#putting this in the tags as a form of self protection but make no mistake this is a gay thing to do especially in gold rush

[milfygerard]

but fr outside of my contracted madness i absolutely refuse to give joe alwyn gold rush like how is that song at all related to their relationship the lyrics clearly spell out a relationship that either never existed or only existed in implication and fantasies and maybe-maybe nots and its so bitter and yet desperately soft in the bridge where it almost projects a sense of envy, of wanting to be them as much as you want them. It continues an interesting oft ignored lyrical trend of taylor wanting just as much to be her lover as to have them, envying their easy charisma (you were flush with the currency of cool/i was always turning out my pockets) or quiet dignity (your integrity makes me seem small) dating back to her earliest songs (the kind of flawless i wish i could be). Theres a projected self hatred and yearning to be better that twists itself into both romantic and sexual lust for her partners thats so fascinating and speaks to how all of her songs regardless of who theyre about are also an act of self reflection on who she is and who she wishes to be.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 10

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. Scott is frustrated that no one listens to him. Present. Once again, no one listens to Scott.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Before

When Logan was called into Charles's office, he knew it wasn't going to be good.

"Would you care to explain to me why one of my students saw you and Cyclops fighting last night?"

Logan didn't really want to deal with this. He had enough self hatred for whatever he did to make you cry, he didn't need Charles disappointed in him too.

"Are you gonna lecture Scott about it too?"

"I will be talking to him, as well as Remy and Miss Palmer. Fights are something I have to take seriously. What kind of example are you setting for the children?"

As much as Logan wanted to blame it all on Scott, make the little prick pay, he thought back to you. You liked Scott, you'd be upset if Scott got in trouble for you... It was best to just be honest.

"Listen Chuck, it was a mistake, but it wasn't Scotts fault, okay? I saw him messing with her sleeve, showing skin she don't like to show. You know how she is about that stuff." Charles nodded and raised a brow, clearly confused by Scotts actions but not jumping to conclusions. "I saw what he did, and you can't blame me for getting pissed, right? We went out back and fought, Remy broke it up. He only touched her like that because she was hiding... claw marks on back..."

Again, Charles was listening rationally. "And what were they from, son?"

Logan rolls his eyes, groaning. "you know what they were from, but it ain't like that. She came to me when I was having a nightmare and I must've scratched her in my sleep. I didn't even know I cut her until yesterday. Scott and I were both just trying to protect her, okay?"

For a long moment, Charles's eyes simple stayed locked with logan, watching him, searching him. Charles doesn't read minds unless he really needs to, seeing it was a violation of privacy he didn't use lightly.

"I know in the past I've told you i wouldn't tell you what to do, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to put my foot down about you and our young teacher."

He felt like a weight had been dropped on his stomach. "What?"

"I know a romance of sorts has formed, and I do not know how far it's gone nor do I care to. It needs to end. She is a child, Logan. I know she's opened up to you but i doubt she's told you the full story."

You hadn't, he knew, and Logan growled in frustration. "So tell me!"

"That is not my story to tell."

"But you can tell me not to see her? You don't think she can make her own choices?"

"She can't even choose what to make for dinner without crying. She's not at a place where she's ready to date."

But he'd take care of that. Logan would take care of dinner, he'd drive you anywhere and everywhere, he'd make sure you were happy and healthy and taken care of. You didn't need menial choices! You didn't need independence! You needed protection, a caretaker!

"So you just think I'm so fucking awful I'm gonna hurt that hurt, that what you think?"

"That is not what I'm saying."

Logan paused, staring down Charles and heavy breathing as he tried to control his anger. His hands fist the side of Charles's desk, knuckles turning white. He couldn't leave you alone. As soon as he saw you that day with Remy, he was cooked. By the time he got back to the mansion with you giggling at his side, Logan knew there was no future for him without you.

"Charles." Logan grinds out, jaw clenched. "I'm not going to hurt her. I love her."

At that, Charles softened a tad. "I know, son. But this is for the best. There are plenty of women here, women in this world that you could choose from. Why do you have to pick those you can't have?"

He was referencing Jean, of course.

"It's... not like that..."

You were different. You were soft and gentle and happy. You were kind and loving and you wanted him, him and only him. There was no Scott getting in the way. There were no powers, no mutations. Just a sweet girl who needed him to protect you. You were different from Jean.

"Logan, I'm sorry. But this is how it must be. I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt her, but she is fragile. For the record, I would say this if it was Scott, Remy, or Kurt. This is about her, not you."

Logan didn't believe that for a second, storming out the door and right past Scott who was waiting for his turn to speak to Charles.

After

God, this felt good.

The Monday after the schools prom.

2 days after Logan finally made love to you the way he wanted to, the way you deserved.

This morning, Logan walked you to your first class, your arm looped around his. You wore a tight dress for the first time in months to show off the pregnant stomach that swelled with his baby. His baby was growing inside you. The hallways hushed saved for the murmurs of students and teachers as he showed you off, both of you smiling. The secret was out. You were making your public debute.

Logan spotted Scott standing next to Jean, their conversation halted as he lead you to your classroom.

"Have a good day, dollface. I'll see you at lunch."

You beamed up at him in his arms. "You too Lo. I love you."

Then, making direct eye contact with Jean and then Scott, Logan took your chin in his hands and gave you a deep, open mouthed kiss. He heard a whistle from a student, but he didn't care as he slid his tongue inside you.

Scott stormed off, leaving jean behind. No doubt he was on his way to tattle to Charles now that he was back from his several month trip.

*

"I'm fine, Mr. Xavier. Really. Logan is good to me." You sat in front of your boss at his office. Scott had brought the new development to Charles immediately of course, and now you were being questioned. Logan had told you that Charles had instructed him to stay away from you, and now it was your job to convince him that everything was okay. For the sake of raising your baby in a two parent, loving and stable household, you'd omit how this happened, exactly. you'd push away your fears and focus on the man Logan had shown you he could be, not the version you worried was still lurking inside.

"Miss Palmer, Scott seems extremely worried. He is concerned that Logan has forced you into something or has harmed you in some way."

You resist the urge to vehemently defend Logan the way you had to Scott, but remember that that only served to make him more suspicious. Instead, you settle for indignation. "Mr. Xavier," You say in your best offended tone. "Logan loves me. he would never hurt me. he's not like Mark and frankly, I don't appreciate Mr. Summers throwing accusations around wildly. I thought after the incident at the dance where he was proven wrong, he would leave us alone, but he seems obsessive."

A small smile on Charles's face. "And you're aware of their history?"

"Yes, I am very aware. Mr. Summers won back Ms. Grey, so I don't understand why he can't just let Logan be happy. He's not a bad person, you know this. He's a good man, and he watches out for me."

A short pause. "Yes, I am aware Logan is a better man than Scott seems to think. If you would allow me to see into your mind, I can clear-"

"No." You say a little too quickly. Charles didn't force his way into peoples minds. You'd given him permission when you first met him so that he could see what happened to you, see what you did and why you felt no remorse for it. You would not allow that again, knowing what he'd see. He'd see Logan raping you, but he'd never understand why you defended him. He couldn't understand what you saw in Logan, the hope to put it all behind you and start new. "Forgive me, but I'm a private person. There are things I keep to myself."

He nods. "I understand. It seems, however, that you are quite distressed. I can sense it radiating off you. You have to understand my concern."

"Maybe my distress has to do with being raised in a cult, becoming a child bride and being beat for 7 years because i couldn't have a child which I was told was my only purpose in this world?"

Your words hung in the air, tension laced the nervous shuffling in your seat. You place a hand over your stomach. "I apologize, Mr. Xavier. Hormones. I-" You sigh, standing up. "We have an appointment, I have to go." You don't tell him it's your first appointment. You don't tell him you haven't seen a doctor because for the first 3 months you were convinced you would have an abortion. You didn't tell him Logan has to practically drag you here after everything you'd experienced from doctors before.

Charles watches you leave. "Don't be afraid to talk to me, child. We were here to help you. We won't fail you the way you have been failed before."

You almost laugh at that. "Please stop insinuating my boyfriend abuses me. That's how you can help." You open the door to see Logan right where you left him, waiting for you with worry in his eyes.

"Everything okay, Dolly?" He hugs you, eyes connecting over your shoulder to Charles.

"Yeah, everything's fine Lo. Let's go to the appointment."

*

"You can't fucking be serious!" Scott shouts as Remy leaves Charles's office. Scott insisted Charles speak to Remy, that surely her best friend would know something. But when Remy opened the door, and Charles said he's found nothing to suggest you are being harmed, Scott was infuriated.

Charles rolled over to where Scott and Remy stood. "She is insistent she is fine, and everyone we've spoke to says Logan never even raises his voice around her."

"But- months ago, something happened! She wasn't eating, the nightmares-" He gestures to Remy. "You said her nightmares got worse!"

Remy shrugs. "Lovers spat, Cher. She said they worked it out after she found out she was pregnant. It makes sense she's under stress right now, pregnancy outside of marriage is a shameful thing where she grew up."

Scott groans in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So you don't think it's suspicious she's pregnant? You don't think it's weird she's having sex this soon after leaving all that?"

"Cyclops." Charles warns, but Scott is just looking at remy now. How can he not see it?

Remy glares at Scott. "If you are suggesting Logan raped her you better come prepared to back that up other than this pissing contest between the two of you."

"It's not-"

"Accusing someone of rape is a big fucking deal you can't be throwing around. Last time you accused Logan of clawing her, you looked stupid so I would hope you have something more this time. Well, Scott, what do you have? What grand evidence is there that you can't just let them be happy?" When Scott didn't speak, Remy laughed. "Just as I thought, nothing. Go home to your wife, Scott."

Remy left the room, leaving Charles and Scott alone.

"You can't be serious, Charles."

The older man sighed, looking to his protégé. "Son, you know i respect your opinions and concerns. If you have any evidence-"

Scott heard enough, and stormed out. He wasn't crazy. he wasn't jealous. He didn't hate Logan simply because he fucked his wife. Okay well maybe that was the start. But this? This was wrong. You need help, even if you can't see it.

*

"Look so good like this, baby doll..." Logan mumbled into your neck. You and him laid on the couch watching Gladiator, but the movie was long forgotten. Who was Russel Crowe compared to Logan Howlett? He was hard against you, his cock pressed up against your ass underneath the blanket you insisted on because you were wearing a skirt, his arm wrapped around your middle, caressing your stomach. he was obsessed with your stomach, wanted to touch you there every chance he could.

"Logan, the movie," You giggle but make no attempt to stop as he kissed your neck. You loved the attention. You loved his gentle touches. You were nervous about having a baby, but Logan assured you every step of the way.

The appointment last week had gone well. You told the doctor you hadn't known you were pregnant, that it was a surprise, so he made sure to do a thorough check since you were 4 months along. You hadn't seen a doctor in all that time, but you had been eating well and Logan had brought you prenatal vitamins. Doctor said everything looked normal and healthy, thank god. You hadn't wanted this, not this way anyway, but you'd never forgive yourself if you somehow messed up your child's life with your indecision.

Logan's hands roamed your body under the blanket, humming against your skin. "My pretty wife... my perfect girl..." Logan had said he'd propose, that you and him were gonna get married... you were going to be a wife again. Logan's wife. he'd be different. This time would be different. You'd given logan a baby, so he had no reason to hurt you like Mark had.

"My husband..." You sigh, grinning ear to ear.

"You two are disgusting." Remy spoke, and you suddenly remembered he was in the chair, supposed to be watching the movie with you and Logan. You quickly grab Logan's hand away from where it was about to slide up your skirt, and sit up with a deep blush. Logan had promised to spend more time with Remy, you wanted them to be good friends. They were already casual friends long before you knew either one, but you wanted them to be closer. Remy was your family, the person other than Logan you spent the most time with. You had other friends now, Rogue and Ororo, and you and Emma had even begun to hang out, but Remy was your number one. He was the only person other than Logan and Charles you'd told about your past in full, although you suspected Scott knew from Charles.

Logan sat up with you, but didn't let you go, instead sitting you between his legs on his lap. His hands stayed far more decent now.

"Sorry..." You mumble, but Remy is smiling.

"Don't worry pistache, I'm just happy to see you finally together."

You tried to focus more on the movie, and not Logan's throbbing erection still nuzzled against you and how you were going to take care of it later. Everything was going fairly well. Logan slept in your room most nights, but sometimes you'd wake up to find him gone. Those were nights he had nightmares, so he got up and went back to sleep in his own room. If he was in a bad headspace he'd sleep away from you too, to not risk hurting you again.

Your nightmares, however, would not stop. Nearly every night you woke up in Logan's arms as he tried to gently wake you, the horrors of what you dreamed of still sharp and brutal in your mind. You couldn't understand why they hadn't stopped, why Logan's faded to less and less while yours increased. You were supposed to be in love. your happy ending with a husband and a baby... so where was the happy?

"Well, well, well, look who finally escaped the throuple from hell." From the doorway of the common room, and glib voice pulled everyone's attention to were Wade stood. You'd never met him, but you'd seen a few pictures here and there. He was someone Logan actually liked, and in his very minimalist decor of his room, there was a small framed picture of him and Wade Wilson together. Next to it now sat a picture from your first ultrasound.

"Shit, Wade" You can here the smile in logan's voice. "I didn't know you were coming."

Still grinning, Wade shrugged. "Yeah, well, I might have caused a few issues with the Time Variant Authority. Gross misuse of a time traveling device to save my girlfriend and all that. Gonna lay low for a bit, figured I'd come see you and my favorite piece of Cajun spiced ass."

Remy got up from his chair to greet Wade in a big hug. "Nice to see you too, asshole."

Logan spoke again. "I'd get up to say hi, but I'm pretty sure my dick would be saying hi too."

"Logan!" You admonish, face burning in embarrassment as your lover whispered a half-hearted apology in your ear.

"Oh-ho-ho, trust me peanut I would not be complaining." Wade looked to you. "And just who is this pretty piece of pumpkin pie?"

"Watch it, mouth." Logan growled behind you. "She's mine." Him calling you his made you warm up even more, as if the display every single morning as he walked you to class didn't say that enough.

"I see that!" Wade is nearly chuckling, a twinkle in his eye. Logan went to Wade's right after Jean chose Scott over him, so Wade was very aware of everything he'd been through. No doubt he was happy to see his friend in a better position. "No more crawling back to Jean and Scott like a lost wolvie?"

"I never fucked Scott you goddamn twink"

"Sure you didn't." Wade lifted himself off where he leaned against the wall, walking towards where you sat. You were raised to be polite, so much to Logan's grumbling you stood up. Logan covered his pants with the blanket. "Wade Wilson." He extended his hand. "And you are?"

"Judith Palmer." You gave him your fake name.

"My fiancé." Logan asserts from the couch.

With the blanket off, your pregnant stomach was on full display, and Wade's eyes nearly bugged out of his head looking at you.

"Good golly miss molly, she sure as hell is! Fucking hell, I've been in need of a good tea spill sesh, this is just the right time." A deep breath and a dreamy sigh, Wade looked between you, Logan, and Remy as he crossed his arms, grinning. "So tell me, how did all this happen?"

Sorry it took so long to update!!!! I've been, frankly, very sick. If you havnt seen my posts, I spent one weekend literally friday to monday laid up, so lethargic i couldn't lift my arms sometimes. I have an amazing roommate whose in nursing school who i love dearly who took care of me.

two weeks later im still sick. Not lethargic and feverish but bronchitis now :( suffering.

And i still have school to catch up on.

but i finally got a better laptop thanks to black friday sales which has made doing stuff fast without lagging and crashing unexpectedly.

so, WELCOME WADE WILSON!!!!!!

And scott, poor scott. I've been telling my friend whose not a fanfiction reader about this series and shes been helping me with things, she says the fact that scott is the only one who sees something is wrong and no one is listening to him is "biblically accurate scott summers" LMFAOOOO

We're probs not gonna meet all the xmen, even the ones i actually know. Idk if we'll even see kurt again. but they are around! scott, remy, and wade will be the biggest piece.

thanks so much for all the love!!!

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia @new-genesis1000 @teaganthemorningstarr @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight

[shiobookmark]

I come back from holiday to a whole bunch of- Okay so my thoughts on the 'fake Palestine charity' thing is this Yes, it's hard to see hundreds of families begging for their lives, begging for a dollar, a cent, anything at all, and not knowing where to put your money or how best to help. And then when you do help someone you get dozens more messages from other families hoping you'll do the same for them. I blocked a few but then thought about how devastating that would be to the person on the other end and thought perhaps simply silence would be kinder. Because I don't have the money, or the fortitude, to respond. And a response might give false hope. Even an apology is asking for grace from someone suffering the worst things imaginable. The impulse to protect yourself is natural, but turning it into trying to 'prove' these charities fake or spending all your energy trying to find the 'good ones' is not a good impulse. It's not a kind impulse. It's a selfish, self-protective one.

The facts are this: you can never be 100% sure. And that's not on you. Other people are doing this work for you. There are vetted lists. The people doing the checking might make mistakes, might let some bad actors slip through, but it's better than you alone. They deserve our support, not suspicion. It takes a lot of mental energy to do what they're doing. Don't give what you're not prepared to lose. Give what you're comfortable with, and don't think on it any more. But it's a gift, not a purchase. Some might say a poor gift, but it's often all that we personally have the power to do. You give money to someone, and think no more on it. Don't start nitpicking their behaviour to see if they've 'earned' it. Don't even follow them. If you give money, you give it unconditionally. The only 'condition' is feeling a little better about yourself, which is also a normal emotion to feel. 'I don't do anything, but giving this person a little bit of money makes me feel less helpless' is an okay feeling!

If I give someone ten bucks and they turn out to be a fraud, that's on them. Either way I'm not seeing ten bucks again and maybe the next time it'll be someone who needs it. It's frustrating, but the alternative is treating people already suffering with contempt and cruelty and honestly I'd rather be a fool. Or if you don't feel comfortable with individual charities, give to Unicef! Give to Doctors without Borders. Give to the big guys who have the resources to go where we can't. They're legit, they've been operating for years and your money will make change. That's how you avoid risk in this. As for protecting yourself from the avalanche of pain on this site, sometimes blocking or blacklisting certain tags is the only option. We shouldn't be blind to what's happening, but endlessly scrolling through the kind of awfulness coming out of Palestine is a form of self harm. Stay informed, but stay healthy. You can't help anyone if you're drowning. Choose a few actions you can do. Donate to a few families if you can, throw one off donations to Unicef or Doctors w/o Borders. Go on a march. Buy Palestinian things from Palestinian organisations. For a while I crocheted watermelon brooches and gave them to friends. That was nothing, but it made me feel a little bit better. Tiny actions add up.

I felt unimaginably guilty going on holiday only a few countries away from all this. I even met a few young Israelis on holiday and had to bite my tongue and curb my impulse toward resentment and hatred because who knows how they feel about it all. We just have to keep moving.

[biganimal92]

Homura decided to oppose god-madoka because madoka said in the labyrinth, with no memory of her own sacrifice, that she would hate to be away from her friends and family more than anything else in the world, and homura realized there was no happy ending for madoka like this after all and all of her efforts to protect up until then had been pointless, despite what she had tried to believe for all those months since madoka rewrote the universe, and broke down. of course after all this and discovering she became a witch and could never even be taken by the law of cycles because of kyubey, her grief made her as powerful a being as even madoka's wish did her. I don't think what she did was too out of character, she just chose to make it so madoka could live a happy life, even if it was entirely at homura's own expense and madoka would probably loathe her for it. As usual, really. Opposing a god's will as an equal makes you a devil, at least in homura's eyes. Sorry, I don't know you I just saw your liveblogging in the main tags.

I didn't realize just mentioning the characters names would put that post in the main tags so just deleted it, sorry I didn't know tumblr's tagging system worked like that now I thought you had to explicitly separately tag something for it to show up. I didn't mean to bother anyone with my complaints so sorry about that, I'll be more mindful in the future in general about that

anyway since you reached out to me, i understand what youre saying but i think im interpreting things differently. I saw madoka in the labyrinth saying that she'd never be happy being separated from her friends as part of the illusion that homura created for herself as apart of the fantasy she wanted to live and the self-inflicted grief she was suffering through and she began tricking herself into thinking this was what madoka wanted since, even though it was the real madoka, she had no memory of who she really was because she was trapped inside homura's world, but then homura realized that madoka actually does have the strength to overcome difficult odds because she tells her immediately that even though she's sorry that it came to that end, she knows madoka is strong enough to be able to do the impossible even if it might seem like she isn't

like the movie is about cyclical grief and self-hate because of mistakes you've made in the past and being unable to come to terms with losing the person you love in your life, and it's an extension of the themes of not being able to accept fate that are present in the original series where homura represents hopelessness and madoka represents. well, hope, but I think the movie was fine until she became satan

the reason I think this is weak is because I interpreted homura's world falling apart as her accepting the truth and the reality of the situation she's in, especially since that's literally what kyubey told her, and her witch form represented immense guilt over her actions for what madoka did. I already thought it was a stretch that after everything from the first series she'd rather be a witch than allow kyubey to take advantage of madoka, but it's a lot more believable at this point given her fragile state of mind and her fears of kyubey undermining everything madoka sacrificed herself for.

I also prefer this as the climax to the movie because I feel that homura becoming the manifestation of evil makes no sense for her personality period, but given that witches are the most concentrated form of a person's suffering, her witch form represented something entirely separate than her demon form which I consider to be more in line with her development as a person and is a much better representation of the way she chooses to tackle and express her grief.

but then madoka is coming to take homura away and then she turns into Satan and explicitly undermines everything madoka sacrificed herself for, alongside undermining homura's realization at the end of the series and realization that she already had in the movie like. I would argue twice, once in the field with madoka and once in that chamber with kyubey

she's having this realization throughout the entire movie that an ideal world where she's with madoka and all their friends exists solely in her imagination and that even if she feels guilty for madoka's fate and taking her away from her friends and family, she accepts it was madoka's decision and this was handled just fine during the segment where she became a witch, and when she became Satan I have to disagree but she felt like a radically different person due to her personality changing and her attempting to repeat the entire events of the movie again. I think that the ultimate issue I have with this very well might be the pacing of the movie because the movie very much did reach its reasonable climax and conclusion but then it continued to repeat what the entire movie was about for another 15 minutes before finally ending, so if it had gone on longer and happened a bit sooner in the movie and been apart of the third act proper instead of what's basically the epilogue it'd be less disappointing for me

although if I'm still misinterpreting the movie feel free to let me know, I like talking about and analyzing media so even if I feel bad now and I have to become a witch to show how guilty I am for my post showing up in the tags because of this crappy websites tagging system, I do appreciate you coming to me because this was a fun way to start my morning and I'm glad you took the time to send me an ask about your interpretation of the events in the film

[suns-sword]

Sure I’ll try. The conditions you listed in the tags are fair enough (and I do like both ships anyway).

I will say that a lot of what I have to say will be from the light novels as just about every character other than yumiella and Alicia lost a lot of characterization in the manga and anime. I’ll try to keep the points and moments in chronological order for convenience .

The first moment when I felt like the ship had legs was in the Patrick intermission chapter, when we saw him grinding his level and reminiscing about his thoughts on yumiella. He takes the time and really puts in the effort to understand her. Catching himself when he thinks about her in anyway other than the reality that he has experienced. Neither idealized or villainized.  To me that is one of the first and simplistic foundations of love. It’s also the scene I think about when people call him boring. Yeah he doesn’t have any major character quirks, but he takes the time to try and understand the world and people around him. He isn’t calm because he is just chill like that, he stays calm because he wants to be dependable.

This dependable nature also comes to show that he puts in effort not just to improve himself but to actively make up for yumiella which we first see when he convinces the edwin that she is just a regular (if very strange) girl. This more or less becomes his default job to help her, and it very noticeably makes her feel less lonely to not be hated or feared for reasons she can’t really understand. Also worth noting that it’s also the only reason yumiella survives Alicia’s back stabbing event (not talking about the protection amulet since that’s just anything a concerned significant other would ask of her in that verse). His efforts were the only reason she didn’t die alone and betrayed.

Then after the demon lord fight he comforts her by telling her that he has complete faith him her to make the best choices she can when it matters. That even if she made a mistake or just plainly made the wrong choice, he will still be there, still loving her. It from bother their perspectives means so much. Yumiella because she thought she would never even gain so much as a friend, and Patrick because we know it’s not blind love (as mentioned before).

That’s the main moments from the first book, and I’ll admit it’s very sparse. The first book was defiantly more about setting up yumiella’s character than anything else in the world.

I’m the second novel we are not much better in terms of quantity, but we see even more clearly that their love isn’t just a passing phase or puppy love, that both sides are working hard to make each other happy. Both of them are facing difficulties fitting together in a more permanent setting. Patric because of self doubt and anxiety on whether he is just projecting his own feelings on her, and yumiella because of how weak to embossment she is making it near impossible to express her feelings towards him. Neither of them gives up even when they both can tell it’s not going perfectly. It might be a bit of projection on my end but the idea of someone putting in that kinda effort, not just when it’s fun or convenient is what you want most after you feel unlovable or absolutely alone for years of your life. This effort even gets to manifest in the climax in the form of Patrick covering her biggest weakness so this time everyone gets to live through the end of the book. He is strong where she is weak and weak where she is strong, when together their strength is greater than its sum.

It’s late here so I’ll leave it there. Sorry for any typing inconstancy, on Mobil and it’s hard to proof read.

i genuinely wonder if someone could EVER successfully sell me on patrieumi

[dragongutsixofficial]

On the topic of Rhea, Byleth, Crimson Flower and abuse

I see a lot of people saying Crimson Flower is a bad route for Byleth, and I'm always a little confused about it, so I thought I'd share my thoughts on the matter. This post isn't at all to invalidate their opinions or how they view the game- this is just offering my perspective on things. Please forgive any possible mistakes, as English isn't my first language. Also, I will be criticizing Rhea's treatment of Byleth, so I'll tag this appropriately of course, but I'm still warning any of her fans beforehand in case you just wanna skip. ^^

For a little bit of context, when i first played the game, Rhea creeped me out THE MOMENT she looked at Byleth from the balcony in the cutscene when they arrive at Garreg Mach monastery. So, I was already wary of her-I dunno, I just had a feeling she wasn't as honest as she was pretending to be.

And I mean, this isn't completely wrong. She desperately wants to be able to relax and be truthful, sure, but she also has a great deal of responsibility in putting in place and maintaining a really unfair theocracy based entirely on lies, because she wants to protect her family, the last of her kind. While her behavior is, of course, understandable given the horrible trauma she went through, it still doesn't sit right with me, but that's not really my point here. The thing is, she has problems with not being in control at all times because of her story. Her despair even pushes her to try and bring back her dead mother by crafting her a vessel- something she fails at several times, including Sitri.

And, then, there's Byleth. Byleth, who disappears for twenty long years, along with all her hopes, and when they reappear Rhea immediately sees the possibility for her to achieve her goal is not totally lost. She was desperate and now that she's found them, she wants to keep them.

That's why she places so much trust in Byleth from the start, but also why she grows cold every time they step out of line- like when they refuse to give her Miklan's spear. She allows them to live their life, but only so long as they do not disappoint her in any way or deviate from her ideas- because for the longest time, she struggles to see them as their own person and puts unreasonable expectations on them.

And that, sadly, is when that becomes psychological abuse on her part. This is really obvious to me when Byleth's hair and eyes turn green after fusing with Sothis, and she sings to them and puts their head in their lap while they're asleep- it just makes me want to run far away in the opposite direction every time, and her giving them the prophet outfit after that makes me so sorry for Byleth because what she's essentially doing here (albeit maybe unvoluntarily) is chipping away at their developing self and bodily autonomy by turning them into literally what she physically wants to see-and that isn't them. She wants them to become what she wants of them.

And then, in the Sacred Mausoleum, Byleth chooses Edelgard. All hell breaks loose because Rhea's hopes are shattered- and she also realizes her affection for Byleth is (partly) unrequited which, to me at least, makes sense- I don't really see how they could care as much for her as they do for their students when they spent every day with them for a year, and their actions seem to be made more out of love for their close ones than anything else. Byleth breaks out of the mold and confronts her directly. They make the clear cut decision to deviate from the path she had laid out for them. From that moment on, Rhea considers that all forms of violence against them is allowed (which, fair, they just declared war on her lol) including taking their heart out by force, which is physical abuse obviously (then again, violence is to be expected in a war but you get the idea). She now hates what she's created and sees it as her duty to destroy it.

Now. Byleth choosing to walk down Edelgard's path does not equate cutting themselves from their divine part, and I think that is a very important point. I see a lot of people make that criticism, especially since Byleth loses Sothis' powers at the end of CF. But to me, it's a totally different phenomena that occurs.

In every route, post-timeskip Byleth embraces their divine side. They use the Creator's sword and they go back in time as they wish to protect and further their and their lords' vision for the future of Fodlan. Heck, their main class is literally "Prophet". But something strange and, I think, beautiful happens in Crimson Flower that always made me feel disappointed in the other routes' plots: Byleth has a chance to stand up to their abuser and cut ties with them explicitely and directly. To fight back against them with all they've got.

Now, don't get me wrong. Rhea apologizing for her wrongdoings and bad treatment of Byleth is good, sure, but it just… doesn't seem like enough to me. Sure, that's a nice thought… but it's not like anything can be done about it now: they're stuck with body modifications and a position as an Archbishop reforming the system she helped put in place that they never really asked for in the first place. But what makes it ok is that they embrace those fully and voluntarily, and that's beautiful on its own- however, that resolution leaves me a bit disappointed and honestly feeling like they let Rhea walk all over them.

The thing is, when you get out of an abusive and toxic relationship, you are left changed from the experience. You lose a lot of things, but you also get some things. It's like you're left with a random object your abuser gave to you once. You can either keep it and give it a new story of its own, or discard it if keeping it just doesn't feel right. But in the end, it is your responsibility, your thing, and you're not a bad person for not using it. The metaphor is broken, I know, but I hope you get my idea. You're not a bad person for moving on for that thing- You don't resent the thing, you can thank it and appreciate it for what it brought you while you used it, you don't hate it, hell you might have even learnt from it.

In the other routes, Byleth chooses to keep everything and use it equally. In Crimson Flower, Byleth "regaining their humanity" doesn't in any way, shape or form mean they reject all that Sothis brought to them or their enlightenement. It's just them choosing that they'd rather not use that from now on, or not engage with it to the same degree. They might go back to it later, might help rebuild the church, I don't know-just not in the same way. On new terms that make them more at ease with who they became following that route.

They're still the same loving and caring person who would do anything for their students. They still go to the ends of the Earth to give someone a random thing they lost. They still spend hundreds of coins on their loved ones' favorite teas. But… they do not have to forgive Rhea. They do not have to accept everything that happened to them because of her actions, even if some of it was good. They've made their peace with it and they've let it go of their own volition.

They do not become a lesser version of themselves because they chose to deal with the abuse they went through in a different way than in the other routes.

And I think a lot of people underestimate how powerful CF!Byleth's narrative can be.

[bye-bye-sunbird]

Bloodlust | Yan!Tartaglia x Reader

Hi everyone! So here's the Tartaglia fic I teased about a few days ago. I got a LOT of requests on him, and many of them shared a similar theme, so I hope this satisfies some of them. But one thing led to another and... well, here is where we ended up hahaha.

Please read the tags and the warnings before you continue reading.

Warnings: NOT SFW, dub-con, manipulation, mentions of blood, blood-kink (I... think?), victim-blaming, mentions of past abuse, mentions of murder, this is NOT a healthy relationship, this one got a bit dark, so be aware of it.

Reader is female.

We are drawn to what we lack.

You would often ponder over how Childe seemed to love the idea of you more than he loved you. No matter what he did, how charming his smile was, everything about him screamed danger.

He could make you feel safe, but never at ease.

Could anyone really blame you for having moments of weakness such as this one? If he insisted on being a weapon, then you would use him as such.

You knew it was a mistake to tell him about your last relationship. No weight was lifted from your shoulders, but another type of guilt cemented in your thoughts, like venom poisoning your mind.

A part of you hoped they would end up killing each other, maybe then you could finally start over. You could lead a peaceful, quiet life in Qingce Village, devoting yourself to the care of your beloved grandmother. Your heart clutched at the uncertainty on whether she was still alive or not. After you managed to escape your ex-boyfriend you had cut ties with everyone, for their own safety.

And then... Childe came into your life. Almost as if he sensed your longing for protection, your fear. And he exploited every aspect of it to his advantage.

When you were with him, no one dared to look your way. After what felt like a lifetime of being reduced to nothing, he made you feel almost powerful. After being denied everything, he offered you the chance to have it all. You knew he was dangerous, but nevertheless, you fell for it.

After all, we really are drawn to what we lack.

You knew what you were doing asking him to free you from your past. You knew the implications it would have. No matter the result, you would end up with blood in your hands.

"It won't take me long, I think," he says with a boyish smile that, considering everything that was going to happen, was just plain sinister, "I'll be back in no time."

You don't tell him to be safe. You stay still as he tenderly places a kiss on your lips. He then grabs your jaw, forcing you to look directly at him, "So be a good girl and stay put."

And you do, you wait for what feels like an eternity.

You pace around your house, an uneasy feeling numbing you. Every so often you look up at the clock. You lay on your bed, placing a hand over your chest in an attempt to calm yourself. You stay there, forcing yourself to block every intrusive thought and, hours upon hours later, you fall asleep in sheer exhaustion.

That is until you feel a weight sinking the bed around your frame.

A metallic scent starts to flood your sense of smell. A single drop of... something falls on your cheek, and with that, you open your eyes.

Even in the dead of night, the sight of Childe's face almost completely covered in blood will haunt you forever.

"Angel, I'm home," he whispers as he lowers himself down to kiss your neck.

You remain speechless as he licks and nibbles, savoring every inch from your neck up to your ear lobe and down your clavicles. His gloved hand leaves a trace of blood in your clothes as he unbuttons your dress.

"It is done"

You let a hitched breath escape you when you feel the tip of his tongue hover over one of your breasts. He ministers shallow licks before gently biting your nipple.

"I thought about you the whole time" he confesses, a boyish grin emerging in his face as he leaves your breast to look at you. The way his eyes are clouded by a mix of feral desire and bloodlust sends shivers down your spine. "You were right to be afraid of him, he was strong" he adds, the words spilling over your skin, warm and breathless, as he slowly raises your skirt over your hips, "Just not enough".

You tense like a bowstring in his hands, in a mix of fear and arousal. You hate yourself for this.

"Oh?" you feel the curve of his smile forming on top of your skin, "Do you want to know how I did it?", you shake your head, and mutter a simple "No". He hums mockingly, "Afraid that is going to ruin the mood, huh?".

He presses his body an inch closer enough for you to feel the bulge in his pants rubbing against you. "I waited so long for this", he lowers his hand below your skirt. "I have quite the imagination, y'know?" he grabs your underwear, the cold, wet feel of the blood in his hand making you tremble. "You are so quiet most of the time", he tugs at the fabric, slowly pulling it down. He trails small kisses up your jaw. "I wonder how you'll sound when I fill you up."

He pulls away from your face, bitting his glove out of his hand and tossing it aside, a small stain of blood left on his smile as he easily sinks two of his fingers inside of you. The obscene, wet sound making him chuckle. You drop your head back onto the pillow, a whimpering and trembling mess. Your hands dig into his jacket as you let out a breathless moan.

A few seconds pass before he slowly starts to work his fingers inside you. He sets a pace that is meant for you to be overly conscious about everything that's happening between your legs. It's almost torture, and you can't fight the urge to start moving your hips, seeking a release. Guilt, fear, and pleasure become one as a single tear runs down your cheek.

He laughs hauntingly as he speeds up the pace. You bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet, but a moan manages to escape as you grind desperately against his hand. But just before you come undone, he pulls his fingers out. You open your eyes to witness how he lasciviously licks his fingertips, a lovesick gaze clouding his blue eyes before he pins you against the mattress in a hungry, almost feral kiss. You hear the sound of his belt being sloppily unbuckled, after which one of his hands pushes your knee to the side.

He pulls away from the kiss, looking down to position himself. You feel the tip of his length rubbing your entrance, his hot breath starting to tremble against your skin in excited expectation.

"He wanted to see you again," he says suddenly, but you are too far gone to pay any attention to his words. "Maybe I should have brought him here, to witness how I fuck you."

A loud gasp rings in his ear as you feel your walls stretch. He enters slowly, allowing you to accommodate all of him. Your mind goes blank as he pushes himself up until he's completely sheathed inside of you.

"You are such a good girl, taking it all in" he grunts, gritting his teeth against the urge to thrust now, hard and fast. Because you are so tight, and the way you shiver beneath him puts him on the verge of insanity. Instead, he moves slowly, his breath coming in shallow, shaky sighs.

But once you catch your breath, all previous considerations are thrown out the window. His pace quickens, and soon he is thrusting into you hard enough to make the bedframe hit the wall, leaving shallow scuffs on the cement. You let out wordless cries, completely lost in nothing but the obscene sound of skin against skin, as you come close to your climax.

It doesn't take long before you let go, twitching, jerking, and grinding against him as you come, almost passing out. By the time you regain a sense of self, you look down as Childe is still pounding into you, seeking his own release in a mix of sweat and blood, a crazed expression drawn in his face.

His grip on the sheets strengthens as he begins fucking you with increased, almost animalistic intensity. And in no time, he comes inside of you with a final thrust, a strangled-sounding moan escaping him, filling you with his seed as he refuses to move as if making sure you receive all of him. That's when you notice the cuts all over his clothes that leak small streaks of blood.

He collapses on top of you, and then you feel the weight of everything that just went down upon your conscious. You feel disgusting, you are not better than him. Your lips tremble as you cry quietly.

You feel like mourning. Not over your past lover, but you, who will never be free.

You didn't just change the monster, you became one.

[goddessofroyalty]

Prompt (from AO3): Jayce comes back home and thinks it's the same routine of keeping quiet and watching Viktor be with their son, but Viktor speaks suddenly to come inside and he sees Viktor holding his son (maybe breast feeding or just hugging him) and looking downright furious in full Machine Herald attire. Viktor explains how their son was almost kidnapped or used by either his or Jayce's enemies, with Jayce rushing in to check if they're both okay. Jayce and Viktor reconcile in realizing they still love each other and they don't want their son to be torn between them, and that if they are to raise and protect their son from any threats, they'll be together doing it.

 Tags: omegaverse, past-mpreg

I leave it a bit more open than the prompt had but that’s because there’s a lot of stuff they need to work through. This is just the first step.

---------------

“Jayce Talis get in here.”

Jayce freezes at his name and Viktor’s clearly angry tone. He knows he shouldn’t spy on Viktor when he visits their pup. Knows he has no right to after everything, denying Viktor both his work and child. Every time he does he tells himself it will be the last.

But he can’t help himself. Part of it possible self-torture. Forcing himself to acknowledge what he gave up for Piltover. Maybe to prevent himself for ever making a mistake of that scale again.

He ducks his head as he enters the room. Fully ready to apologize and promise to never do it again. Whatever he needs to do to ensure Viktor doesn’t stop. That Jayce isn’t responsible for his pup losing any connection to the omega who carried him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, glancing up at Viktor.

He isn’t surprised by the glare he is met with. However the fact Viktor is fully armed is surprising. Jayce expecting to see Viktor holding their child and not the Machine Herald.

Their son doesn’t seem bothered being held in fully metal arms. Small hands clinging into the gaps of Viktor’s chest-plate and glancing between his two parents as if in disbelief they are both in the room at the same time. Something that hasn’t happened since probably before he could even form memories.

At least Viktor doesn’t have the Herald’s faceplate on. It resting on his head, a dark sticky fluid visible on the skin beneath it. Forcing Jayce to suddenly notice all the other signs of injury on Viktor. The dents in his armor and dark circles under his eyes.

“What happened?”

“What was always bound to happen with the rate you make enemies these days,” Viktor says. “One of them thought to target our son and found your security sorely lacking.”

Jayce had known there were holes in his security. Had left them be so Viktor would be able to easily slip in to see his child. Never once did he think about who else could take advantage of them.

“Or perhaps you had intended for them to take him?” Viktor continues the golden iris in his now black eyes sharp. “Use our son as bait?”

“I would never.” Jayce can’t believe Viktor would even suggest he might be capable of such a thing. Despite everything he had always put their child first.

“I Know,” Viktor says and a little of the tension in his stance fades.

“Where are they?” Jayce will make sure they are never a threat to his or any other child again.

“Dealt with,” Viktor says and his expression tells Jayce he doesn’t want to ask any more.

“Good.” They don’t need to worry about them trying to take their son again then. Even if Jayce acknowledges it means he will have to fill the holes in his security before any other group think to harm his son to get to him.

He will have to find another opportunity to allow Viktor to see their son. Perhaps at Jayce’s home – tell his staff not to raise the alarm if it is his supposed greatest foe breaking in.

Viktor twists his head to consider him and the better lighting it puts him in lets Jayce to better see the dark liquid on his forehead and the cracks in the Machine Herald mask deep enough to cut the skin underneath.

“How badly are your injured?” Jayce asks, finding a clean rag on his work bench.

“Nothing I won’t recover from,” Viktor says, taking a step back when Jayce goes to approach. Holding their son tighter as he eyes the rag off like it may do either of them harm.

“Viktor you’re bleeding.” Maybe he hadn’t noticed from the adrenaline of what happened. But Jayce could not just let him leave with a possibly open head wound. And not just because Viktor had gotten it defending their son.

“How do you even know it is blood?”

“Leaking oil then.” Jayce doesn’t have time for the games where they pretend Viktor isn’t human anymore. Where they pretend he carved out his metaphorical heart as well as his literal one. “Just let me have a look to make sure it isn’t anything serious.”

Viktor’s eyes are doubtful and Jayce wonders if he will have to beg the mother of his child to let him make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.

He realizes he would beg as well if it is what was needed for Viktor to let him care for him this once.

“If you must,” Viktor says.

“I do.” Jayce has to know that Viktor will be okay.

He keeps his hands visible while approaching. Clear that he means no threat despite having never wanted to hurt Viktor.

Jayce has to reach up to gently dab at the fluid sticking to Viktor’s forehead. The Machine Herald armor making his former mate taller than him.

Viktor winces slightly but doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even meet Jayce’s eyes, just watches their son in his arms.

“I need to get some water,” Jayce says because the fluid, that he is fairly sure is blood, is somewhat dried. “Wait here.”

He keeps an ear out as he goes to the small bathroom connected to the lab, half expecting to hear Viktor slip out while he is not in the room.

The room seems silent while he wets the rag and he finds Viktor still sitting in the lab-chair when he returns. Their son now sitting in his lap and the Machine Herald mask sitting on the work bench next to Viktor. His former mate and partner’s full face exposed to Jayce for the first time in years.

“You didn’t leave.”

“You would have no doubt hunted me down if I had,” Viktor says, his gaze still not leaving his son.

“I never forced you to stay when you didn’t want to,” Jayce says, going over to gentle start cleaning Viktor’s forehead again, examining the damage as he does.

The source of the blood appears to be a cut just above Viktor’s hairline. But the blood all appears dry so hopefully it should be fine with just time to heal.

Jayce would feel more comfortable with that assessment if Viktor would stay the night just in case.

He knows he has little hope of talking Viktor around to that. He has already pushed his luck to have Viktor stay as long as he has.

“No. You just sent me away when you no longer had use of me,” Viktor says and as unfair of an assessment of the events that left them separated that it is it still hurts worse than any physical blow Jayce has been dealt in his life.

“I didn’t want to. My hand was forced.” By the Council. By Viktor. By Zaun rapidly descending into a violent chaos that felt like it would spill over the river at any moment.

But it was Jayce who made the final call.

“If I could go back and change it I would.” Jayce would have never taken Viktor’s work or allowed him to go into exile. Would never have forced him to give up their child.

“We cannot go back,” Viktor says, finally looking at Jayce. Not that Jayce can read the new black and gold eyes like he could Viktor’s old honey ones.  

“But maybe we can do better going forward?” Maybe Viktor won’t have to sneak in to see his pup. And maybe they can work together to ensure nobody threatens their pup again.

“Don’t give me false promises you have no intention to keep,” Viktor says, looking suddenly as tired as he had been those weeks leading up to the end.

“It’s not false. I want to be by your side again.” However Viktor would have him.

“And what about the others? I doubt Piltover will have me back with open arms.”

“We can work it out,” Jayce says, reaching down to run a hand down their son’s cheek when the boy reaches up to them both. The first time he’s been able to have them both with him at the same time in too long. “He misses you when you’re not around. We both do.”

“We will never be able to go back to how we were.”

“I know.” Jayce will never be able to undo his betrayal.

“We both have hurt each other too much. And have responsibilities to our people that we cannot turn back on.”

“Right.” As much as Jayce hates it the people of Piltover look to him for protection. And while the Machine Herald is not the protector of Zaun he is turned to by those with no other options.

“But I am tired of sneaking around to see my pup Jayce. And he is safer if we work together and not separately.”

“Where does that leave us?” Jayce asks, watching Viktor’s expression for any sign of hope for them.

“I don’t know,” Viktor says, looking down to their son. “We will have to find out.”

[mari-lair]

about the terukane role swap au, do you have more ideas bout it? your art about it just made it interesting!

( Here is the AU tag if you haven't seen any art of it )

Yes, I do! Here is a rundown on the overall au!

Despite acting sweet enough to catch the clock keepers' attention, Teru's prince persona does not match his real self: After the clock keepers used Kou as bait, tricking him into a contract, Teru became the worse assistant imaginable.

He is openly hateful towards supernaturals, he nearly killed Mirai "on accident" twice and he is a nightmare at cleaning duty, so Kaku is forced to admit he made a mistake, reluctantly leaving him in charge of rumors duty only, in which he excels at: Teru got enough power over every student to make the clock keepers jump to the most talked School Mystery.

As soon as Teru learned how the rumors work, he used his popularity to slowly change these rumors, making it so the keeper of the present gets the spotlight. He is able to stop time for 15 minutes, five times a day, and since he does not have any knowledge on supernaturals he does not care that slowly changing rumors mess with the school balance. Hanako is suspicious as hell of his increase of power.

Teru is a bit naive when it comes to this brand new undead world. While he is disgusted by the supernatural, he has no experience with it, he never killed anything before, he can't kill a creature that looks so human (unless is to protect his family).

One of the first things Akane does when he learns Teru is a supernatural by contract is to teach him how the world work, he is a helpful guide, shame Teru used to just do whatever he wanted before Akane educated him and most of the rules have already been broken.

No one can see Teru in his supernatural form, so he was used to being more mischievous while in it. He is startled that Akane can see him, but he likes messing with Akane, so instead of trying to put his mask back on in Akane's presence, he uses his exorcist skill to see the supernatural to his advantage, freely teasing Akane, delighted that normal students will just see him screaming at air.

Teru thinks Akane being an exorcist is super cool, he admires him a lot.

Akane is half convinced being half supernatural is the reason Teru, who was always so sweet and kind to everybody, 'suddenly' got a rotten personality. It takes some time for him to realize Teru has always been a little shit, he is just more comfortable near Akane.

Teru has been restrained before, and shocked by the spiritual bat too, but overall, their initial relationship is less violent.

Teru is offered enchanted glasses but he refuses. He has never felt normal in his life thanks to his overwhelming popularity and strange personality, and while he would prefer if supernaturals simply didn't exist, he hates the idea of making himself vulnerable on purpose, unable to see a danger he knows surrounds the school.

Teru is an opportunistic person, he stops caring that he’s half supernatural after one week. He likes not being noticed, and annoying Akane, so he is in his supernatural form a lot, only really thinking about his lack of humanity if he has a bad day.

Exorcist Akane used to focus more on following Aoi-chan than on exorcist duty, not caring about disappointing his parents after he fell in love. He knows a lot about supernatural lore, boundaries, and fighting still, wanting to impress Aoi with it, and genuinely dedicated to protecting people, but he isn't as knowledgeable as canon Teru.

Akane doesn't declare his exorcist status to the world, but he also doesn't hide it, using short sleeves even when he got lightning scars from training with his spiritual energy (Aoi-chan doesn’t like when he hides that he is hurt, so he will never hide his exorcist injuries!). He is also too blunt and reactive to be discreet, people constantly catch him scowling and swinging his bat at ‘air’. He got a reputation for being reliable and crazy, only Aoi-chan knows he is an exorcist.

[twiceasfrustrating]

I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

[righteousinadversity]

Can we please remember that Wei Wuxian was a Genius? Like. No. Really, Can I please list his accomplishments?

He is the master of the six arts, a prodigy of cultivation.

He is the son of a servant, an orphan with nothing to his name and the fourth most eligible bachelor. Like, everyone else on the list is literal sect heirs.

He creates a whole new form of cultivation. Can we remember the circumstances he was in? He lost his entire home, ripped his golden core out to save his suicidal sworn-brother/sect-leader/complicated martial relation/whatever Jiang Cheng is to him, and then gets thrown into what is literally hell on earth in-universe. Like, Wen Chao was afraid that he was going to return as a fierce corpse if he just killed him; that's why he threw him in there. And this Guy just waltzes out, three months later, leading the fucking corpses.

He creates the Stygian Tiger Seal, which is practically why they won the war. Like. He changed the entire tide of the war. Because fuck limitations.

He does all this while dealing with severe trauma.

He makes the burial mounds livable. like, the cultivation sects couldn't purify this place for centuries, even the Wen Sect could only seal it, and he's like, hold my Emperor's Smile.

The only thing that could kill WWX is himself. This is canonical and I take no argument.

Also, Let's be clear. Fuck the "Wei Wuxian's canonical self-esteem issues" tag. He is confident, bordering often on arrogance. He gives no fucks. He does not help others because "oh I am expendable and not worthy of life" oh fuck no. No. This Amazing man does it purely and only because it is the right fucking thing to do. He is a morally righteous man who protects the innocent at great risk to himself. He doesn't let others walk all over him. He fights back and has no patience for morons.

Honestly, the fact that he won't hurt the innocent is probably why the cultivation world didn't burn. Like, can you imagine JC or JGY or XY or WRH in his position, with his power, putting up with that shit? WWX's morality is the vice the cultivation society had against him, and the jins use it perfectly.

Like. he realises the danger of the seal and destroys it. He pays for his mistakes and accepts the consequences. He realises the seal is a dangerous mistake and sets about to correct it, even at the cost of his life.

WWX also always, always looks into the future and lives in the present, and even when he thinks of the past he tries to remember only the good things. He doesn't think of what could have been and lives without regret in his actions. He regrets the consequences of those actions, but he accepts that those actions were what he'd inevitably do in situations like that.

In conclusion, WWX is a BAMF genius who does the hard thing because it is the right thing, and I hope all the 'oblivious WWX' 'WWX's self-esteem issues' tags burn in hell.

[thyshadowwriter]

Lost & Found. Chapter 3.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That is if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: family dynamics and fluff.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

Understandment is hard when you can't speak to each other, but gestures may reach further than words.

--------

A few weeks after they returned, Floki's home had fallen into a strangely peaceful routine.

Floki would do his work, busy with Bjorn's request, while Helga would teach Revna their language for hours a day, every day, their voices being background noise for him.

Helga was radiant with joy. She loved taking care of Revna, spending a lot of time combing the long hair and doing beautiful and intricate braids while talking to her, to which Revna would sometimes reply and even if they couldn't understand each other an odd sort of dialogue would emerge.

While this arrangement made Floki uneasy, he could be thankful for his wife's happiness, she hasn't been happy in a long time. Even if happiness was a passing moment, it hurt him that Helga carried so much sorrow, most of which, if not all, he knew to be his fault.

Now, Revna was sitting on the chair shaking her leg and looking down, Floki occasionally looked at her and he didn't need to understand her words to understand her lately. She wasn't allowed outside yet and that was getting to her.

Helga came with a bowl of stew for Revna and tried to hand it to her.

"Here, I brought you food." Helga said to Revna.

She looked at the food then turned her head away to the floor and continued shaking her leg.

"You need to eat to get better, please." Helga tried to reason with her.

Revna answered with a small grunt, resting her head on her hand.

"What is it, my dear? You were doing so well." Helga said to her stroking her hair.

The girl didn’t answer, but Floki did it for her:

"She's bored, Helga. I think she wants to go out."

The realization dawned on Helga, making her smile kindly to the girl, carefully caressing her head. Poor thing, she had every right to be bored, but Helga wanted her to get stronger before facing the city.

Helga sat behind Revna and cupped her face, making the girl look at her. She spoke softly, trying to make her understand:

"I know you're bored, but you need to get strong before I show you Kattegat" she gestured to the door "I'll show you everywhere, but please, keep eating well and get better."

The girl studied her face for a while, then gave her a pout but accepted the food. She ate slowly and in small portions, an empty stare in her eyes.

That was good, Helga thought, that was great. She begged the gods for another child and they gave her one, a beautiful girl that she had already fallen in love with and would do everything in her power to protect.

Not long after, the door swung open and Ivar came into their room, dragging himself until he was inside and on his usual spot like that was his second home, which has been since the day his mother brought him there.

"Hello, Floki. Hello Helga." Ivar greeted them.

"Ivar." Floki greeted him back, spotting right away the faux innocent smile the young prince had whenever he was up to be a pain in someone’s ass.

Ivar turned his attention to the girl, who was eating and either uncaring or ignoring his presence.

"Revna." He said her name with a slight pitch to his voice and squinting at her. He had her name memorized from the odd fit it made for her, but mainly it was for the fact she slapped his hand. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, and no one that ever as much as said something wrong to Ivar got to live much longer, let alone someone stupid enough to try their luck against him, those he took delight in dealing with. Though to Revna, he probably was just a harmless cripple. Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

Revna, apparently taken back from her thoughts, looked at him. Her dark eyes gazing upon him with a spark of curiosity and interest. She had memorized his face after his first visit, how could she not? The complete stranger with very blue eyes, pale skin and a fingertips rough and calloused like the ones found on peasants, slaves or warriors. This complete stranger that touched her like it was normal or acceptable, the nerve! 

The voice in her mind screamed: ‘Was it normal to him?’, “Is this normal these strange people I’m living with?’, ‘Was that how he acted around outsiders?’, ‘What am I even doing here?’, ‘What will they do to me?’  Questions, questions, they came and went in circles for all these days.

But she put a stop to them for now, like it or not, for good or ill, he was the only other sight she had other than the couple, she could indulge in a quick distraction from the walls of the home she was living in that were starting to feel smaller by each day.

"Ivar." She said, looking straight at him, trying to pronounce what she inferred to be his name as best as she could. Adding a pitch to her pronunciation, just like he did, just because she could.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, stare fixed on her and her every minimal movement. He was sincerely surprised that she actually spoke directly at him.

His name on her lips was carried by a foreign accent, it sounded different, almost like it belonged to someone else, but her gaze on him, with expectancy in her eyes and a hint of pride on the corners of her lips turned slightly upward left no doubt she indeed meant him.

Ivar heard her before, annoyed and agitated at his first visit, so he hoped to have the same effect, but now that she spoke camly, trying to pronounce his name correctly and seemingly proud of herself for it, she threw him off balance. He had expected the annoyance she had from before, he expected her disgust at him as she wasn't pleased with his touch, why would she want the hands of a cripple on her? He even expected fear from her, but he didn't expect to hear his name slow and soft on her lips, he didn’t expect to hear her trying to reach out for him and how his own name would sound so foreign coming from her lips.

He wanted her to say it again, wanted to hear the strange way his name sounded from her, but he didn’t know how to demand it, so he nodded at her, not really knowing what to say, not that it would matter. She probably wouldn’t understand him anyway.

Revna smiled proudly to herself, a beautiful smile, if he had to say anything, he mimicked her smile shyly, though he quickly felt self conscious under her gaze and looked away, trying to find somewhere other than her eyes to look at, but nothing seemed to quite hold his attention.

Ivar felt as Revna looked away from him and continued to eat, he glanced a few times at her, the shy smile he held gone as she paid him no further attention. He noticed, however, how her legs began shaking in a slow, lazy rhythm. A stream of thoughts began in his mind: ‘Is she playing with me?’, ‘Is she bothered by my presence?’, ‘Does she pity me?’, a frown forming on his face with each thought.

He turned his attention to Helga, who was distracted with the girl's hair:

"I haven't seen her around yet. Why? When are you going to show her off?” he made a pause before adding the last part venomously “Unless she is to be a house slave."

"She's no slave, Ivar. We're adopting her." Helga corrected him, a tad annoyed at the slave mention.

"Then why haven't I seen her outside, hm? If she's to live here as a free woman, then she needs to know her way around."

"It's too soon yet. She doesn't speak our language."

"It’s not too soon, it’s been weeks! And if all the problem is that she doesn’t speak our language, then it’s another reason to do it. She'll learn much faster by experience."

"I'll take her out when she's ready." Helga answered a bit tense. She didn't want to go into detail of why she was so careful but she also didn’t want to lie to Ivar, who by the frown seemed to be growing angry.

"She seems ready enough." He said pointing to her legs.

Revna stopped shaking her legs, staring at Ivar wide eyed and lips slightly parted as she just took the spoon from her mouth. She arched an eyebrow looking lost as a puppy in the forest. Good, Ivar thought. Revna then looked confused from him to Helga, who caressed her face reassuringly.

"So, why don't you take her outside?" Ivar insisted.

Helga couldn't find an answer to stop Ivar's questioning and looked to her husband for help. Floki seemed entertained, holding a smile of his own, but as soon as he felt his wife’s eyes on him and her silent plea he intervened.

"Since when do you care about things that don't involve you?" Asked Floki.

"What?" Ivar countered astonished, "What do you mean by it? Of course it involves me. I was in this home before her, I have a say in whether she can stay or not."

"Is that so?” Floki said amused, “In this case what your mighty self has to say?"

Without missing a beat and with a self assured tone that didn’t transpired his shyness just a moment ago, he answered:

"I say this girl better adapt to our ways else she brings the wrath of the gods down on us..."

"The gods love her, Ivar. They gave her to me." Helga interrupted him. She realized the mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, renewed curiosity in his eyes.

"I just know it."

"If you say..." he eyed her suspiciously, before continuing to Floki, "...I say she better learn manners. No one should dare to hit a prince and go off unscathed."

Floki chuckled from his spot then said:

"You deserved that one. You could have used some other way of introducing yourself rather than touching someone you’ve never seen before and is not here as a slave. However, I thank the gods for letting me witness your face that day."

"You old fool..."

"Ivar. Be patient with her." Helga said to Ivar softly. She was very aware of how badly he took insults, even when none existed.

"I am patient,” he countered, “but the girl needs manners."

"Ivar..." Called Floki.

Ivar sighed before continuing:

"However, I am willing to forgive her for you,” he said looking at Helga “and an apology from the girl, once she learns how to speak our language, of course."

"Ivar, she's just a child, give her some time, I'm sure she'll adapt." Said Helga, looking at Ivar while she tied the end of one of the braids on Revna's hair.

Ivar lived with them long enough to see she truly wanted that girl to be part of their lives. He had seen the glimpses of sadness throughout his upbringing, the lost gaze Helga had when she thought no one was looking, the unsettling feeling that lurked under the surface when she saw mothers with their newborn babies. Perhaps the surprise wasn't that she took a girl to raise, but that she took that long to do it.

But he loathed the idea that in Floki’s home would live someone that would regard him in the same way the rest of Kattegat did, an outsider to add insult to injury.

"If you say, I'll try to tolerate her. If at least she can pretend to not be annoyed whenever I’m here.” Ivar said as he pointed to Revna.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her shaking her legs was irritating him. If it was the repetitive pattern, the slow rhythm, the proximity of her feet to him, or what was to him, a clear display of her displeasure with his presence. Though why would she have smiled at him with that beautiful smile if she was annoyed by him?

‘She’s playing you’, His own mind answered the question.

Both Helga and Floki looked to each other confused as to what he meant, Floki being the one that asked:

"What do you mean by that? She doesn’t even know who you are to be annoyed at you."

He pointed to Revna’s legs, this time the girl didn’t even bother to look at him and continued eating as if there wasn’t an annoyed young man pointing at her for no reason at all. Which bothered Ivar even more.

Floki couldn’t help but laugh. It was like he was a naughty child again that got all pouty and angry until he got things his way. At least he didn’t scream anymore. Not as frequently at least. His boy was maturing.

"She's bored, Ivar. Been like that for a few days, it has nothing to do with you." Floki made a point to emphasize the last part.

Ivar stared at Floki speechless. His eyes open wide, darting from Floki to the surroundings as his lips parted, which pretty much told the boatbuilder that the young prince hadn’t considered a possibility that didn’t involve him. He then rolled his head before asking:

"Then what have you been doing with her all this time?"

"We’ve been taking care of her, Ivar. Teaching and getting her used to us before she faces the others." Answered Helga.

Ivar pondered her words for a while, then agreed with her.

"What does she do in her spare time?"

Floki was quick to answer that one:

"Snoops around the house, messes up my tools… Oh, she also has a fondness for magic tricks, they make her happy like a child."

"Really?”

“Yes. I’ve done a few for her and it never fails to get her attention.”

“That’s childish.”

“She is a child, Ivar. It’s no surprise at all.”

Ivar looked like he just realized what Floki said to him. Turning his attention back to Revna as she looked around the house with that same little pout on her lips. He had of course noticed she was young when he first saw her and when he touched her face. Younger than him, in fact. Skin too soft and face still with some roundess to it, but he didn’t stop to consider what that would mean. Of course she would be like that being so young and housebound, he knew the feeling all too well from the days and days and more days he had to be inside his home because he was too sick to go out without serious risk of breaking his bones.

Looking to Helga, who hadn’t got her hands away from Revna, he knew that was her doing. ‘Why won’t she let the girl out? She’s not crippled.’ was what he thought. He knew it was her because she had the same look his mother had when she would smother him with her love as if he was still a baby and not let him do anything food himself, which only got worse when his eyes would turn blue. He loved his mother more than anyone and anything else, but he hated feeling useless.

Maybe that was what Revna felt. He was strangely relieved to not be the reason for her annoyance. At least not this time.

Then a silly idea crossed his mind. He reached for a pouch of leather he carried and took a coin from it, he then got a bit closer to Revna and touched her foot. The girl gasped startled but relaxed when she looked down at Ivar, who expectantly tried to measure her reactions to him. She tilted her head and arched her eyebrow inquisitively at him, which coupled with the cute pout on her lips made for an adorable sight. He beckoned her to come closer to him.

“Go on, my dear.” Said Helga to Revna as she looked to Helga for permission.

Revna got off of the chair and sat on the floor close to Ivar, close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not close enough to accidentally brush her legs against his, she then rested her hands on her lap and looked at him with curiosity. He studied her expression carefully, searching for the all too familiar signs of pity and disgust but found none of those. Even though he noticed she kept a distance, he was pleased she sat near him.

He then showed her the coin, playing with it between his fingers deftly, she giggled, trying to follow the coin with her eyes and relaxing a bit from her position. He then halted his movements, holding the coin between his index and middle finger, Revna froze in her position as soon as he stopped and looked from the coin to his very blue eyes. There it was, that beautiful smile together with an innocent shine in her eyes.

He then put the coin flat against the palm of his hand, closing both of them into fists and bringing them close to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off her, enjoying her full attention as she looked from his fists to his eyes. He blew air against his fists and slowly opened them, showing her the palms of his hands, the coin nowhere she could see.

Revna looked at him, giggling happily with a wide smile, a smile Ivar found to be quite beautiful and contagious, making him smile himself, although more reservedly. When she calmed down and silence fell between them, they were looking at each other’s eyes, hers filled with joy and his with pride for being the reason for it.

He soon felt self conscious again and looked away.

[spencers-renaissance]

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he���d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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[etherealluminescence]

GN!MC forcing conquering the demons into Pacts

Quick tags for those some people who reblogged my other post pt 1, I know I have a lot more but these are the only ones with comments on the post. @chalcedear @undertaker-02 @the-mexican-writer @mammonkinnie

Lucifer

You had spent countless hours against Lucifer, trying to fight him and force him into a pact. No matter what you did, it seemed like you failed.

It took you a long time to realize, but you had to train to beat Lucifer. And that you did. You knew how terrifying his power was as all the demons told you, so for a week straight you intensely trained until you were ready.

Lucifer was already on edge noticing you didn’t try anything, but he knew you wouldn’t give up, which was when you decided to strike.

He easily dodged your initial flying kick when he entered the room, but you grabbed onto the door and swung back around, kicking the tip of his head before he backed off.

He was now ready to dodge, believing that tour strategy was only to catch him off guard, but he was wrong.

When you landed, you dug your foot into the ground and threw yourself at him, but as he moved to the right, you used the shelf behind him to catch yourself and kick off it and nailed a kick straight to his head.

It was now or never as you began throwing heavy punches, trying to get him into a chokehold while he was prying you off, struggling a little as you bit onto his fingers or wings. You even bit onto his horn to stabilize yourself and kept punching.

By the end of it, you had quite a few bruises from his harsh grip, but he had a black eye and his feathers were all over the floor, you’ve won.

He probably could of killed you, but he didn’t want that, so he accepted his loss, glaring at you when you dug your heel into his stomach as Satan clapped and Belphie got out a trophy to hand you.

His pact was now your’s and you were going to flaunt it. He’s alright with the fact it was you who forced him into a pact, but it majorly hurt his ego that you were superior to him.

Mammon

You had recently arrived in the devildom half an hour ago and did not feel welcomed, in the slightest.

You tried to be nice to your guide, but he brushed you off and left you with Levi, or he intended to.

Levi gasped as he watched you tackle Mammon who tried to run off, and elbow him in the jaw. When he fell to the ground you kicked the life out of him muttering out “I tried to be nice to you fucker, if one of us is killed today it’s you.”

Levi was obviously bewildered, but took the chance to tell you to make a pact with him, his biggest mistake in his lifetime, all the poor demons in the future.

Mammon was crying a little as you forced him into a pact, and pulled him up with one hand, making him face Levi himself.

Mammon is 100% nicer to you because you’re scarier than Lucifer, and also because you genuinely treat him with respect now that he’s nice to you, something he’s not used to. Super happy to be the first ever demon you’ve conquered.

Leviathan

You had decided to do things the non violent way and participate in the TSL quiz, until Levi turned into his demon form and tried to kill you.

Taking up his challenge, you fearlessly walked towards him as Mammon was trying to tell you no, and you caught his punch.

It pushed you back a little bit, but you caught it and twisted his arm, and proceeded to beat him up in a one sided battle.

It’s not that he was weak, or others were helping you, but you genuinely managed to fight back and beat him so hard that it looked like his entire left arm was broken.

Lucifer was kinda pissed you broke his brother ngl;; but Diavolo is like it’s self defense?? And Lucifer is just like what human fights a demon across the room in self defense.

When Levi is begging for mercy he is reminded of what happened to Mammon and the rumors, accepting defeat, you make a pact mark with him, he’s kinda pissed though, like highkey.

He thinks that you probably think of him as a trophy or something to collect, based off the rumors. You probably don’t want to have a pact mark with an otaku, you just want to show off your strength.

He soon changes his attitude towards you when you show interest in him. You’re just genuinely a nice person and a caring older sibling figure, but will fight for the sake of peace and safety.

Now he’s just jealous that you spend more time with Luke than anyone else.

Satan

He offered you a pact mark easily because he wanted to piss off Lucifer, especially when you tried to give him a black eye from the pillow fight.

Very angry and disappointed when you said no, but then surprised when you said you’d beat the shit out of him instead, fair and square.

He knew you fought well, but are you sure you want to fight the embodiment of wrath himself? And you’re just like yep, the small tiny you, so confident.

He didn’t take it too seriously despite seeing the actual proof multiple times, and he watched you used his messy room to your advantage, even using the bookshelves to help you get air.

His ass was easily kicked even when he was serious. “You know, after facing both Levi and Beel, you aren’t much of a challenge.” You casually said as you formed a pact mark with him.

Slightly irked by the comment but delighted to be apart of your fan club, probably yells “BEAT THEIR ASS!” On the sidelines.

Pisses Lucifer off whenever you two fight and Lucifer gets an injury from you, and asks if Lucifer ever wants ice, just to be a dick.

Diavolo and Satan are in the fan club which PISSES Lucifer off when the two are in front of him discussing how you will one day (undoubtedly) beat Diavolo.

Asmodeous

You made a pact with Asmo after accidentally beating him up, he was begging for mercy and you kind of felt bad.

You insisted it wasn’t on purpose and he kind of avoids you for awhile after the pact mark. He’s glad Solomon isn’t like you, otherwise the devildom would cease to exist.

He’s eventually fine with you, and loves to take photos of you and Luke together acting like siblings because it’s the cutest thing. Although demons are scared of you they do kinda admire you, and seeing you soft with Luke is good for his devilgram.

Soon treats you like a friend instead of a monster that just so happened to kick his ass and make him beg.

You’re so tiny that it’s kinda cute and he nearly forgets someone like you is violent and scary so when he took you shopping and someone shoplifted, he was concerned for your nails after you disfigured them.

Will 10/10 treat your tense muscles and let you soak in his tub.

Beelzebub

He’s seen you fight before but damn he couldn’t believe it. You’re just so smol?? Couldn’t he crush you?

Lesson learned as he was knocked out after he broke your room. You didn’t want to hurt Besl since he was always courteous with you, so you knocked him out quickly.

He doesn’t remember more than you launching at him and the feel of his wings being tugged and his neck suddenly throbbing.

Mammon who watched beg for Beel’s life on his knees, asking you to spare him. You just nodded and waited for Beel to wake up before making a pact.

When he makes one, you give him some custard you asked Mammon to go out and buy really quick, you said please, and Beel is just so happy!!

He tried to kill you and he feels so bad but you’re just so kind!! Wants to protect you so bad but knows you’re just so badass so he instead helps you care for Luke.

Belphegor

You’d definitely be lying if you said you didn’t see it coming. His brothers had already tried to kill you, he was locked in an attic, and not to mention he gave you a weird vibe, you would of left him alone if you weren’t a nice person.

He tells you thank you for freedom and transforms, ready to kill you. No one got in his way and instead said “good luck Belphie” or “Nice knowing you” so he thought they wanted you dead.

Then he hears Beel say “I don’t want you to die, Belphie” and he is so confused? As he aimed his attack and you just end up punching him square in the face.

Afterwards, you kicked him in the stomach and grabbed his tail, swinging him into a wall, and knocking him over and over and over.

He is out cold, so when he wakes up and sees everyone congratulating him on surviving, he puts two and two together.

You were sitting on top of him and demanding a pact mark, and he unwillingly gives it to you after you nearly rip out his horn.

Pissed off and scared of you, slightly, but more impressed by the fact that even Lucifer struggles with you. When he finds out about the sheer amount of pact marks you have he’s starting to wonder when humans got so strong? And it became an endless spiral of him being pissed off.

Don’t worry though!! He eventually gets used to you.

Diavolo

Super happy it was finally his turn!! Like you did it, congrats, wants it you’d like some tea and what kind of attire to wear for his asskicking.

Is absolutely not looking down on you, he genuinely believes you’re strong. Because of that, he’s just so excited to face you. You beat both Lucifer and Barbatos, the majority of RAD, and you’re such a cool person!!

When you approach him you looked so badass. “Aye, prince of kiss my ass, I’m here to claim you once and for all and become the new ruler of this place.” You yelled out as you kicked down the door to his office.

The first time you two fought, he won. You had a lot of bruises, but managed to rip out some of his hair, at least. He finds it admirable how you still kept going despite him clearly hearing a rib break.

SUPER excited to tell Satan about it!! Hopes Barbatos recorded the fight so he could broadcast it at RAD during an announcement or something, but Barbatos rejected that idea.

Poor Diavolo only wanted to be included in this ass beating trend, but super happy when you return three days later and try to beat him up again, you even changed up the way you fight!!

You won’t ever know this, but one day he purposely changed his office’s layout to benefit your fighting style more, so when you finally beat him he was so ecstatic, his lips were bleeding but he was laughing, congratulating you and couldn’t wait to give you a pact.

Oh boy was he SO happy when you flaunted it, and sat in his desk chair with a hand on your chin, giving an order to Barbatos who recorded it, acting as if you really were the ruler of the devildom.

“Could you get some bandages for your former ruler, please?” You asked, feeling accomplished that Luke was officially safe during his stay in the devildom, and Diavolo was just swooning.

The public is 10/10 avoiding you because they are SCARED for their life. The people are convinced you’re like a nuclear weapon against demons.

Barbatos

He knew one day you’d defeat Lucifer, but it was so quick. You only needed a week of prep time?

Steps up his game a bit, because after two weeks of training you approach him ready to fight, and he can sense you’re not the same.

As he uses his tail to put you out of the room, he automatically feels your sharp teeth digging into his tail. He can withstand it no problem, until you literally rip a bit of his tail chunk out.

You didn’t let go even as he flung you off his tail, and you even dug your nails in. He showed no expression, but it was genuinely painful as you climbed his tail onto him, his tail no longer as useful because he was very sure you would rip through it.

His fighting against you one on one went well for him, he could see and easily predict your moves easily, until you head butted him and began every trick in the book.

From kicking, punching, biting, scratching, you name it, you did it. He was finally at your mercy when you were cover in both your own and his blood, while he was sure his tail was missing some pieces, and you were absolutely not letting go.

He’s 100% convinced you’ve gone feral in a span of three weeks, but that’s okay. The only thing stopping you from fighting the prince was now defeated, and he apologised to Diavolo frequently, who was only super excited in return.

Don’t worry you apologised for his tail and helped him with his job for awhile, totally not to also study Diavolo in his natural habitat.

First time you’ve ever seen him smile so soft was when he got his ass kicked so hard by you that his tail went chomp chomp.

Luke

Surprised pikachu face.

He understands you beating up Mammon,, and maybe some lesser demons,, but did you REALLY defeat Lucifer, Barbatos, and Diavolo.

Surprised pikachu face as you shrug and say “yeah I guess. I’m the ruler now, do you feel safe yet?”

Lucifer yells out you’re not the ruler just because you formed a pact with Diavolo, but you ignored him and smile at Luke, patting his head.

Luke is just nodding like “I’m safe!!!” While in his head he’s like WOW whaT PLEASE EXPLAIN.

Luke constantly calls you his older sibling now, tells daddy Simeon ALL about it, and brags about you to the demons who even look at him.

Praise this precious baby as he makes you all the sweets in the world. You’ve literally defeated demons of all sorts, even the most powerful, and all you want is to see him smile.

Will probably cry.

[frenchbreads-writing]

Token of Appreciation|{Zagreus}

This originally was only going to be 800 words but I have no self control and my sleep schedule is ruined so this happened. I hope you guys enjoy this, I know its different from my usual bnha stuff so I just hope y’all don’t mind.

I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Zagreus x Male Reader

Words: 1.3k (1,308)

Warning(s): mentions of death

Requests: Open

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The rough texture of stone and the sting of Asphodel's heated air on Zagreus's face was the last thing he felt as the hydra landed the final blow.

The world around him went dark, as it usually did and the darkness embraced him.

He had no more death defiance’s remaining, so he waited for the all too familiar splash of the blood-red waters of the River Styx to envelop him.

To have him wake up inside of his home, the House of Hades, making him face his father again after yet another failed attempt at escaping.

But the unnaturally cold waters never touched him.

Instead, a warmth embraced him. One that warmed his soul and soothed his aching heart.

It was a stark contrast to the blistering heat of Asphodel that nipped at Zagreus like the teeth of the three-headed Cerberus as he made his way across the bubbling rivers of magma.

He felt at peace as he lay suspended in the area between death and resurrection.

This wasn’t the first time he felt this warmth.

His wounds forgotten, he embraced the familiar gentle tides of peace and tranquillity that washed over him.

A hand reached out of the darkness and cupped his cheek.

“Zagreus.” A familiar deep gentle voice called out to him. “My love, open your eyes.”

Doing as he was told, Zagreus was met with the sight of you.

Your silk toga draped elegantly over your frame with such beauty that it would put Aphrodite to shame, the jewelry that Zagreus himself gifted you, could not shine nearly as bright as your eyes, the eyes that held knowledge he could not even hope to fathom. They pierced his bi-colored orbs and filled him with awe.

He would never get used to your heavenly aspect.

“Hello, handsome.” Zagreus muttered.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed pulling away from him.

“Even when you’ve just died you’re still as charming as always.”

Zagreus laughed and reached up, took your hand from his face, brought it to his lips, and placed a kiss to the back. He then leaned in and captured your lips in a gentle kiss.

You were the first one to pull away pressing your foreheads together.

“I’ve missed you, (Y/N).”

“I’ve missed you too, my prince.”

He shook his head and laughed.

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that.”

You chuckled in response.

The two of you held each other relishing in the other’s warmth.

“The gods of Olympus have not stopped talking about you.”

He hummed in a questioning manner.

“Have they?”

You nodded

“Yes, they’re excited that you’ve decided to join them up on Olympus.” You paused for a moment. “I wonder how they’ll react when they realize that you won’t be joining them.”

He looked away, cringing at the thought of how his Olympic family will fare with the news of his deception.

“I’ll… get to that when it happens.”

The two of you went back into silence.

Though you used this moment to get a good look at Zagreus.

He had many injuries from his many battles in Tartarus and Asphodel. Having only a few chances to rest and even fewer chances to heal his wounds. He looked utterly exhausted.

Pulling back, you looked down at your intertwined hands with furrowed brows.

“My prince, how I wish you would end this rebellion, I don’t think I can bear to watch you go through so much pain and suffering.” You let your shoulders slump. “Especially when I cannot be there to protect you.”

His gaze lowered for a moment before rising back to look at your face.

“I know, but you know why I must do this.”

He pulled his hands free of yours, cupping your face, making you meet his eyes.

“I cannot waste the rest of my life, trapped in this dreadful place any longer, and if I must fight the entire kingdom of the dead to escape, then so be it.”

You stayed silent before letting out a deep breath.

“I knew you would say that.”

You straightened up.

“That is why I will continue to do whatever I can to help guide you on your journey.”

The two of you stared into each other’s eyes a mutual understanding written in your eyes.

The moment was then interrupted by a lapse in your sphere of peace when Zagreus hissed in pain as his wounds began to regain their sting.

“It appears our time here has come to an end.”

“It appears so.” He hissed. “I will miss you, my love.”

You leaned in and pressed your lips against his and hugged him close to your chest.

“I will miss you too.”

You felt him become lighter and lighter until he fazed right through your arms.

You watched as he fell into the spectral waters of the River Styx. His form becoming obscured by the blood-red waters until he was no longer visible.

“Goodbye, Zagreus until we meet again, my love.”

Zagreus awakened in the entrance hall of the House of Hades.

He climbed out of the river and sighed.

All of his blessings have been purged in the process of dying and he’s back home. Though he should be used to it by now he can’t get rid of the slight disappointment that gnaws at him.

He made his way down the dimly lit hall, passing by shades waiting in line in front of Hades. He walked until he approached the snoozing form of Hypnos, the god of sleep.

Said god startled awake when Zagreus approached.

“Huh? Oh, hey Zagreus, killed by a hydra this time? That sucks, ya know the heads of the hydra creep me out big time I’m glad I don’t have to be anywhere near them, I feel bad for the suckers who make the mistake of getting too close.”

Zagreus listened to the gods rambling.

“Uh-huh, lucky you.”

Hypno dismissively waved his hand.

“I didn’t mea- wait, what’s that?”

Zagreus raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Hypnos pointed to something on his chest.

He looked down and saw a gold necklace hanging from his neck.

“That’s new, where did that come from?” Zagreus asked as he hooked a finger around the chain. The metal felt unnaturally warm.

“Beats me, but if you don’t mind I think I should get back to work.”

He nodded and stepped away. 

Turning on his heel, he would have to pass by his father to get back to his room.

Taking in a breath, he held his head up high and began walking.

He felt his father's gaze burning into him the entire way, but he did not utter a word.

Zagreus entered his room, immediately heading to the large mirror gifted to him by Nyx, using it to get a clearer look at the necklace.

The pendant at the end of the necklace is in the shape of a skull, with a small heart-shaped diamond embedded in the forehead.

He racked his brain for where it came from.

It wasn’t there the last time he visited the mirror and he hasn’t received any more keepsakes from anyone recently.

He stared at it before it clicked in his mind.

The pendant. It was the same one that you adorned on a necklace that you wore before he had gifted you a new one.

He smiled at his reflection. He felt the familiar soothing warmth softly emanating from it.

He reached up and lightly clutched it to his chest.

“Thank you, my love. I’ll treasure it.”

He felt the necklace pulse in his hand.

With a determined look, he made his way through the courtyard and stood at his window preparing to exit.

“(Y/N), my love, guide me.”

The necklace pulsed it’s warmth once more in response.

He took a deep breath and jumped, prepared to fight through hell once more.

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{Tag list}If you want to be added to the tag list, send an ask or look at my pinned post!

@lotsofrandom @your-strangelove @yumeneji @nahtoolazy @dumbass-calamari @naonaocat @tamakiwithcrab @delightfulcupquakequeen @brithedemonspawn @chatnoirfangirl1624 @redsharksimp <- Sorry anyone who isn’t tagged properly but I wasn’t able to tag you!

[giorno-plays-piano]

I would like a request for Steve Demon, something very dark and hot, thank you! 😈❤️

Hi darling! Thank you for your patience 🙏💖 This story was inspired by Slavic witch legends and VN Demonheart!

Oh, my love, don't forsake me

Pairing: demon!Steve Rogers x witch!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, dark magic, dubcon, witch!Nakia, mentions of violence.

Words: 1670.

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You remembered your first encounter with him well. It had been your first Walpurgis Night when Nakia presented you to a coven: you had been taken through an initiation ritual to become a true witch, and all of you danced and drank and laughed, jumping through grand fire and burning your clothes till you all had been naked, only jewelry - necklaces, earrings and bracelets - left on your bodies.

It was then when demons had arrived, many of them flying directly to their witches and starting dancing with them, picking them up and letting them ride them high up in the sky as if they were horned horses, and you froze on your spot, watching their red bodies glowing.

"You will choose your demon lover today." Nakia whispered to you, smiling to her own mighty demon, his shoulders wide and muscular, his gaunt wings so large he could cover ten people with each. "There are several of those who are free."

"Today?" You asked her nervously, watching those demons without a witch on their backs. "But I thought I would be given time to let them know better."

You knew no one but Nakia, and the thought of choosing your demon right this very moment seemed a bit frightening to you. The witch was choosing her demon lover for eternity - unless both her and him would decide to separate, but it was highly unlikely as the bond they built had always been hard to break. How could you do it without knowing a demon first? Today you could make the worst mistake in your entire life - and afterlife, considering that your soul would travel back to Hell with your demon by your side.

"Don't fret over little things." The witch flashed you a wide smile, her flawless skin glowing softly in the dim light coming from the fire meters away from you. "You will be fine. Look at them! Who is the one you want the most?"

She motioned to the demons flying up in the air, their wings flapping, and you realized you could actually see what was beneath the loincloth of some of them, your face growing unbearably hot. How indecent! Why didn't they wear something more concealing?

"Because they are showing new witches what they got to offer." Your mentor laughed at your bemused expression, and you chuckled, thinking how you were standing naked in front of them with just a think golden necklace on, the only valuable jewelry you had. "Don't be shy, dear. Look, look at them! Ask me if you see someone attractive, and I will tell you everything I know."

Oh dear, it was probably the most embarrassing thing you had ever done, but you couldn't miss your only opportunity to know more about your future lover. Besides, you didn’t become a witch to spend your days caring about morals and decency, did you? You were going to sin till the very end of your life, and today could be a nice starting point. In the end, a physical body and all its parts were nothing to be ashamed of.

Watching several men, their skin scarlet, floating above the grand fire and laughing along the other couples, you tried focusing on those who you thought looked the strongest and sheepishly whispering to Nakia. You felt a little distressed her own lover had to wait for you, but the demon only grinned at you, baring his pearly white teeth, and bowed his head a little, visibly agreeing to wait longer. Maybe they weren’t all as scary as you imagined? You certainly hoped so, pointing to several demons and asking your mentor about them.

“This one? This is Tony, he’s a clever but vicious sort.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Turning her face to you, Nakia gently caressed your head as if you were her child. “No, darling. Not to us. But you are right, I doubt Tony would be the right choice for you. Maybe young Peter? It is his first Walpurgis Night, but he’s of age. Or Brock, that demon over there? Oh no, look at this ruthless barbarian...”

However, before you had time to look at the man she had pointing at, another demon suddenly crossed your way, and you stilled when he looked directly at you, his large crimson wings blocking the view for both Nakia and you. He stood out from the crowd with his glowing golden hair and immense wings that were bigger than even Nakia’s lover, and you frown when the demon landed on his goat hooves, aggressively ripping his loincloth away and baring his flesh in front of you. Your face grew hot at his shameless display, and searched for your mentor’s hand, clutching it in yours like a child, truly. What was that? Did you make the demon upset? Had you broken some rule you didn’t know about?

Nervously glancing at Nakia’s lover you saw him distressed, too, but he didn’t move further to protect you, standing on his place. Was it because there was no true danger or because he simply couldn’t protect his witch against the monster in front of you?

“Who is he?” Your whisper was barely audible as you trembled, clinging to Nakia, and she wrapped her warm arm around your shoulders, leaning closer to your ear.

“Steven of Triskelion. Do not be scared, my darling, he isn’t here to hurt you. I wonder why he’s courting you so... passionately, though.”

“Courting me?”

“Oh yes, my dear. Look at him, putting himself on display like that for a young witch. His desire for you must be strong.”

Softly waving at her lover and seeing him relaxing, Nakia gently pushed you in front, encouraging you to come closer to the demon whose gaze was so intense you were worried he would make a hole in you. Oh, you needed to talk to him. Probably. You weren’t sure, but by the look on the witch’s face you guessed the demon in front of you wasn’t necessarily a bad choice. Judging by his enormous form and his thick, veiny cock in between his muscled legs, maybe he really weren’t.

Suddenly feeling very self-conscious in front of him, you tried smiling and prevent yourself from covering your body with your hands - he had just shown himself completely naked to you, and it would be disrespectful of you to do otherwise. You certainly didn’t want to upset a demon like him.

“Hello, Sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You said politely, hoping he wouldn’t mind the way you talked to him. Should you bow to him? Offer him your hand? Kiss his cheek? No, no, you wouldn’t dare.

For a second you thought he was going to hit you, but you knew a demon would never do that to a witch, especially with a whole coven present. They’d ban him from ever pairing with any of them, stripping him of a possibly ally and lover. Only the most insane demons would try doing something as reckless and disrespectful, but they weren’t allowed to Walpurgis Night celebrations. Thank... Devil?

The demon suddenly chuckled, baring his sharp fangs, “You don’t have to be so polite with me, little witch. I am sorry for intimidating you for it was not my intention. Come closer.”

Liar! He loved the effect he had on you, you didn’t have to get inside his horned head to see it. Was he of patronizing kind? Maybe. It wasn’t the worst one among demons straight from Hell, and you smiled at him, putting your arm in his as he drew you closer to him, his other arm softly cupping your chin. His crimson body was radiating heat, and you enjoyed it when demon made you lean onto his wide chest. Despite being somewhat shy about the whole encounter, you were starting to warming up, demon’s touch having a strange effect on you.

“Allow me to give you this.” The man murmured into your ear, and you felt the heaviness of a string of pearls on your neck, touching it with your fingers and watching the demon with wide eyes.

Of course, you have heard of witches receiving gifts from their demonic lovers, but Steve was still a stranger to you. Was it right to accept something so expensive from him? While you tried looking for Nakia to ask her advice, the demon wrapped his large gaunt wings around you two, preventing you from searching for your friend, and forcefully turned your face to him, claiming your lips as if he wanted to devour you. You had no time to react before his huge tongue got inside your mouth, his clawed hand running up your rib cage and cupping your breasts as you whimpered against him, his body blazing hot. He didn’t give you a second to get accustomed to the kiss before spreading his wings and flapping them as he unceremoniously grabbed you by the hips and flew up, taking you with him. You let out a little mewl, clinging to Steve for life. What was he doing?!

“Don’t be scared, kitten. I’m not asking you to ride on my back just yet.” The demon’s voice was soft, but you could see his grin getting wider, and a part of you was nervous at his somewhat aggressive courting. “But wouldn’t you like it? I can be a powerful ally for a witch and a gentle lover for an innocent kitten like you.”

“Be careful, dear. Steve became bitter after his witch has left him to return to God,” Nakia’s voice said in your head, and you frowned, knowing the demon most certainly heard her, too.

She left him for God? What, how was this even possible?

Demon’s grin turned wicked as he kissed your forehead, getting higher and higher as other demons and witches danced below you. “It’s true, darling. That’s why after you choose me to be your lover I will carve your heart out of your chest and keep it with me.”

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