’d grow peaches. He’d talk about going onto farms to help harvest them too. He missed the taste of peaches and finally getting that opportunity to have them again would be amazing, and with you by his side, it would not compare.

The affection you’d get would be more aggressive compared to the stuff he likes getting from you. He’d defend you against cruel remarks by the others, if it gets bad enough, try swinging at at least one of them.

At the end of the day, Gorrister is a tortured man so don’t expect the most amazing things from him but know that there are points where he will love you just as much as you love him.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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Prosaic Introductions: Innocent Perspectives (Dottore x Reader)

A part two of my Prosaic Introductions drabble, this time in the point of view of the reader! It can be read as a stand alone though, but you’re missing out on some juicy context without part one. This has been highly requested for some time, so I hope everyone enjoys :3

Word Count: 1.6k

Content Warnings: none

Dottore was by far the strangest man you ever had the pleasure of meeting. His presence brought a chill to any room he stepped into, maintaining a hard distance from anyone and everyone, and he never took off that weird mask. You wondered if he wore it for some medical reason or if perhaps he was self conscious of the top half of his face. Nonetheless, you still could somehow tell whenever his eyes would bore into you with an intensity that could probably put Archons to shame.

On the outside, the Harbinger seemed entirely unapproachable, even dangerous, and yet you found yourself being drawn in by him. Perhaps you were merely a moth drawn to the flame, or more accurately, the fly caught in his web, but you found yourself always throwing caution to the wind when it came to him.

It had been a few weeks since Dottore had given you a cryptic response about making time to see you after he helped chase away a belligerent idiot, something that you found more attractive than was probably morally acceptable. You would go days at a time without seeing the man and wonder if he had gotten busy or simply grown bored of you when he would pop back into your life, like he somehow read your mind and knew you wanted to see him. Given the nature of his role as a Harbinger, part of you wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow could read your mind, but given that he still interacted with you it was reasonable to conclude that he couldn’t read your thoughts. At least, not the embarrassing ones, which in your opinion were the only ones that mattered in this case.

Now you found yourself aimlessly wandering the streets of the market you always preferred to shop at with the tall, cold man in tow. He crept like a shadow as he idly followed you, seemingly wholly content with walking by your side in complete silence.

“So…what was it that brought you to the market today? Did you need more supplies for your research?” You asked politely, taking the opportunity to cast a quick glance at the Harbinger.

The corner of his mouth tapered up ever so slightly, so subtle that you almost wondered if you imagined it as he spoke, “I was not in need of supplies today, (Y/N). I came for other reasons.”

Getting a straight answer out of Dottore was almost like pulling teeth; he seemed to relish in your confusion, a fact which would have been extremely irritating if it was anyone else, but with him it was almost like trying to solve a complicated puzzle, one that you felt like you would feel very rewarded in solving.

You positioned yourself in front of him, walking backwards so that you could continue to face him as you grinned, “What’s the reason you came today then, hm?”

The attempt at being a little flirty was brought to a swift end by your own clumsiness as your back hit a shop’s shelf, making you give a small grunt at the feeling. A piece of pottery on the top shelf rattled at the force, rolling its way to the edge before it dropped off the side, falling swiftly towards your head. You barely had time to react before Dottore swiftly moved closer to you, catching the vase with one hand as he looked at you with what you could only assume to be an amused expression.

“It’s certainly quite fascinating how you’ve managed to survive this long,” Dottore spoke with a hint of mirth in his voice as he gently put the vase back, “You seem to be insistent on getting into all kinds of trouble that requires my intervention.”

The shop keeper, having heard the commotion, stormed up to chastise you both, but upon realizing who you were with, they turned pale and immediately spun on their heels and headed in the opposite direction. Dottore smirked in a way that you were convinced was his way of saying ‘See? I told you so’.

“Well, it’s not my fault you make yourself so dependable,” You teased, but you could feel your face flushing a little bit in embarrassment at your blunder, “At any rate, you still haven’t told me why you’re here. Doesn’t a Harbinger have more pressing matters to attend to than following me around?”

“Perhaps,” He smiled, showing his sharp teeth for a moment as both of you began to aimlessly walk together once more, “But I am here despite my obligations to the Tsaritsa.”

You didn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned that the Doctor seemed to be playing hooky with his duties to Snezhnaya, and it didn’t escape your notice that he continued to dance around your question.

Before you could press again, Dottore gave another cryptic answer, “You could say that I’m actively participating in collecting data for research as we speak.”

You gave him an incredulous look, not believing that he was doing anything even remotely close to research. He didn’t even have a notebook or anything, so what could he possibly be researching?

“And what is it that the Doctor is researching this time? Surely it’s something so spectacular that you don’t have to run any tests or take notes,” You replied with a small laugh, believing him to just be testing you to see how gullible you were.

“You,” Dottore said simply, not even casting a glance in your direction, as though it was the most normal response in the world.

…Huh?

You found your next words leaving your mouth before you could stop yourself, “Is that your way of asking me on a date?”

Dottore stopped in his tracks, making you nearly stumble as you stopped mid-gait as you looked at him. He stared at you intently, or at least you assumed so behind his mask. The damn thing kept you from being able to figure out what was going through his head at the moment. Was he shocked? Angry? Embarrassed? You had no clue. All you knew was that he was staring at you like his life depended on it, not moving a muscle.

“A date,” Dottore slowly repeated, more as a statement than a question.

You swallowed hard, clamming up as you worried that you somehow offended the man in front of you. Perhaps it was presumptuous to assume he was even attracted to your gender, let alone you as an individual.

“U-Um, nevermind, it was…I was just-“ You struggled to come up with a reasonable explanation for what you had said that wasn’t just writing it off as a bad joke, but you were drawing a blank.

Then Dottore gave a small chuckle, his arms crossing over his chest as he replied in an amused tone, “You mean a date as in a romantic outing, do you not?”

Archons, you would give anything to die on the spot right now.

“If you’re into that,” You answered, cringing internally at your own wishy-washy response. Why did you have to dig yourself into an even deeper hole?

The silence was dreadful, and you could only stand there and shift awkwardly as Dottore stared you down through his mask. You wish he would say something, anything, if only to break the tense silence. At this point, you wouldn’t even care if he laughed at you if it meant getting past this awkward moment.

“How amusing,” The Harbinger smirked as he stepped closer to you, making you snap out of your internal lamenting of your awkwardness, “Fine then, we shall go on a date, (Y/N). I believe this could produce quite interesting results.”

You gaped at him for a moment before blinking a few times, “Y-You’re serious? You’ll take me on a date?”

You couldn’t believe you had gotten this far with a man who terrified entire nations. At one point you had convinced yourself he was entirely aromantic and asexual with how little he seemed interested in your average interpersonal relationships. Yet here he was, this stoic, indifferent man was agreeing to go on a date with you. If it were anyone else, you would have assumed they agreed as a joke, but Dottore didn’t seem like the type of man to agree to such a thing on mere humor alone.

“I believe you’ll see just how serious I am very soon,” Dottore spoke with a smug look, “Don’t tell me that you’re trying to back out now, hm? It would be a great disappointment to miss this opportunity.”

There was a certain tone in his voice that felt…slightly detached, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. Considering the man was inherently detached from those around him, you simply wrote it off as just his usual cold mannerisms seeping through.

“No, I’m definitely not backing out,” You insisted, your cheeks heating up a little as you looked at him, “So…when will you take me on a date then?”

Dottore hummed at your response, clearly entertained at your embarrassed state, “I believe I’ll leave that as a surprise. Wouldn’t want to ruin all the fun, now would we?”

Before you could protest at how ridiculous that was, Dottore already started walking off, waving to you over his shoulder as he spoke, “Until next time, (Y/N). I look forward to our date.”

“I- Wait, you can’t just- Are you even listening to me?” You called out to him, but it was clear that he had no intention of returning to the conversation as he disappeared into the crowd. If that man didn’t interest you so much, you would have cursed him out by now with how often he left you puzzled and confused at his actions, you were sure of it. With an exasperated sigh, you began walking back home, but there was a bit of a spring in your step that wasn’t there previously. Dottore was a strange man indeed, but perhaps that meant you were even stranger for seeking his affections.

[littlelamy]

I would luv! A short haired/pixie! reader where she always has short hair/pixie and doesn't want to let it grow out no matter what people says and rafe fell madly in love with her because she's very different to the other girls in the island and she's very confident like kook! Reader but still more nice and polite.

a/n: thank you so much for the request!🤍

the sun hung low over the obx, casting a warm golden hue on the sand as you walked along the shore, your pixie cut catching the breeze. you loved your hair like this—bold and carefree—no matter how many comments you received about it. people often said you’d look prettier with longer locks, but you didn’t care. you were confident in your own skin, and that’s what drew rafe to you like a moth to a flame.

rafe cameron was trouble in the best possible way—charismatic, reckless, and undeniably charming. he often found himself watching you from a distance, captivated by your unique style and the way you carried yourself. while other girls swooned over him, you held your ground, unbothered by the attention he commanded. you were different from the rest, and he loved that.

“hey, pixie,” he called out one evening as you strolled along the water’s edge, your feet leaving little prints in the wet sand. you turned to face him, a playful smirk on your lips.

“what do you want, rafe? can’t you see i’m busy?” you teased, glancing at the ocean, pretending to be engrossed in the view.

“oh, come on. you’re always busy with that hair of yours,” he said, taking a few steps closer, the waves lapping at his feet. “ever thought about letting it grow out? you’d look amazing with long hair.”

“not a chance,” you shot back, running a hand through your short locks defiantly. “this is my style, and i’m not changing for anyone, especially not you.”

“you’re so stubborn,” he grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief as he drew nearer. “but i like that about you.”

“of course you do. you love how different i am,” you replied, confidence radiating from you. “i’m not some cookie-cutter kook like the others.”

“exactly,” he murmured, his gaze intense, making your heart race. “you’re real. and honestly? it’s refreshing.”

you felt a warmth creeping up your neck at the compliment, but you kept your cool. “what’s wrong, rafe? can’t handle a girl who knows what she wants?”

he chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent shivers down your spine. “not at all. i’m just trying to figure out how a girl like you could ever fall for a guy like me.”

“who says i can’t?” you challenged, stepping closer, daring him to make a move. “maybe you just need to try a little harder.”

“oh, i intend to,” he replied, leaning in slightly, his breath warm against your skin. “you might be different, but that just makes you more interesting. and trust me, i’m always up for a challenge.”

you felt the air thicken between you, tension simmering like the ocean waves crashing nearby. the sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the two of you, as if the universe were conspiring to bring you together.

“you think you can handle me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, feeling bold.

“handle you? i’m not sure i want to just handle you. i want to get to know you, all of you,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “that means the good, the bad, and definitely the stubborn.”

your heart fluttered at his words, and you felt an exhilarating mix of excitement and apprehension. “you might regret that,” you replied, playfully biting your lip.

“oh, i won’t,” he said, determination in his eyes. “i want to know what makes you tick. i want to know the girl behind the pixie cut.”

with a huff of laughter, you crossed your arms, pretending to think. “well, you’d better be ready for some surprises. i’m not like the other girls you’re used to, rafe. i don’t play games. i don’t follow rules.”

“good,” he replied, taking another step closer. “i’m not looking for easy. i want the real deal. and that means accepting all your quirks, even the ones that drive me insane.”

“you have no idea what you’re signing up for,” you teased, leaning in slightly, your heart racing. “i can be a handful.”

“bring it on,” he grinned, a challenge dancing in his eyes. “i’m ready for anything you throw my way.”

the moment hung between you, electric and charged with potential. you could feel the chemistry crackling in the air as rafe’s gaze dropped to your lips for just a heartbeat. before you could think, you reached out, teasingly brushing your fingers against his forearm, a simple touch that sent butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“you know,” you began, your voice soft, “you might find me more interesting than the other girls after all.”

“oh, i already do,” he replied, his tone low and serious. “but it’s going to take more than just a few flirty words to get me to back down. i want to know what makes you tick. i want to dive into that fierce little heart of yours.”

“you’re persistent,” you said, feigning exasperation but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “but fine, let’s see if you can keep up.”

rafe stepped even closer, his hand brushing against yours, igniting a fire in your chest. “i’m more than ready. just promise me one thing.”

“what’s that?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“promise you won’t hide behind that hair of yours. i want to see the real you,” he said, his voice earnest.

“you’re getting to know me already,” you replied, grinning. “but alright, i promise. as long as you’re ready for what that means.”

he laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “oh, i’m ready. let the games begin.”

with that, you both turned to the ocean, the sunset painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. this was just the beginning, and you couldn’t wait to see where this unpredictable path with rafe would lead.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @sunny1616

[shentheauthor]

The Nightmare’s Curtain Call

So I have a LOT of thoughts on Grimm, Grimmchild, NKG, and the Nightmare Heart, and I’m about to dump ALL of them. Under the cut, bc it’s so long

First thing’s first, I must clarify: Grimm and the Nightmare HEART are NOT the same entity. I am distinguishing between the Heart and NKG, and I’ll get into it later, but for now, that is important information

Grimm’s deal

The first Grimm was ancient. He was around before the Dream and Nightmare realms split into two

When the schism happened, Grimm was very devoted to the Nightmare Heart’s purpose (more on this later)

So when the Heart was cast into its own, much smaller realm, who heeded its call for aid? That’s right: Grimm

The Heart cannot survive without a body to contain it. However, the body it’s meant for is gone. Grimm volunteered his own body to replace it

Containing the Heart is painful. Agonizingly so. To me, Grimm was once a moth. When he accepted the Heart into his chest, his original heart burned, and his entire body warped into a completely unique bug type

His voice was permanently altered, so even future Grimmchildren would have a hard time speaking without pain

He can no longer fly with his wings, using them as a cloak

As the time of the ritual approaches, the Heart begins to burn his body apart. Grimm is, after all, not a Higher Being. Containing one inevitably causes death and destruction (see: Hollow)

It doesn’t matter how you came to contain a Higher Being— your mortal body cannot sustain it

So a new Grimm must be found

The problem is, the Heart made a deal with Grimm with the last of its strength. It will never, ever recover its full power. So rather than burn itself out trying to find a new host, it’s easier to find a loophole

Each Grimmchild is created from the Heart’s flames, and it shares Grimm’s name and face. Technically speaking, Grimm is still the host. No unnecessary energy needs to be expended by the Heart.

There have been many generations of Grimm. The Radiance is old, calling the Void an “ancient enemy.” While it may not have necessarily been her as she is in game, she still has memories from the first Dream God’s lifetime. The Heart is the same.

Each Grimm receives the memories of the Heart and the previous Grimm, as each Grimm who dies is absorbed into the flames. However, every Grimm is slightly different from the last, based on who raised them. Needless to say, many a Grimm has not been happy with their arrangement, as their autonomy was taken away generations back

The Grimm we meet is somewhere along the lines of the 20th-25th Troupe Master

The Nightmare Heart

The Heart is interesting, because it’s not a Higher Being in the traditional sense. It is, quite literally, the still-beating heart of the original Dream God. It’s sentient, yes, but it doesn’t look or act like how you’d expect a god to

It’s pretty single-minded in following its purpose: cleanse the dream realm, recycle, burn

Basically it functions as both the heart and the liver. Dreams circulate through it, both good and bad, but the nightmares are the most important part. They keep the good/light dreams moving by providing a route for them to go through.

In its duties as the liver, it takes dreams that have “stagnated” or “corrupted,” processes them, and turns them into nightmares. It’s like a detoxification. If left to fester, well, you get things like the radiance that turn bitter and angry and cruel. Nightmares are necessary to help us process the fear that we feel!

The Heart cannot survive when cut off from its body. Conversely, the body cannot survive when cut off from the Heart. The Radiance and the Heart formed when the original Dream God’s body died, expelling both of them

They were meant to work together, still. But their ideas clashed, and neither really understood the consequences of separating. So their realms were cut apart, leaving both of their other halves to rot

Yes, the Heart is dying. It doesn’t matter if you stop the ritual or not. It will eventually perish. No amount of Grimms can heal it, because it will never be given enough time with any of them to truly start working again

The Heart and the Troupe are left to pick up the pieces of rotting kingdoms, because that’s all they have the power to do anymore. If they try to resume their original duties, the Heart won’t be able to keep up. It’s like when someone drinks heavily and doesn’t give the liver time to recover. The Heart is forced to regulate itself, even though it wants to regain its old power

The Radiance was dying long before the Pale King came around. That’s why she reacted the way she did. She didn’t want to die any faster

Nightmare King Grimm

Ok! So! The Heart and Grimm are not the same being, but what about NKG?

The answer is: it’s complicated

NKG is sort of a fusion between the two. He is birthed from the Heart, so you can think of him as like… a new being? Almost?

It’s Grimm and the Heart formed into one. In order to burn the father, he must fully embrace the flames and let them destroy his mortal shell

Afterwards, Grimm becomes part of the Heart. Another nightmare to be recycled.

NKG is stronger and faster than Grimm, but he will burn out and die more quickly too. Once Grimm dies, his flames and the Nightmare Heart transfer to the Grimmchild, killing NKG in the process

The next NKG will be the next Grimm, and so on and so forth

Ending the ritual

Ending the ritual is actually pretty dang bad!

The dreams and regrets of dying kingdoms NEED to be processed, or they will fester. Like the infection. Yes the Infection is a major result of the Heart not being there to detoxify the Radiance’s stagnant dreams that she’s forcing on everyone. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the two had never separated

Now this is not to say that Brumm is bad. Quite the opposite actually. He is correct! The ritual is torture! It’s genuinely awful for every Grimm involved, especially because NONE of them except for the first consented!

The thing is, regardless of whether you stop the ritual or not, the Heart will die. It’ll just die faster if you stop it

Stopping the ritual is Very painful, and the Grimm will die anyway, leaving the Heart to drift until it can gather its strength enough to form another Grimmchild. Note: the previous Grimm’s memories will NOT be absorbed into the heart— so in a way, he’s free!

When you join the Troupe, you lose your name and memories, even your original body. This is by design. The Nightmare Heart recycles and destroys, it does not preserve. The flames cleanse your body, mind, and soul, leaving a blank slate.

Leaving the troupe, your body is returned, but your mind is not. Nymm has amnesia, but he clearly knows how to function as a normal bug. This is why I think that, upon leaving the troupe, all of your memories from your time with them is gone. Everything from before is gone. However, you will still remember bits and pieces— like how Nymm thinks the carefree melody charm is familiar, and it makes him think of something he forgot

When Nightmares Die

What happens when the Heart dies? I’m glad you asked

Put simply, everyone still in the Troupe will either be banished, or consumed by the flames. It depends on what they desire, and how the Heart feels when its demise comes

As for Grimm… the Heart will cannibalize him. No traces of him will be left. He was the original kindling, after all. A dying god will cling to any fuel it can get. Unfortunately, that fuel is Grimm. And sadly, it won’t do anything to help

After the Heart dies, the world will find equilibrium again… but it will be hard. After the Radiance dies, the Dream Realm is not gone! The same is true for the Heart.

It will change, for sure. It will be a lot harder to figure out. But it will still be there

Slowly, but surely, things will return to how they should be. Dreams and Nightmares will work in tandem again, their realms merging smoothly as they once were. Maybe someday, a new Dream God will be formed, to continue the cycle all over again. Maybe not. Who can say?

All that will be left of the Grimm Troupe is a few bugs without memories, and with a strange sense of nostalgia for something they never experienced

[lottiesnotebook]

happy DADWC! for some horror, how about “There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.” for Hawke/Anders/Justice?

So this turned out to be way more than a snippet, which always happens when I start to write these three! I hope you're alright with a longer fic than usual, because editing it down is not in the spirit of the evening… I also thought this would end up slightly more horror than hurt/comfort, but… Anyway, please enjoy Justice experiencing the Horrors of his first ever crush (with a lot of angst for Anders on the side.)

Rhiannon Hawke/Anders/Justice, pining, angst, hurt/comfort, the mortifying ordeal of being known, pre-relationship, Justice character study

@saladruiner | @dadrunkwriting

a hole in my soul

Mortals do not love as spirits love. Justice has always known this, at least in theory. To love, for a spirit, is to be drawn to another's nature like a moth to a flame, whether out of similarity or compatibility or fascination. To love, between spirits, is to entwine, to commingle, to merge and perhaps become something greater than your individual parts, until your mutual purpose is fulfilled and your natures pull you apart. Mortal dreamers use the same language for their desires, but the deeds and emotions they associate with them are so different as to be unrecognisable - to be drawn to a fellow spirit or mortal soul has never driven Justice to consume or possess them, to take from them until there is nothing of what he loved that remains. It has never left him raw and agonised in its removal, its absence. He is- he was complete in himself. There was no space for yearning for anything beyond his purpose within his nature.

Since he was cast from the Fade, he has learned much of mortal love in absentia. He feels it in the ache in Kristoff's breast when Aura looks at him with revulsion, the ghosts of a thousand smiles and tender moments that exist now only in stolen memories. He feels in the frantic beat of Anders' heart when he wakes from a nightmare or a different sort of dream weeping Karl, Karl, Karl. He feels it when they let their magic burn through the man he loved, and through the Templars who killed him. It is an open, unhealing wound, and no matter how much magic or lyrium or vengeance he pours into the space it left, he cannot heal it. Love, to mortals, then, is an injury that never heals, and he will protect Anders from suffering it again at all costs.

He cannot, therefore, tell him I love you in good conscience, for all that what they have become- what they are, monstrous though it may seem to his mortals, is love incarnate to spirits and demons alike. They are united in form, in purpose, in goal, and there is no being in the Fade or the mortal world he would prefer to be entangled with than Anders, now that they are one.

It pains him, that the name mortal tongues give to what they share is abomination, that Anders can only call what they share as corruption rather than love. Not the lack of reciprocation, exactly - mortals do not love as spirits do, and the emotions Anders feels towards Justice (guilt, warmth, shame, affection) are a pale shadow to the searing grief of Karl's absence - but the fact that Anders cannot see the beauty in what they share through the horror, and that is in part Justice's fault. His rage, his vengeance, after all, destroyed the Templars who sought to tear them apart, for all that Anders blames himself.

All this, though, he can accept. Love, even unrequited, is as ancient as mortal hearts and dreaming. It will not destroy him, and he will not permit it to destroy Anders. Desire is an entirely different matter.

He feels it spark beneath Anders' skin the first time Rhiannon Hawke brushes her fingers against his arm, the warmth of her fingers tangible even through the thick fabric of their sleeve, and he flinches back from it. Anders' surprise mingles with disapproval, mingles with irritation.

"Am I not even allowed to enjoy looking at beautiful people any more?" he complains to their reflection, and Justice feels himself twist in confusion, in shame.

I did not- she was a distraction, he defends himself. The contact was unexpected. I did not know you would welcome it.

"From Hawke?" He can feel Anders' disbelief radiate through both of them. "Have you seen her? She could touch far more than my arm if she wanted- if things were different," he amends, his gaze sliding away from his own reflection, and he feels it pulse again - the agony of love's absence, where Karl Thekla used to sit between his ribs.

I do not wish you to be hurt, he offers, and Anders makes a scoffing sound low in his throat.

"You don't want me distracted," he retorts.

The two motivations are not in conflict, Justice says, tries to flood their bond with the affection he feels, the worry, but Anders cannot accept them. Our purpose cannot be fulfilled if you suffer.

"I've been suffering all my life," he grumbles, "Why should this be any different?"

It is not a question that Justice can answer, and so they fall to silence, the bond between them an uncomfortable, fractious thing that he cannot soothe, however hard he tries.

Hawke could soothe it, he thinks, bitterly, with her glib tongue and bright smile and warm hands that make Anders' nerves sing like lyrium beneath his skin, but Justice, at least in this world, this place, cannot be soothing, cannot be ameliorative. Justice in Kirkwall is a broken bone never set, a gnawing hunger never sated, and this does not make for a comfortable life to share, however much he wishes Anders to be comfortable, however much his beloved deserves comfort in a world that has too often been cruel to him.

He feels the ache for it secondhand, through their shared skin, whenever Rhiannon Hawke laughs or smiles or reaches out a tentative hand, awaiting permission to touch them again, and, if not for the pain that lay in wait after such tenderness, he would almost be tempted to surrender, to say: go to her, let her give you what comfort she can.

But he knows the agony of love when it is taken away, and it will be taken from them, as it was from Kristoff, from Aura, from Anders when he lost Karl. It is a beautiful, impermanent thing, but its beauty is not worth the havoc it wreaks in its wake, and Anders has faced far too much of that havoc in his short mortal life to suffer further from it.

So yes, he knows that desire is a danger, both for his host and for himself - he has seen how it has warped others of his kind, twisting them away from their purpose, and he does not intend to be so transformed. He is guarded, he is wary - and still he is unprepared for it when it comes upon him, when Rhiannon Hawke reaches out to seize his hand mid-battle and press it to the side of a frightened apprentice mage who'd just attempted to set fire to her hair.

"Heal him!" she orders, and he does, but first, he feels himself burn beneath his skin with sudden, fearful want. She is not Anders - she does not have his intimate knowledge of the world's injustice, or the rage and loathing they both feel when it is enacted, but in this moment, he sees every bit of the warmth, the beauty that has drawn Anders in like a moth to a flame. He sees Mercy incarnate, and the urge to keep hold of her hand, to entangle himself with her as he would if they were both spirits, rises up to choke him.

His love for Anders is as much a part of his nature as his purpose, now, but this- this is something alien, some flaw in his nature, or that of the body he inhabits. It is well to be drawn to Rhiannon for her mercy, for her fairness, but he should not long for the touch of her hand on his, should not meet her eyes and feel the song of lyrium burn through him, should not see her dark hair cling to her sweat-streaked skin and itch to smooth it to order again. These are not desires a spirit of justice should possess.

I think, he murmurs to Anders, one morning as he shaves, when he can see his lovely, beloved face well enough to read the emotions that flicker across it, you were right, when you said I was becoming corrupted.

Anders' hand jolts as he speaks - the razor draws a line of bright blood against the red-gold of his stubble, the pale foam of the soap. Justice forces his fingers to open. The razor clatters into the basin with a splash. Anders stares at its palm as though it is no longer his own.

"Right." His voice is shaking, and Justice can feel his lips peel back into a smile that feels hideously, monstrously false. "I suppose now I get to say 'I told you so', right?"

I did not say you corrupted me, Justice corrects him, hastily. This is not a burden Anders must bear - he cannot help Justice's weakness, or the flaws of his own flesh. I meant- there is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.

Anders flexes his fingers again, then, cautiously, covers its wrist with his other hand. "My anger-" he begins, and Justice interrupts, before he can spiral into self-loathing once more.

Not your anger, he corrects. Wrath and Justice are far closer than you like to acknowledge. This is… something else.

"Tell me," Anders demands, and, when he does not respond immediately: "Justice, please. You can't tell me you're becoming a demon and just- leave it at that!"

The words start off as falsely light and playful, as Anders always begins when he is covering up some darker emotion, but something harsh and unhappy breaks through towards the end - fear, he realises. Anders is afraid for him.

I do not have words for this, he says, and it is true. There is no language he knows for this- wanting that is far more of the body than of the mind. Mortals speak of it, he knows, but till now, he's had little cause to listen.

"Then show me," Anders demands, and - blessed, cruel, overwhelming - opens his mind fully to Justice, and for a moment the bliss of connection, of love fulfilled if only for a moment, and he feels Anders gasp, the weight of Justice knocking the breath from his lungs.

This, Justice says, when he can surface long enough to pull together the images, the sensations - Hawke's face glowing with fierce determination, her voice taut but determined: Heal him!, her lyrium-bright eyes, the brief heat of her hand on his-

And Anders, bewildering as always, begins to laugh. To laugh so hard, in fact, that he shakes, that his knees buckle, that he has to sit down right there on the floor of the clinic, holding his knees as if otherwise the laughter will shake him to pieces.

This is not amusing, Justice informs him. I am- becoming warped by carnal desire! I am no better than the demons who misled the unfortunate souls of Kinloch Hold! Anders, I- I want. Beyond the bounds of my purpose, I want her.

"Justice," Anders informs him, when he catches his breath, "As a healer, I am afraid the diagnosis is far more dire than that."

What, pray tell, could be worse than corrupting my own nature and yours into a warped perversion of our true selves?

Anders lays a hand to his cheek, and Justice feels the warmth of connection surge through him, of comfort, something he has never wanted- never needed before, and something like an echo of the lyrium-song flashes through his skin. He flinches back from it, and Anders, gently, tenderly, returns the hand to his cheek anyway.

"Justice, my friend, my better half," he says, though he is still trying to swallow his laughter, "I suspect you are suffering from lovesickness."

This is not a joke!

"I am not joking," Anders soothes. "I've taken a look at your symptoms, and- Justice, you have a crush."

That seems to be the right word for it. Justice feels truly crushed by the mortification of the revelation.

Spirits are not meant to have- crushes, he says, resentfully.

"Yes, I know, you're above all that, with your glorious ethereal commingling of natures-"

I did not say they were base or foul, merely- antithetical to our nature.

"Not so very antithetical, apparently-" Anders pauses, takes a breath, seems to calm: "This is really what you fear corrupting you? Not my anger? Not- what we did, when we left the Wardens?"

Anger is a part of my nature, as it is yours. This… this is something alien to me.

Anders joins their hands, then, and Justice squeezes them together, making him laugh. "Not so alien," he says, soft and wondering. "You- you love me. Even now, knowing what you know."

I always have. He lets it flow through him, now that the walls between them are eroding, lets it spill over the aching wound where love has always sat within him, hopes it will dilute some of the pain. This would not be possible, if I did not.

He does not expect it to be reciprocated, but he feels it nonetheless - the secondhand lyrium-song that rushes through him, its sweetness, its familiarity.

"This is how love begins, for some of us mortals," Anders tells him.

It is not so, for spirits. He shows him flickering images of Anders as he has always seen him, his stubborness, his resilience, the wrongness he sees within the world and longs to put right, all the things that drew Justice to him like a moth to a flame, less desire than magnetism, the inevitable pull of their natures to each other.

"But your body is mortal now," Anders reminds him. "Is it corruption, to take on some of its traits?"

Is it corruption, Justice echoes, for your soul to carry the weight of my anger? For mine to hold some of your bitterness?

They do not know the answers any more - the truths their worlds tell them are too different, too disparate. But for once, the bond between them is a flood of joy and affection rather than a tightrope to walk, and surely there can be no evil in that, for all that they do not understand it yet.

[jstarr86]

Randomness in my head hope you enjoy. OC face claim will be Guilia

Italics are Japanese Bold Italic is Text

The best kept secret of NJPW. At least they had been until he left. Drawn like a moth to a flame it was a whirlwind of passion; at least it had been until he revealed he was leaving. He was going back to America and he couldn’t even give her a heads up. She didn’t find out until after his match during the post match interview when he’d dropped a bomb. Her water bottle hitting the floor as liquid poured out as she stood shocked but quickly cleaned up the mess pretending that she hadn’t heard the words he’d spoken. Later her phone rang half tempted to hit the fuck you button she instead did as she always had and swiped right accepting the call.

“What?”

“You free.”

“Mhmm.”

“You good Kaira.”

“I’m fine Tama. The door will be unlocked.” She said hanging up. She signed taking a quick shower and changing and laying across her bed. She heard the door open as he arrived and soon enough his frame was standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Sup beautiful.”

“You tell me.”

“What?”

“Where you gonna tell me your leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“When?” She questioned as he looked stuck making her chuckle bitterly.

“Yeah”

“ when on the flight back to America. Asshole.”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“Yeah you are.”

“Makaira.”

“What.”

“You forreal mad.”

“Nope don’t fucking care.”

“Yeah you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be this pissed.” She rolled her eyes the taller in her hardened face slightly breaking as he leaned over her pressing his soft lips into the back of her shoulder. His bronze skin contrast against hers.

“I’m still upset with you.”

“Why baby. I’m sorry”

“You could have told me instead of me finding out like that.”

“I know I’m sorry, just, I miss. I miss my kids Makaira they’re growing up without me.”

“And I understand that I’d never stand in your way but a heads up would’ve been nice.”

She slapped him lightly as the aggressively fucked. Never had sex between them been so passionate yet volatile; but nonetheless amazing. He smacked ass in response gently gripping her throat feeling the moan she tried to suppress causing him to smirk and flip them over tossing one of her legs over his shoulder as she responded loudly her head going back as his lips met her throat.

“When are you leaving?” She asked as they lay in bed his fingers trailing up and down her side.

“The end of next month.” She nodded not speaking no words to say, then again what could she really say. She knew it was over, that whatever the past few years had been was coming to an end a end she didn’t know what to feel about. His last night came faster than either had thought or liked for that matter.

Can I see you she looked at her phone as it dinged it was late she contemplated ignoring him saying no but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, he’d started to mean too much; more than she’d ever let him know.

You have your kid with you

He’s asleep and my brothers can watch him. Can I see you

Fine

“Welcome to the WWE Makaira.”

“Thank you.” Leaving the meeting she grabbed lunch and went back to her new home. A nice little two bedroom apartment in Orlando. The warm Florida sun a huge contrast. Perpetual summer not seasons like she’s been used to in Japan. Part of her missed home but she knew this was where she belonged. The past few months had been hard, he’d left and almost taken a piece of her with him. Harder he’d left a piece of himself, at least for a few a bit over a month. Something that had shocked and terrified her. But she didn’t get to enjoy it or hell even tell him. A mere week and a half after finding out she damn near collapsed in pain at home there was so much blood. She made it to the hospital only to find out she was losing the fetus the last piece of him.

Ironically after he’d left a few months later she had a call and offer from the same company. They’d even offered to wait for her, to finish out the few shows she’d signed for with other places. She’s finally lost her beloved NJPW women’s title to her friend Mercedes and she dropped her tag title. Thankfully shouldn’t have to see him at least not much. He’d been immediately sent to the main roster she on the other hand was going NXT. Then again that would be under Shawn Michaels one of if not ther favorite wrestler. She sighed packing.

She sighed packing her bags. Training had been ok training was going good, she got along well with generally everyone and she’d managed to evade him, easier done on different brands. She looked up when commotion started and her throat tightened as her stomach rose to her throat. He was here. He was beating up the tag teams in the ring leaving the back scrambling.

She quickly grabbed her things leaving she couldn’t face him. Why was he here why had they done this. God he looked beautiful and she couldn’t help her eyes trailing over his shredded frame. She shook her head clear of reminiscing of her hands trailing those defined muscles and abruptly left hands shaking as she desperately tried to get the right key as she made her way to her car she heard the doors burst open and their loud voices. She tossed her bags in her car the noise suddenly quieting and she made the mistake as she went to open her door if looking up and her eyes locked with his, her breath hitching.

“Makaira.” She didn’t hear him but she could read his lips and what he said. She quickly got in starting the car and only stopping slamming her breaks as he stood in the way leaving her no other choice but to stop because she wouldn’t run him over. Her eyes glanced to where his brother and his guess kinda cousin stood watching in confusion. “Open the door.” She shook her head waving her hand for him to move. He leaned over putting his hands on her hood “I’m getting in.”

“No.”

“Makaira Sakari Deschene.” Her eyes widened as he spoke angrily saying her full name. She saw his brothers eyebrow raise. “Jacob come here.” As he walked over he pointed. “Stay here so she can’t move.” He came to her door leaning down “unlock the door.”

“Go away.”

“Unlock the fucking door awee.” She paused as he spoke calling her baby but she was shocked not knowing he knew the word let alone the meaning. Her fathers native language. She looked at him trying to keep the hard look through the cracked window she was between a rock and a hard place clearly he wanted to talk and she didn’t really have a choice unless she wanted to commit vehicular manslaughter. She sighed angrily tossing the car in park and hitting unlock as he walked around the car and got in shutting the door. He rolled the window down sticking his head out. “I’ll hit y’all up later.” He then looked at her. “Drive.” She took a deep breath silently listening as Jacob moved and she drove off. The awkwardness filling the space.

“Where am I going?” She asked quietly soft voice barley above a whisper but she knew he heard her, his head turning towards her out of her peripheral was indication

“I fuck it your place or wait do you got a roommate?”

“No.” She drove home parking her car she felt him behind her as she walked. Goosebumps lining her pale skin that came with her mixed heritage. Half Japanese and half Native American. Her parents had met while her father had been stationed with the army in Japan.

“This looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

“How’ve you been.”

“What do you want?” She asked. She didn’t know what to feel, angry, sad, happy, nothing even looking at him was hard things he didn’t know that she couldn’t tell him, would never tell him.

“You left Japan.”

“So.”

“Didn’t ever see that one.”

“Yeah well pay good it’s WWE.” She replied her slight accent in her voice.

“I didn’t think you’d ever leave, especially you’re parents.”

“Speaking of parents how is yours.” She asked

“Good you?”

“Good.” She sighed looking at him “what do you want Tama.”

“I, I missed you.” She rolled her eyes. He hadn’t so much had called

“Missed, missed me.” She bitterly laughed as he looked a mix of annoyed and hurt. “You don’t miss me you miss body.”

“You were more than that.”

“Was I?” She asked “tell me what was then. Late nights sex stolen moments. The best secret no one knew of.”

“Hitori knew.”

“What?”

“He knew he called me out my last night, he knew for months.”

“So.”

“So nothing we had something.”

“Sex we had sex.”

“It was more than that and you know it.”

“Wherever Tama.” He abruptly stood mere inches from her as he reached out to touch her. Large warm hand gently meeting her check, his long fingers curling around the neck as his thumb softly rubbed her cheek.

“I missed you Kai.” He spoke softly but with conviction. Her eyes met his, looking briefly over his face his brown eyes pool of chocolate shed drunkenly told him one night they reminded her of chocolate chips while she munched on chocolate chip cookies making him laugh. The scar on his forehead. His soft thick lips with a perfect cupids how enough to make a any girl jealous. His long eyelashes shed once pranked him as he slept in exhaustion and put mascara on him he hadn’t been that happy after that the facial hair he’d dyed covering the grays that she’d liked. The salt and pepper creeping into his beard she’d found attractive.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t.” She barley whispered before his lips met hers. Passion igniting into an inferno as they tasted each other for the first time in months. She pulled away as hard as it was both their chest heaving. “I I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” He asked quietly his low voice sending shivers down her spine

“This I we can’t.”

“Why can’t we.”

“I’m ou know why.”

“No I don’t. We had something Makaira it was special.”

“It was a hidden secret for years.”

“Because that’s what we agreed on shit you didn’t think I didn’t wanna let people know, that I didn’t think about throwing it all out the window every time I saw you.”

“I-“

“If you believe that your fucking crazy.”

“I-“

“Please, let me love you.”

“You can’t love me, you have a life, you have kids.”

“I had a kid the whole time we was together pick a different excuse. After everything we’ve been thru Makaira.”

“I-.” He cut her off kissing her more passionately then she’d ever experienced and it took her breath away. She knew her resolve was cracking if anything he’d always been her weakness, since whatever this was started. “We live different lives now.”

“Nah we don’t we live in the same world.” He said pressing his lips to hers

“Different brand different schedule, I-“

“Stop the bullshit excuses.”

“I-“

“I think I love you.”

“No you don’t it’s just sex.”

“Because that’s what you want I want more I’ve been wanting more. Sex isn’t love love is seeing someone at their worst and still choosing to love them.”

“You haven’t seen my worst.”

“Than let me.”

“Tama- I.” He kissed her again slowly but surely short circuiting her brain “Everyone’s gonna think I only got hired for fucking you.”

“Man fuck what everyone thinks, you’re here because you’re one of the best and deserve it, no one even knew about the past few years and shit for a half year we wasn’t even together because of lockdown I was in Florida and you were still in Japan.” She grabbed his head bringing his tall frame down to hers their kiss heated as she ran her hands over his torso feeling his defined muscles before bring her hands back up sliding them over his shoulders and around his neck as their kiss heated up. She squealed in his mouth as he lifted her effortlessly into his arms blindly walking. Almost like he knew where to go as she felt the bed meet her back, for never being here he sure figured his way around fast.

“Oh my god” she moaned loudly. She’d forgotten how amazing he was when it came to intimacy.

“You gonna get a damn noise complaint.”

“Fuck the noise.” She gasped out “Tama” she cried out in pleasure clingling to him nails raking down his muscular back as he grunted in pain. Her hips moving involuntarily making him sink deeper as they chased a release and high they both didn’t know they’d missed.

“Ofa atu.”

“Ayoo’aniinishni.” She replied as they kissed while trying to regulate their breaths. He eventually moved off her pulling her small frame into his arms. “Now what?” She asked tracing the tattoo on his forearm. The intricate art fascinating her. She’d eventually gotten a tattoo hidden even from her parents a small sakura blossom on her hip, the only person to ever see it had been him.

“We make it work. W make it work.” He said kissing her head as he felt her breathe even out as she fell asleep. A small smirk gracing his face as he turned into her breathing in her scent as he let himself fall asleep.

Awee means baby in Navajo

Ofa atu means I love you in Tongan

Ayoo’aniinishni means I love you in Navajo

[resident-gay-bitch]

mommy issues

part 18 / contents

eddie picked up the phone as it rang, as quickly as he could so it wouldn’t wake wayne, “hello?”

“yo, dude.” it was gareth, “i’m about to get the lovebirds, we want burgers. you coming?”

“yeah.” eddie nodded, “i’ll be out in five.”

“okay, see ya then.”

eddie hung up the phone and hurried down to his room, changing his shirt from his fuck off of a fathers to a more acceptable faded old ratty metallica one that the moths may or may not have gotten too. he pulled on a zip up hoodie, and threw one of wayne’s jackets on over the top, because even though it was summer, eddie knew gareth was going to blast his goddamned aircon way too high and he’d shiver without it. he tugged on his boots and checked his hair in the mirror.

it was so smooth now.

you worked wonders.

he heard the car horn out the front and pulled the collar of his hoodie up high around his neck to cover it. he rushed out the door with a bright smile.

eddie shut the door and turned around to see gareth and grant in the front seats raising their hands in the air in a stupid sort of dance, and jeff was leant forward between the front two seats doing the funky monkey. eddie laughed and rushed for the backseat.

he slid in, the hoodie still secure around his neck. he pulled the door shut at the loud blast of gareth’s metal tape consumed the small space. they all started to headbang along as gareth pulled out onto the road again.

the music was turned down after a minute.

“what did you do to it, man?” grant asked, holding up a dishevelled action figure he found on the ground, “he’s dead!”

“oh, don’t even, man.” gareth shook his head, “i was picking up steph last night and it was on the seat, and she like… looked at it for a bit and then just tossed it on the ground and i was like, whatever. i’ll pick it up after, she’s a bitch. but then, when we got back into the car after raiding the seven eleven i saw shed crushed it with her pristine fucking sneakers, and so i just took her home.”

“what the fuck, she crushed it?” jeff asked, shocked.

“obliterated it.”

“awh man,” eddie said, reaching forward to grab it and inspect the poor toy himself, “fuck, this was your new character!”

“i know!” gareth gasped, “she didn’t even apologise.”

“dump the whore.” jeff said.

“i agree.” eddie blew a raspberry and tossed the action figure into the front dash, “she’s done to many mean things to my garebear.” eddie gave gareth’s shoulders a squeeze from behind him.

“shut the fuck up, eddie.” gareth sneered, giving him a glance though the review mirror.

“sometimes i think you two have move chemistry than jeff and i, and we’re literally in love.” grant commented and it made eddie and gareth laugh.

eddie wrapped his arms around gareth’s seat and chest in an attempted a hug, “it’s because he’s been my secret lover all this time, haven’t you shnookums?”

gareth hummed and made kissy faces, turning his cheek slightly so eddie could smack one on him, “hmm, the best damn sex i’ve ever had, babylove.”

“weird bromance aside,” jeff said, grabbing eddie’s shoulder and pulling him back into his own seat, “they have a point. she’s a bitch.”

“she’s a hot bitch.” gareth pointed back at him, “and she really really likes having sex with me.”

“you’ve cheated on me now, garebear?” eddie gasped, “i’m heartbroken.”

gareth poked his tounge out at eddie through the review mirror, “look, can we not talk about stephanie? i’m trying to avoid that headache right now.”

“affirmative, cappin’.” eddie muttered, putting on some strange voice that didn’t make sense and saluting.

“yeah, alright.” grant nodded, “but you can’t avoid it forever.”

“got it.” gareth clicked his tongue and turned a corner, “what do you fuckers want?”

“you.” eddie hummed, “always you, lover.”

“you’re going to make me sick.” jeff deadpanned him.

eddie dove for him, poking his tongue out and trying to lick jeff’s face.

“you’re an animal!” jeff tried to shove him off.

“hey! hey!” gareth called out, “no fighting… or… getting frisky in the back of my car.”

eddie managed to stab his tongue into the high of jeff’s cheek and he pulled away with a laugh, and jeff wiped the very little slobber away in a dramatic feat and wined.

“i’ve been contaminated. i’ve got hetero-cooties!”

“oh, ease up, jeff.” grant said with a laugh, “we all know eddie’s not straight.”

eddie retaliated by shoving his boot forward into grants chest.

“why are we friends with him?” gareth asked and it made eddie cackle.

“i dunno man.” jeff shrugged, “we thought you were cool, but apparently he just fucking follows you everywhere.”

“like a shaddow.” grant added, flaring his hands out for dramatics.

“aww, you want me to follow you boys around too?” eddie hummed, batting his eyelids at a rapid pace, “you jealous?”

“i’d rather die.” jeff said plainly.

“can you lot shut up and tell me what you want?” gareth shouted, “we’re fucking here.”

“milkshake, fries.” eddie said, pulled himself forward to kiss gareth’s cheek again.

“ew.” gareth wiped the ‘slobber’ off and wiped it on grants leg.

“dude!” grant wailed.

“i’ll have a cheese burger.” jeff cut in, ever the calm one, “large coke and some fries.”

“i’ll have the same, but a chicken cheese instead.”

“got it.” gareth nodded and slid up to the window of the diner, which was trying a new drive through feature out which these boys absolutely adored on a saturday afternoon.

gareth made the order and held his hand out, and everyone slapped down their change to pay for their meals. once the food was collected (and more petty bickering was made), gareth drove into the carpark and cut the engine. the food was handed out, and there was peace, just for a moment.

“eddie, you want front seat?” grant asked, shoving fries into his mouth.

“yeah!” eddie grinned, slurping his shake.

grant opened the passenger door and rolled out before slamming it shut, and eddie grabbed his things and climbed through the centre console to plop down on the seat.

“dude!” gareth slapped his calves, “feet off the leather- do you know how much this car cost?”

“more than me, i know.” eddie drawled with a roll of his eyes, “got it, dad.”

gareth squinted his eyes and then reached into the takeaway bag and pulled something out, handing it to eddie.

eddie gasped excitedly and set his drink down between his feet. he was sitting with his back to the door and his knees curled up to his chest so he could face everyone in the car. he made grabby hands for what gareth was holding.

“you got me pie?” eddie asked.

gareth pulled it back with a mean grin, “well, i might have.”

“what?” eddie asked, knowing he’d have to do something to get it.

now that he’d seen free pie on the horizon, he really fucking wanted it.

g cleared his throat, “so… upgraded from mechanic to plumber, huh?”

eddie squinted his eyes at his best friend, and then even more at the other two who were looking at him with smug grins.

“yeah, bet you fixed her pipes real good.” grant said and then snickered.

eddie’s eyes widened with the realisation as to what they were talking about.

“shut up.”

“status report?” gareth asked.

eddie looked at him for a moment, trying to hold back a grin, and then he yanked the collar of his hoodie down to show his neck.

the boys went crazy. they all held up their hands and shook them out and did this stupid thing they all do when they pretend they’re overly excited popular girls in movies and squeal for good news. so that’s what the did, they all shook their hands and squealed for eddie.

he cupped his hands over his mouth and cleared his throat, fixing his voice to sound robotic and deep and said, “status updated from; virgin nerd, to; stepmother-fucking nerd!”

they all squealed again.

“dude! no way.” gareth slapped eddie’s knees.

“yes way!” eddie laughed, “dude, it was so hot- her shower was not broken, by the way. it was all a ploy to take me to bed-“

“dude…” jeff laughed, “we know.”

“that’s like… the most classic line in the book.” gareth agreed.

“what?” eddie’s arms dropped, “well, i didn’t know.”

gareth pulled a strange face and handed the pie over to eddie, “it astounds me how thick headed you can be sometimes.”

“well, so-rry for not assuming my stepmother was trying to lure me to bed.” eddie hummed, chomping into it, and it was apple today, one of his favourites, “i’m just not a dirty minded fuck like you lot.”

“well, that’s the biggest pile of shit i’ve ever heard.” grant snickered.

eddie swatted at him, and then grant swatted back, so eddie lunged forward to grab his head and shove it down, but grant grumbled and wrestled eddie’s arms back.

“can you-“ jeff tried to cut in by pulling their arms apart, but it was no feat, “jesus-“

“someones a little excited today, i think.” gareth laughed and poked eddie’s neck, “she really did some damage, ed.”

eddie, suddenly forgetting all about his attack on poor grant in the back seat, slumped back against the door wirh a dopey grin and sipped on his chocolate shake, “yeah…” he giggled, like a love sick girl.

“oh my god,” jeff said, leaning his head between the two front seats to look at eddie better, “you are a mess.”

“what did she do to you?” gareth asked in shock.

eddie giggled again, “she took my virginity.”

all the guys laughed at him, happy smiles. eddie knew they were making fun, of course they were, eddie was acting like he was twelve again, but he also knew they weren’t actually judging. they were happy for him, this was just really amusing.

“so…” grant shook his head at eddie, “you going to disclose all the juicy details, or are you going to leave us hanging?”

“well!” eddie said, sipping his shake one last time before sitting it down. he cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, “it was… phenomenal. literally the best sex anyone’s ever had, i’m sure.”

“yes, obviously.” gareth dead panned him, “because you, a lanky nerd virgin freak knows how to fuck.”

eddie kicked him, “like you’re any better- and i’m not lanky, thank you. i’m just… tall. i have muscles.”

“sure you do,” grant poked his shin, “twiggie.”

eddie sneered at him, “she happens to think i do, thank you. and i can pick her up with ease, so that’s all that matters.”

“oh, so there was picking up involved?” gareth asked, taking a bite of his burger without paying attention to it, and sauce dribbled down his front.

eddie grabbed a napkin and tossed it at him, “no, not… during. i just- i’ve picked her up before. she likes to be manhandled, i think.”

“hmm, who doesn’t?” gareth asked, wiping his front and making missy faces at eddie, “i want you to pick me up and toss me around, big boy.”

eddie grinned at him, “oh, lover, why didn’t you ask sooner?”

“gag.” jeff said without a hint of emotion, “i’m gagging right now. this is so gross.”

“does anyone have a knife so i can cut my ears off?” grant asked, “i don’t want to hear anything, ever again.”

eddie and gareth laughed.

“okay, well…” eddie cleared his throat again and ate some of his fries, “first- oh, after she spat in my mouth and told me i had to do as she said-“

“oh, fuck man…” gareth looked at him wearily, “she was in control?”

eddie nodded, “full on in control.”

“dude.” gareth pulled at his cheeks, “that’s so hot.”

“a woman in control is hot-“ grant said.

“hey!” jeff slapped his arm, “boyfriend in the car.”

grant grinned at him, “women in control is hot, but you’re hotter.”

“ew!” eddie said, “gag! i’m literally gagging!”

“cut off my ears!” gareth said, laughing with eddie now, “you’re so gross!”

they both had a hand shoved into their face.

“please, continue, i’m hooked.” jeff said, leaning over the seat to look at eddie eagerly.

“well- okay, so, she’s really into all that bdsm stuff, which is so hot. and she’s like- oh, she’s been to sex parties, man, and she had like, full on subs when she was my age-“

“that’s so weird to think about.” grant said.

“i know.” eddie pointed a fry at him, “so, like, she went full dom mode and called me her sub.”

“i really wouldn’t pin you as a sub.” jeff squinted at him, “like, i know you’re a pathetic virgin- well, not anymore. but like… a sub?”

eddie shrugged, “i mean, yeah.”

“but you’re so big and scary.” gareth added.

“why thank you, garebear.” eddie hummed with a proud smile, “but no, like… she said the same thing. she actually said because i could take control, it was hotter that i didn’t. and like- bro, i’m not getting in the way of her doing what she wants with me. i’m just- i’m happy enough to be included, you know?”

that made them all laugh and nod their heads, “yeah, okay, makes sense.” grant said, “still, it’s bizarre. but also…” he tipped his head to the side.

“yeah,” jeff shrugged, “we did see how she talked to you last night.”

“and she’s your stepmother.” gareth added, “it’s kind of a hot dynamic, if you ask me. like… it makes sense.”

“thank you.” eddie chirped.

“dude, i can’t believe you managed to bag your stepmother.”

“she’s keeping me too.” eddie said with a proud smile, “said so herself. i’m going back tonight.”

gareth struck his hands over his heart and dramatically flopped back into his seat, “you’re leaving me, pumpkin?”

“i’m sorry, it was good whilst it lasted, garebear, but i’ve moved onto hotter things.” eddie played along, as he always did.

“understandable.” gareth nodded, “she’s a peice of art-“

“hey!” eddie glared at him, “careful where you tread, whore. she’s mine.”

“and your dads.” grant snickered.

eddie turned his glare to grant, and it shut him up very fast, “i know, it’s very unfortunate, but! she hates sex with him, takes viagra for it… she likes sex with me. she was the one that asked me to come over again tonight!”

“look at you go.” jeff punched his arm encouragingly and eddie beamed, “told you to stop doubting yourself man, this towns just fucked up and prejudiced.”

eddie smiled down at his lap, “yeah, yeah.”

“okay, so, details?” gareth asked.

eddie nodded and took another sip of his shake, “well, so… yeah, she layed me down and blew me- which was entirely too fast. i’m not even gonna deny it. i just- mouth on dick equals wow.”

“yeah, we’ve all been there, man.” jeff slapped him on the back, “don’t worry.”

“jeff didn’t last three seconds once i put my mouth on him,” grant said with a cheeky grin, “barely put him inside-“

“shut your goddamned mouth.” jeff grabbed him.

“well, i would shut up,” grant shrugged, “if you could get your dick far enough down without blowing your load first.”

“that was one time!” jeff wailed and it made them all laugh.

“okay, well, she gave me a blowjob and then we were kissing, and she was like,” eddie cleared his throat and put on a really terrible you impression, “oh eddie, you have a really good mouth for a virgin, and i was like, thanks, and she was like, do you want to pout that mouth to better use? and like, who was i to say no to that!”

“you are her out?” gareth asked.

“twice.” eddie grinned, “twice in one go. she said i’m really good at it too, and i’m not allowed to eat anyone else out because she wants it all to herself.”

jeff scruffed up his hair.

“this sounds like you’re describing a dream.” grant said, deadpan.

“i know!” eddie exclaimed, “i woke up this morning thinking it was.”

“okay, so, you ate her out, twice…” gareth pointed at him and shoved some fries into his mouth at the same time, “what next-“

“well,” eddie grinned a little evilly, “i didn’t just eat her out.” he giggled, “she sat on my face.”

gareths jaw dropped and the other two in the back seat started a little cheer for him.

“you- she sat on your face?” gareth asked, shocked and quite frankly appalled, “you beat me to that? i can’t believe this! how was it? was it everything we thought it would be?”

“it was better.” eddie sighed, thinking back to it (discreetly moving his milkshake to cover his semi), “oh, to be crushed by those sweet, thick thighs again. to have her on my tongue. i wished she’d just sat there until i suffocated, so the last sounds i ever heard were her moans and my name on her lips, the last taste her sweet cunt, and the last sight to be her naked, just rocking on my face and pulling my hair. i could stay there forever, eternally fucking blissed out.”

“you should turn that into a song.” grant commented.

“i might.” eddie hummed.

“sounds like a dream.” gareth sighed, “i have been trying to get steph to sit on my face for ages, i have so far been unsuccessful.”

“sucks for you.” eddie said, poking his tongue out, “i bet i could ask at any time and she’d let me do it again. she likes when i beg.”

“awh man.” jeff sunk back in his seat, “begging is hot.”

“agreed.” gareth nodded.

“it’s like…” jeff looked at g and waved his hands about, “something about them needing it so bad they’re literally on their knees, or on the brink of crying for it.”

“yeah, no, right?” gareth nodded, pointing back at jeff, “like, they need you. it’s pathetic and really hot.”

grant stuck his hand towards eddie and they slapped hands in a sort of shake, “it’s okay man, you’re not alone out there.”

“sub solidarity.” eddie nodded and they laughed.

“okay, so, after that?” gareth asked.

“oh, well i fucking came- like, she was looking down at me and- yeah, i came.”

“oh, dude-“ jeff started.

“you’re not the only one.” gareth shrugged, “i came the first time i ate a girl out.”

“it’s hot.” eddie said simply, “pussys great. anyway, i came and that messed up her plan to fuck me because i went soft again, so she sat away and started touching herself- which… wow.”

“hard in an instant?” gareth asked over a bite of burger.

“hard in an instant.” eddie said, “and then- oh, i was on my knees, begging her and shit, and she pulled my hair really hard and told me i was hers. then she sat back on top of me, and… virgin no more.”

“hey…” jeff shook him by the shoulder, “look at you go!”

“i know.” eddie giggled and picked at his fries.

“how longed you last?” grant asked, “did you beat gareth’s whopping score of five seconds?”

“yours was seven, shut the fuck up.” gareth swatted grant.

“oh, not long at all.” eddie shook his head, “i don’t know exactly, but like… it was so wet, and warm, and tight, and-“

“dude you not use a condom?” gareth asked and eddie shook his head, “awh, man. what the fuck?”

eddie giggled, “she said she’s clean and on the pill and taking the plan b, so… i get to go raw, and danny doesn’t.”

“fuck.” gareth groaned, “she must like you a whole lot, man.”

eddie hummed, “well, anyway- she was looking me in the eye and telling me shit like… i was hers and that she owned me and stuff, and my little virgin heart couldn’t handle it all enough as it, and it doesn’t help that i’m literally in love with her so that was all-“

“you’re in love with her?” they all gasped.

eddie shrugged and shook his head, “yeah, have been for a while, but i’ve been avoiding the thought. but i don’t care any more, i love her so much, dude. i’m gonna make her love me back one day, i don’t care how long it takes.”

gareth slowly nodded his head and widened his eyes, “alright… eddie’s in love with his step mom.”

“noted.” grant nodded.

“doomed narrative.” jeff added, muffled around a bite.

“probably, but i don’t care.” eddie glanced at him, “i’m also okay with her breaking my heart so- anyway, back to the sex.”

“back to the sex.” grant nodded.

“so, lasted not long at all, and… then she said it was okay and that she wanted me to cum one more time, so i was like… yeah, obviously i’m not going to say no that. and i’m pretty sure i was still hard at that point anyway.”

“wait- so, you finished four times?” jeff gasped.

“oh yeah.” eddie nodded, “so like- oh, dude, i was so sensitive. and it was like- she was saying some really… uh… i mean, i like, i love her, so everything she was saying meant more- but- but she was…” eddie cleared his throat and looked down in his lap, “i dunno, she called me beautiful and stuff- told me that she wanted to look after me, and love me.”

the car fell silent.

eddie laughed nervously, refusing to look up at any of them, “as a dude who’s been ran from his whole life, that- that’s just kind of- hmm.”

there was a long silence for a moment, and then eddie saw gareth’s hand reach out to lay over his boot softly. grant hummed and said,

“it makes you fall a little more in love, huh?” he swallowed, “i know the feeling.”

eddie smiled up at him, thankful he wasn’t so alone, “yeah, well-“ he let out a little laugh, “anyway, i just… i didn’t last much longer then that and- oh, dude, she made me hold it back,” his mood switched instantly, bright and excited again, “and like i was crying and begging her to cum, and she just… oh, dudes, she slapped me and it was so hot.”

“she slapped you?” grant asked, “and you liked it?”

“yeah!” eddie exclaimed, “i asked her to do it again, and she was like, oh you like that? pathetic, and i was like, god fucking please, mo-“ he cleared his throat and continued on, “god fucking please do it again.”

“no, no.” gareth shook his head with a low little chuckle, and they were all smirking at him, “you called her something. what did you call her?”

“nothing.” eddie shook his head, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“lies,” gareth hummed, “you tell lies.”

“it’s mo… something mo.” jeff added, “he called her something mo.”

the boys all started to hum, making that sound over and over again, trying to think of what it could be that he called you. eddie sunk down in his chair, hiding his face behind his hair and hands and denied denied denied, begging them all to shut up.

“hang on!” gareth gasped and fucking laughed, “do you call her- you call her mommy, don’t you?”

eddie groaned and sunk lower into his seat.

“holy shit!” jeff laughed, “you call your stepmother, mommy in bed.”

“that’s such a weird sentence.” grant muttered.

eddie groaned again, “just- shut up… she likes it, okay?”

gareth laughed again, “aww, he’s embarrassed.”

eddie kicked him.

“did mommy take your virginity, bunny?” grant teased.

“all of you, die!” eddie mumbled.

“did mommy take good care of you?” jeff asked with a sick pout.

“i hate all of you so much.” eddie grumbled, “i wish all of you the worst in your afterlives after i’ve murdered you each with my bare hands.”

they all laughed.

“man, we’re just teasing, calm down.” gareth nudged eddie’s knees, “steph calls me daddy all the time, so- it’s like, weird… but it’s not as weird as you think.”

“yeah, we’ve played around with it before.” jeff said, gesturing to grant, “i mean, it’s not for us but, it’s cool if you’re into it.”

eddie peaked out though his hair, “you’re just saying that.”

“no, for real.” gareth hummed, “it’s okay. don’t be embarrassed. sex is weird, everybody likes something mildly fucked up- were freaks, it’s expected of us.”

eddie sighed and sat back up, sipping his shake again, “i dunno, she just- i… you know that chick i almost hooked up with ages ago?”

they all hummed and nodded.

“she ran off because i accidentally called her that- mommy.” eddie shrugged, “i didn’t mean too, but she was calling me a good boy so like-“

“ah, yeah…” gareth winced, “i mean, you weren’t wrong for it.”

“but… but i didn’t- y/n just kinda, she called herself mommy a few times like, in normal conversation a while ago and- oh dudes, after grad i got hammered and she took me home and helped me to bed and undress and like, i called her mommy and tried to get her into bed- it was terrible!”

they laughed and gareth swatted his knee, “you’re an idiot.”

“i know.” eddie smiled.

“so, she slapped you?” jeff asked, all of them now had eager eyes, waiting for his story to continue.

“and choked me and-“ he shrugged, “it was so hot, and then she finally let me cum and i- have you ever heard of subspace?”

grant and gareth shook their heads, but jeff had.

“it’s like, you kinda disappear?”

“yeah.” eddie sighed, “it was like- the best feeling in the world. i was just floating, and nothing hurt or anything. i felt like, so good. and then when i came down- and i was out for hours apparently, she explained what had happened to me.”

“what is it?” gareth asked.

“it’s like- she said some subs go into it when their body gets overwhelmed and they trust their partner enough to let go. she’s had lots of subs before that went there, and she said i looked like i was about to disappear which is why she kept telling me i was safe with her.”

“oh, so it’s like… you just kind of relax?”

“i think so?” eddie hummed, “i don’t really know, but i know it felt good. and- and she looked after me. cleaned me up, and braided my hair and stayed up for hours to make sure i’d be okay when i came out of it- because you can’t speak or anything i think, when you go there. at least i couldn’t. she said you can’t give consent there either. and like- i dunno, she just held me and it was nice.”

“huh.” grant hummed, “sounds really nice.”

“yeah, it is- but like, there’s a lot more to it than you think.”

“it kinda sounds like a nice way to lose your virginity.” gareth said.

“yeah, it was.” eddie laughed softly, “it was really nice- i mean, kinky and violent but like, nice.”

“huh…” gareth nodded, “is that all?”

eddie nodded and then hummed and shook his head, “well, like- i don’t know. she- this morning was really nice. she made me breakfast and wanted to bring it to me in bed, but i woke up. and- i- she was just- it felt very… domestic.” he hummed and tried to gather his thoughts, “we took a shower before i dropped her to work, and she washed my hair and then like, cleaned my face and shit too- she just didn’t let me do it myself- even dried my hair and stuff after.”

“well-“ jeff leant forward, “the subspace can last ages after, right? maybe she thought you were still in it?”

“or maybe it’s like… a kink thing.” gareth added, “like… feeding into the mommy kink. maybe it’s age play?”

eddie considered both of those options, and they both seemed legit.

“or… and, here me out here, boys,” grant cleared his throat, “or, maybe… she like… loves you back?”

“nope.” eddie shook his head, a stern hand swinging out, “no. no way- dude, don’t even put that thought in my head! i’m gonna- you can’t just- mhm! no. nope, no, no way, okay? she doesn’t- i’m- i’m her goddamned step son. plus! she said all of her subs are just sexual, and she continuously referred to me as one! she’s not in love with me, okay? she’s just- she can’t be. she. cant. be.”

silence lulled over the car and eddie looked at them all sternly. grant circled his cup and the ice clinked around before he took a loud sip. and that was that. they all nodded and eddie was glad.

you didn’t love him.

you couldn’t love him.

that just wouldn’t happen.

would it?

“anyway…” gareth slumped back in his chair, “i think i need to dump steph-“

“finally!” jeff groaned and all the boys started making noises of agreement.

**

part 19

i love the corroded coffin boys all being silly little teenagers (even though they’re all 19-21) so much!!