#simply because I think they look cool and his relationship with the Sheep

[samuraionyourmom]

Recently rewatched a playthrough of Sucker for Love (if you don't know what that is, it's a very fun and silly game about dating Eldritch/Cthulu-like gods. I highly recommend checking it out, the writing is excellent.) Anyway, it got me thinking about soukoku, as all things do. Basically, Dazai as the character you play as in the game and Chuuya as one of the gods with some alterations.

So, Dazai. He gets into the Eldritch stuff purely out of boredom. There's nothing in this world for him live for, so why not try searching for it in something beyond this world? He has the money and the time, so why not. He gets the books, the robes, and everything else he can find that relates to it. He doesn't necessarily believe in it, but it's something else to do besides throwing himself in a river. Eventually, he accidentally ends up summoning Arahabaki, the God of Calamity, Harbinger of Chaos and Destruction, aka Chuuya.

And immediately Dazai thinks he's the hottest thing in the world. It's just funniest thing to me to imagine their interactions being like:

Chuuya: Who dares disturb my slumber? You have brought about the very end of mankind and reality as you know it! Tremble before me as-

Dazai: You're hot.

Chuuya: HAH?!

Chuuya is completely caught off guard by this human's strange infatuation with him. He is the very essence of destruction, the end of all things, calamity incarnate. He is literally going to destroy the world. And yet, Dazai seems unbothered by this. In fact, he seems to be intrigued by Chuuya's cosmic power instead of afraid like he should be. He is down horrendously bad for a being he can't even begin to comprehend, and he loves it.

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮  tags ; top + gn!reader (no desc of parts but reader is fucking him), unabashed daddy kink, implied verse, small age gap, bottom megumi, petnames (boy, baby) thorough discussion of megumis daddy issues in exactly the direction you think, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.3k

✮  a/n ; i haven't slept . im not responsible for anything. will not be taking questions at this time. 🫡

He's the prettiest thing you've ever seen in your life.

You tell him as much. He pretends to hate hearing it. Soft features bend at hard angles to convincingly drive in the fact that he detests it. Megumi is always like that. For the years you've known him - anything he's at risk of playing his hand too quickly, he retracts. You think that's why you're so addicted to getting him to let go.

He scowls, has the signature Zenin mean mug that almost makes the whole schtick convincing. You know better though. Maybe because you've known him since highschool, or maybe because you simply find him easy to read.

You've never met someone so touchstarved or so delicate all while being so, so mean. There's a lot Megumi can do but he's shit at hiding when something bothers him. When he's irritated, he's petulant and when he's pleased - you'd almost describe him as docile. In his own way. In the way a dog who used to cage fight could be.

You have an interesting relationship to Megumi. You're a stray just like him - with your family being a Zenin lapdog and you being their black sheep. You have a lot to relate on, but Megumi finds your attitude grating. Finds the harshness of your personality difficult, and finds the finesse you have for slaughter and violence to be nauseating.

It's probably why he makes wide, wet eyes at you whenever you're alone. Closest thing he has to someone he can depend on with more experience. You're quick to appraise his work when you go on trips together. Despite your acting smug and Megumis frustration about your attitude, he soaks up the praise like a pretty little sponge. He's only a few years younger than you though, despite how he acts.

(Sometimes you think he wants the gap to be a little wider. )

A cute kid, only two years younger than you. Soft, striking green eyes. Soft lips. A mean little glare and spiky mop of black hair to compliment pale, cream colored skin. Megumi blushes easy, bruises even easier. His knees and elbows are a pretty cherry-blossom pink like something out of a movie scene.

The first time you fuck Megumi, its mostly because you're drunk and interested. It'd be stupid to not be interested in a face so pretty and desperate for approval.

All times after that are false happenstance. You make a routine of it - a silent game that makes it look like you're coercing him so he doesn't have to accept his own wants with any seriousness. You're cool with the ambiguity cause you're a little sick in the head. It's enough to fuck him, and sometimes when you're generous - to have him fuck you.

Megumi is pretty when he's being fucked. He changes his tune fast when his dick is a little hard and his guard is down - never thought that bratty little fucker could whine like he's in heat until you pulled the sounds out of his mouth yourself.

You always reaffirm how much he loves attention and praise and pampering when you fuck Megumi. He likes when you appraise him like that too. Soft compliments about his pretty little hole and the tightness of his waist. You manage it with relative ease. Makes your whole core throb just to see how much he twitches over something so slight and so easy. Such a mean fucking kid - such a brat, all welled up anger and abandonment issue.

Sometimes you wanna make him cry from him pain.

But most times, like now - you offer Megumi sweet pleasure. Give him that gentle, doting authority that he seems to fiend for. Desperate for reprieve in a way that stains his face, despite his attempts to brush it off.

Megumi takes dick like he was born for it. Slender fingers grip at your waist and claw at your back like he wants to rip you in half - tear you limb from limb but his legs wrap around your waist like he'd die if you left him for one fucking second. Megumi likes being full, you think. And he likes more when you praise him for taking your cock with such ease.

It's not rocket science to figure out he has some issues with authority. That distant relationship with his sensei and absent father make it obvious that he never wants to let anyone get too close. He could never really entertain certain relationships, he could never actually ask for approval. It's too little, too late.

Still, it surprises you a little when you first hear him say daddy. Not a lot, but enough that you pause in mid-thrust to stare at him a bit. He's mortified at the realization.

But you're not much less of a scumbag you figure, than all the figures in his life. You nod instead, feel arousal spark up in your stomach and claw it's way into your throat as you fuck him even harder.

("Daddy, huh?" You laugh because it's funny and you think the feeling of being so turned on you pass out is inappropriate. "Sure, baby. I'll be your daddy if you want." )

He doesn't say shit to you about it afterwards. Can barely look you in the during your post-sex aftercare and chat - though that conversation is never particularly romantic. You think the whole thing makes him want to die, so you don't really bring it up outside of a knowing look.

But it happens more often than that. Like a dam breaking, something slips and now Megumi can't close it despite how desperately he seems to want too. It's not even that you're particularly into it at the start.

But well, he's pretty. Prettiest little thing you've ever seen in your life, even though he's tall and strong. He's got this grace that overwhelms you into fucking him dumb whenever you can. Try as you might, you will is not strong enough to not lust over someone like him calling you daddy. That level of unprecedented whining, the affection, the need in such an embarrassing word makes your feel so horny you can barely think.

So, it doesn't particularly surprise you when Megumi calls you daddy. Not anymore.

He's weepy in the face, somewhere in the distance - and he's still wearing his pajamas when you come see him. The scene is uncomfortably domestic between two people who aren't dating, but you don't really care either way. Megumi is pretty everywhere, but he's especially needy getting fucked on his kitchen counter sitting up to cling to you.

His arms around your shoulders, face drawn together with shameless embrassed. His cock is twitchy, leaking against the flat plane of his stomach with unbridled enthusiasm. He says it in a whisper today which you can't help but find cute.

It's raw in the back of his throat, mildly gravelly as his nails dig into your shoulders with an enthusiastic whine. "Daddy. Fuck, please, can't."

"What's daddy's boy want huh?" You say, obviously mocking - a hand wrapped around shaft with a thumb over his slit. Megumi shivers. Lets out a shameful moan at the word boy that makes you laugh hard, makes your head spin dizzy with lust.

"Wanna cum," He says, but doesn't beg. Doesn't know how and couldn't figure it out if you paid him. You've spoiled him rotten after all. Filthy, really but he's prettier when he's acting precious. At least to you. "Make me cum, daddy please."

"Really milking it today, huh boy?" You chuckle and all he does is whimper. "Okay, okay. So fucking needy. Go on and cum, baby. Cum for daddy."

Megumi lets out a whine. A sound you barely knew he had in him as you say it that time and you laugh again and again as you bottom out. You watch him squirm as he finally finishes, back arching off the counter as the pleasure runs through him.

His face is still hazy when he comes down. Still beautiful in that way that makes you want to fuck him stupid and indulge for the rest of your life.

"Feel good, baby?"

He blushes faint and doesn't bother pushing you away. "Mm."

[affableramen]

hiii i love ur writing and i have a request. what do u think pantalone would do if reader got a vision? tysm!!!!!

Hi, thanks so much

Actually it is a very complicated situation both in terms of emotions and future interaction of the characters. I think there could be 2 possible scenarios of how this case could develop:

The reader is hiding existence of her Vision for a long time, wanting Pantalone to feel closer and more similar to her in terms of being a loser, unsuccessful and not chosen. Yet she ends up getting a Vision after all.

Potentially it would mean that she is lying to him and sooner or later he will find out about it, as we all know Pantalone is a pure character of wisdom, there is nothing to slip off his fingers. In this case he would call her privately to his office and plan the discussion with cold mindset. He would even make his own lines in his head to not appear agitated (he is very agitated and shaky, but because it is also Pantalone we may not even see it – he is a good example of artless subtlety).

The reason for you to hide your Vision from him is because you would like to make him feel safe and protected, knowing that you are just as desparate and lonely as him. Around you there is a bunch of ‘heroes’, Vision users which make Pantalone most definitely feel like a black sheep. Knowing that you obtained no Vision he found himself comfortable, given the feeling ‘Yes, she is just like me’. After a while this however vanishes, once he learns you actually possess one. He cannot be mad at you, because he realises it is your responsibility to wield one, but he cannot deny how infuriated he becomes because of your lies. In this case I think he needs time and the best you can do for him is just leave him alone for a while before he cools off. He will, for sure, have a long ass conversation with you about why you’d keep it secret from him. In this case you just calmly explain him the situation that you wanted for him to feel better and you to not be the one priveleged.

However if acquiring the Vision was a recent achievement for you and Pantalone discovers it in the real time, he will be extremely shaken as the situation happens right in front of his eyes, and he is the spectator. When it is something that happened before you knew him, it is more likely acceptable for him because he does not hold power over your achievement, however if you get one during a relationship (or simply encounter, let’s imagine the two of you are not necessarily lovers) it will be difficult for him because it is something he could not control.

***

Pantalone was sitting in his headquarters, his hand gripped the glass of whiskey when he called you in. The guards carefully led the way to his private office and shut the door tightly, making room for you and Regrator to have a private conversation.

His fingers gripping the glass were shaking slightly which was definitely ironic, considering how usually composed he was, in front of you included.

As the door was closed you slowly approached his desk but stopped at a reasonable distance as you sensed the cold atmosphere between you two. It felt like Pantalone was not ready at all to let you in closer.

“You got a Vision”, he didn't ask you, rather stated a fact. A fact that raised both panic and frustration in you as you understand how it might affect the relationship between you two.

In all his hundreds of years he never got one, but you received it just in your twenties. His blood must have been boiling.

“I got it just recently.”

His playing with the whiskey glass stopped and he looked at you. The lights reflected the metal of his silver glasses which would only add coolness to the already icy room.

“How did you get it?”

That was the question you feared the most. Yet he already asked you in, and you had no point in lying and keeping things to yourself. You were not currently on good terms exactly and suffered quite an argument however Pantalone still treated you as a valuable asset, with a possible development of you into his official lover. Or at least that’s what you wanted to believe in. You wanted to feel as someone important to him, and it wasn't entirely stupid. It’s just that it was above his icy-cold rationality.

“Actually, after I fought you”, you responded quietly, your voice suddenly breaking, no matter how anxious you were, you felt as if you had to. “I got my Vision after I fought you.”

Pantalone scoffed,

“Wonderful. Amazing. You got what you wanted, didn't you?”

“I do not understand you.”

Pantalone shifted in his seat and finally stood up, he approached you with solid steps.

“Wasn’t it your dream – defeating me? I thought you would feast upon my sufferings. But you seem reluctant to it. What, cat got your tongue?” he would continue mocking you, his face inches away from yours, but his eyes were glassy once he opened them, as if he were crying all night like a teenager after being bullied at school.

“You know it is not like this. I dreamt of Vision, but when I met you, I promised I wouldn’t be seduced by its power.”

“Yes, that’s what you promised. And look at yourself now”, circling over you languidly, Pantalone used an excruciatingly degrading tone. “Now you’re chosen. You’re a hero. And what heroes do? They defeat villains. And that’s exactly what you did.”

“I never wanted this”, you tried to convey some thoughts into his head, to soothe him, but Pantalone immediately became blind to all your opinions. “It is not my fault that the Vision appeared to me. I didn't force it to come.”

“You want me to believe in this bullshit? You used me like a piece of meat to only leave me in shambles and get your little artifact. And now I am nothing in your eyes except for a villainous Harbinger.”

His words hurt and you could not deny it. Your hand softly grazed his fingers, not inviting into a intimate contact but making it enought for him to have shivers down his spine.

“Your tongue is spilling poison, as always, but weren't you mad now, you would never say such things to me. You just need to cool down.” With those, you exited his office, leaving him completely alone with his dark thoughts. But the way you touched his hand was so warm and gentle, he felt as if he needed more of those, and his conflicting thoughts were messing around his mind. He was weaker than this, he wanted you back immediately.

“I did not allow you to leave my office yet”, he spat. “Come back.

You’d ignore him and decisively leave without looking bad knowing that it would be better for him.

“I said come back here you idiot!” He’d scream and run after you, but it was late and made no sense. He fell to his knees, both his traumatic experience and alcohol taking a toll on him. Weak in his legs, he silently started sobbing, his head hanging down as he found himself completely shattered and unable to hold back tears. How could a mere mortal obtain a Vision while he was the one waiting for it for almost 400 years? This is unfair! How is he worse than anyone? How is yourself better than him? Where did he make a mistake? Why is he such a failure? Is he a joke, a mistake of this world?

You thought that once he’d be tranquil again, you’d visit him and make amends, but currently all he could do was accuse you of something you weren't guilty of. However, once the quiet sobs reached out to your ears, you made your way back from the staircase to his office. Upon entering the lavish, elegant decorum of his headquarters you see a not so elegant man sitting on the floor like a pathetic mess. The sight was nothing you would ever expect from him and if such a rational and reserved man acted this way, it would only mean the pain was insufferable. It is stupid, you thought, but you got nothing to lose, as you kneeled down to him and took his hands in yours, the cold leather of his gloves rubbing against your hands as you embraced him, trying to share the heat with his shaking body. And he let you do this, surrendering himself to you as he realised all you ever did for him was caring, not taking. And he had no right to accuse you of obtaining a Vision, no matter how hard it was to his chest.

[nekokoaa]

The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (III)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

4K words | (3/5) chapters

Chapters:

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V)

Author's notes: I work as a freelance copywriter so I had to prioritize my projects but I still managed to get this done! Enjoy! :) Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list.

Also on AO3

III.

Sometimes you wish you were mindless—just a rusty cog of a machine in a 9 to 5 corporate job. Simply, a taciturn sheep led by a shepherd, waiting for the day a butcher’s knife is pressed against its neck. It was easier to handle life in such a way. Regrets can never be born when allied with carelessness.

But it was something beyond you. Clearly. The throes of passion had tempted you that night. His hand on your hip firmly held you in place, fingers pressed into your suit. Covetous crimson eyes searched between your eyes and lips long enough that the sweat of your skin gathered at your clavicles. But you managed to resist his heat, disappointing, yes, but at least you still had your dignity—your morals. If it wasn’t for that, you might’ve been in his bed that night, rocking your hips against his without a single care in the world.

Three weeks had passed by and you haven’t had a session with him since that night. You were canceling them in hopes that the fire between you fizzles. With distance, desire usually fades so you only hoped that night was just your hormones acting up and there wasn’t a deeper meaning to how you felt.

Between that time, you had the opportunity to meet Gwen Stacy from 65. She was a nice girl, cool, and very much like all of you. Burdened with the sense of justice with a side of wittiness.

She was popular, especially among the Peters who had lost their Gwens. They looked at her like she was a what-if moment and were impressed by her, but you knew you’ll be seeing them on your office couch soon enough.

Hobie was practically best friends with her now. The late night sessions with Hobie were a rare occurrence these days. Like a stray, he found a new person to feed his interests.

Jess favored her the most. Reminded her of her younger days, and how impressive she was at that age—still is, as she’s been carrying a baby in her stomach while doing her missions flawlessly.

Miguel was indifferent. At least that’s how he acted. But as long as work was getting done, you were leveling up the relationship bar with him.

Out of everyone, Peter B was home to her. To see a familiar face amongst like-minded strangers had helped her settle in faster than you expected. Seeing them together made them look like family.

Because of the great reputation she had around the society, today you allowed Gwen to pull you away from the safety of your office straight to Miguel’s for what she called emotional support. There was something she wanted to ask him—a request. And she had the idea that your presence would soften him up somehow.

“Why do you think that?” When you asked, Gwen looked back at you with a knowing smile. Her hand still latched onto your wrist like a snake squeezing its prey. She guided you through the cavernous hall of tech that led to Miguel’s office, the pathway seemed to grow darker the closer you got.

“I see how you two look at each other during meetings.” She said effortlessly like it was a fact. You let out a cough like you choked on air, already shaking your head to her conclusion.

“You know he’s always leading them—what? Do you expect me to look at the ceiling or something?” Gwen laughed at this, but it didn’t look like she was convinced.

Walking in, you had expected Miguel’s office to be darker than the hall leading towards it, but it was instead imbued with a ruddy tint, and streaks of sliver threads surrounded the area Miguel was standing in. He was in the middle of briefing a few Spider-Men for a mission on Gaia-3000. Miguel always made sure to remind his agents of the canon events before going on a mission to prevent the loss of the universe. It was more important than the mission itself.

The briefing didn’t last long as Miguel noticed you enter with Gwen. His gaze could’ve riveted you to the floor, the look on his face was neither soft nor austere—perhaps aloof would best describe how he looked at you. Yet you wanted to believe there was something behind those eyes of his because not once did they leave you since you entered. 

It was until the Spider-Men walked into their portals that Miguel’s attention moved to the floating projections. The silver webs of fate orbited around him as if he were a sun. He would’ve looked occupied if it weren’t for his eyes moving between you and the projections.

“Doc.” He greeted you once you were in front of him, looking down at you through the hologram of a canon event that floated in between you two. There was a moment—just a moment where his eyes looked soft… but it could’ve been the trick of the hologram.

“Miguel.” You had to suck your lips in to stop yourself from smiling. You hated to admit it, but you were happy to speak to him after so long. Staying away from him was a selfish decision, one that you regretted now that you stood in front of him. 

Your heart thumped in bliss, the warmth from that night revisiting you like an old friend. How inane of you to think that distance would’ve settled this emotion. It was already being stitched onto your soul from the moment this agreement started—the very needle sunken in when his hand stretched out of that portal into your apartment many months ago. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

You fell for him. Regardless of whether he felt the same or not.

“Uh, I’m here too…” Gwen had a slight smile on her face, bending forward with a small wave to Miguel.

“Gwen,” you could tell Miguel forced a smile, fangs appearing while none of the light reached his eyes. It lasted a moment before it dropped to his usual scowl. Miguel then turned around to face his floating platform that started its slow descent to the ground. “I’m sure you already had a tour of the place unless you’re just here to say hello.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something!”

“If a universe isn’t collapsing, or an anomaly hasn’t appeared, then Jess can handle it.”

“But it’s important! I just figure it would make our jobs easier. You know, making sure the universes are in order?”

The rumble of the descending platform had filled in for Miguel’s silence. He peeked behind his shoulder, his eyes looking past Gwen’s and into yours before they lowered to the ground. He then folded his arms against his chest, sighing. “I’m listening.”

Gwen immediately beamed, light filling her eyes. “Okay!” You could tell her entire energy ignited. Her arms flailed with every word that left her lips. She was animated—excited, glowing like a sun rising from the horizon, its rays brighter as the seconds go by. If anyone were to watch her, they too would feel elated by her presence alone. 

But as the sun rises in one part of the world, it sets in the other. Her idea was nothing but grave to you, the dread in your face impossible to hide as she spoke with an open mind—naivety in her words. You couldn’t blame her because it’s possible no one told her yet, not Jess and surprisingly not Peter B. If she had told you of her idea prior, you wouldn’t have come here to support her. Just the thought of her idea could be considered mutiny to the entire cause… to Miguel.

You cast your eyes down, afraid to even lift them towards Miguel. You didn’t have to. You could already feel it brewing, simmering like water on a stovetop. A part of you internally begged for Gwen to shut up, or wished the sound of the descending platform was loud enough to overtake her voice. Miguel wasn’t facing either of you but you could still feel a weight on top of your shoulders, drilling you into the floors, your limbs heavier than sacks of sand.

Gwen went on and on until she was rambling, probably because she was excited or nervous. You couldn’t exactly tell. It was until the platform finally reached the ground that Gwen ended her request with a “pretty please” and a large smile on her face.

That smile didn’t last long.

“No,” Miguel spoke softly.

“Wha…” she faltered, physically her shoulders dropped. “What? Wait—why? I mean—he would be such a great asset to our group and—Probably one of the best Spider-mans I’ve met. The things he can do— He’s amazing , Miguel.”

“I said, no.” And it was final. Gwen knew that but she still pushed, making her argument, excuses, anything. Miguel silenced her with a heavy sigh, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. You expected anger when he turned to face her but no, there was nothing but sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for what he had to reveal to her. He towered over her and with a heavy hand on her shoulder, said:

“That Miles Morales… was never supposed to be a Spider-Man. He’s not one of us. He’s an anomaly , Gwen, the original anomaly.”

At those words, it was like a string was pulled, released and an arrow soared and struck her chest. Gwen was trying to make sense of it all but nothing made sense no matter how long she thought about it.

Miguel continued regardless. With the command of his hands, the projections swirled around you three, depicting the moment when Spider-42 fell into Earth-1610, bit the wrong Miles Morales and in turn, the Spider-man from his universe died. Your real comrade.

Gwen didn’t want to believe it. Shaking her head as she stared at each projection. The truth floated around her. Thoughts ran a mile a minute. It would’ve been better if Peter B. told her instead of Miguel. Maybe if she heard it from a trusted friend, it would’ve been easier to believe. But Gwen knew there was no reason for Miguel to lie about this. What motive could Miguel have to not let Miles join the Spider Society?

“Miles Morales-1610 as Spider-man was a mistake.” His words to her were the final nail to a coffin. With the skidding sound coming from her shoes, she turned around and bolted out of Miguel’s office.

“Gwen!” You were about to chase after her until Miguel’s voice cut through the air.

“You think I’m done here?”

You physically jumped at how loud he sounded like thunder had rolled and rumbled the floor under your feet. You turned towards him and immediately you regretted it. What was brewing before was most certainly his anger, saved solely for you while Gwen was spared because of her naivety. But you—you knew better than to associate yourself with the anomaly. If only Miguel could give you a chance to explain yourself.

“Miguel, I—”

He didn’t let you finish. His hand latched onto your wrist, pulling you deeper into his office and into a room beyond the shadows. It was more like a traditional office than the one outside with a desk, a bookcase, a soft couch and some cabinets. There was even a bed that Miguel probably slept in whenever he didn't want to return home. The sheets were ruffled so you could tell he often used it but never had enough time to make it because he was usually always on the go.

However, it was the last thing on your mind when you had a fuming Miguel in front of you. He didn’t even wait for the door to close before he grabbed you a little too rough by the shoulders, shaking you lightly. Red eyes lasered down on you.

Undoubtedly, you knew he was angry, but there was something else in there.

“What were you thinking? You know what Miles-1610 is to us, Doc! You know what an anomaly could do to a universe and you still supported her idea? Did you really think that was okay? Letting an anomaly join and ruin everything —!”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know that’s what she wanted to ask! All she told me was that it would support the society and she needed me here for emotional support! If I knew it was about the anomaly, I wouldn’t have come here!”

You yelled back louder. Miguel’s talon-less fingers buried themselves in your upper arms, squeezing them. His eyes were wide, shaky red irises searching within your own for any hint of honesty. The grip on you wasn’t as firm as it looked. Like a crane holding a prize, the slightest nudge would’ve shaken his hands off. Despite how he looked, Miguel made sure he wasn’t hurting you.

“This is exactly why I told Jess I didn’t want her to join! She’s—She’s too close with the anomaly. She can jeopardize our entire cause all because of him !” He froze after, an idea appearing in his head. He wasn’t thinking rationally anymore. He released you, turning around like he wanted to leave. “She has to go home.”

“Wait! You can’t—Let’s think about this, Miguel.”

He was quick to face you again, his hands returning to your upper arms. He bent forward until his face was at your level. “I can’t have her risk all that I built—that we built.”

There it was. It wasn’t just anger he was feeling. The signs were all there; His trembling breath, the sweat that made his forehead glossy, the weakness in his hold. 

Miguel was panicking.

It was fear that buried itself within his fury from the moment Gwen had asked for Miles-1610’s recruitment and when he thought you supported her idea. It was like he saw it again. His daughter disappearing in his arms, the weight of her so heavy… until he felt nothing—until nothing around him existed except for what remained of the universe: white light and empty space. He had the blood of that universe on his hands and no matter how many times he tried to wash them away, it was now embedded in his soul. All that existed ended because he was the anomaly of that world disrupting the canon events. 

Months after months of research couldn’t bring him the exact reason for that universe ending, but he was sure of one thing. If everything went how it was planned, nothing like that would happen ever again.

And that’s why it was his job to put things back to how it was. It was the only thing he could do to atone.

So yes, Miguel was reliving his trauma yet again.

And it was your job to relieve him of it.

“That doesn’t mean we should make rash decisions,” you told him, gently. “She’s one of our best and letting her go would slow down our efforts. You and I both know that.”

Miguel’s energy was being sapped out of him, visibly his shoulders dropped and those red eyes were no longer on you as he hung his head low. He released you and retreated to sit on his bed. For a moment, he looked like a toy that ran out of batteries, burying his face in his hands before he ran them through his curly locks.

It was so different seeing him like this—like he was moping. You followed him and stood between his legs.

“Besides, Gwen's a smart girl. She wouldn’t do anything that would put the universes at risk.” He didn’t respond or even look at you. It made you run a hand against his cheek as your thumb brushed under his eye. “When’s the last time you slept? You look tired.”

“I don’t have time to be tired. Not when there’s a Galaxy-size mess I have to clean up. With every anomaly we restore, 10,000 more just take its place. It’s never-ending, Doc. I’m like a janitor mopping up a shoreline.” 

“We all took an oath. A spider-person’s job never ends. Which is why we need to rest as much as we can to fight another day.”

“I didn’t ask for this, Doc.” He sighed, leaning his head against your hand until his cheek pushed up against it. “And I won’t be able to sleep.”

“None of us did…” you lightly smiled, “And I’ll help you.”

You pulled your hand away from his cheek, but you didn’t miss when he leaned more against it for his lips to press into your palm. The brief feel of them jolted something within you like a warm shiver struck your lower stomach. Gosh, it made you curious—too curious about how they would feel against other parts of your body.

And you didn’t miss those eyes that looked up at you, red like cherries, sweet like them too. It was hard to turn away, somewhat thankful you managed to because you didn’t want to be under their spell. You still felt the heat of them on you even as you approached his bookcase. Your palm still tingling from the feel of his lips as you pulled a book off one of the shelves. You returned to him grinning.

He was disappointed when he glanced at your book choice in your hand. “Charlotte’s web? Am I a kid to you?”

“No, but… you act like one sometimes. Lay down for me.”

You pushed against his shoulder leaving him no choice but to oblige. What he didn’t expect was you to climb in after him, settling on your side next to him while you opened the book to page one and started to read. 

Miguel still couldn’t sleep. His eyes remained open, watching the top of your head as you read. A lovely smile on your face as you tried (and failed) to give each character their own distinctive voice. When you weren’t busy turning the page, the hand that he kissed was together with his, fingers interlocked. You were so used to holding his hand by now that you thought nothing of it and ignored the warmth that spread throughout your body because of it.

“Are you finally resuming our sessions?” Miguel interrupted you, pulling your eyes away from the book and into his own.

“Only if you need it.”

You knew Miguel would never admit he needed it, especially how adamant he was about them in the beginning.

“I need it.”

Oh.

“I definitely need it.”

“Then… I’ll put you back on my calendar.”

“ Muy Bien. ”

His sonorous whisper had heat searing your cheeks, not to mention, that smile that flashed your way made his fangs look bigger—so mischievous it had you biting your lip. Immediately after, Miguel’s mask materialized around his head. Much to your disappointment.

“Do you really need your mask on while you sleep?” You asked.

“You never know when the job needs you. Have to always be on the ready.”

“Words from a true workaholic… you said you wanted a family but how exactly were you going to make time for them when you’re working all these hours?”

“Oh, I always made time for mi hija . Always went to her soccer practice. Always was there to read her a bedtime story. Take her clothes shopping. I was made to be a dad but… it just isn’t in my fate to be one.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard his pain. You squeezed his hand, regretful.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no, no—It’s okay… It’s a valid question.”

Not knowing what else to say, you continued to read. Seconds, minutes, time ticked away. Miguel’s hand was still tight in yours, but his voice came out heavy whenever he commented about the book. His head was against the pillows, turned in your direction. 

Your voice must’ve been soothing him because his hand would grow weak in yours and then he would suddenly squeeze it, throwing a random comment out about the main character, Wilbur, and then trying to convince you he didn’t fall asleep. Sometimes the heat where your hands came together would make him doze off and the coolness that grew when they were briefly apart would stir him awake.

“Maybe we should’ve recruited Charlotte. She really saved that pig’s ass,” he mumbled, looking like he had sunk deeper into his bed, the pillows swallowed his head.

“Yeah, she dedicated her life to saving him. All the way to the very end. She never gave up, spending hours weaving her web, trying to convince the humans no matter how tough it got. I’m sure she may have felt like she was… mopping up a shoreline too but her actions paid off in the end… the difference is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You have us—all of us to rely on, to help shoulder the burden. Please don’t forget that—that we’re here for you.”

You expected something, anything from him, but you received nothing but silence. “Miguel…? Oh…” it was then you noticed his hand was weak in yours and when you pulled your hand away, he stayed asleep.

Finally. You couldn’t help but smile, softly closing the book before sitting up.

You watched his chest rise and fall as he lay supine against his bed. You should’ve left his office but you stayed there watching him sleep, taking in the rare sight of Miguel completely defenseless. You wished you could’ve seen his face. It would’ve been the topping on the cake.

Your fingers brushed against his arm, suddenly craving the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer, but you wondered if Miguel felt anything for you. You knew how lonely men acted. As long as the body was warm and could keep them company, it didn’t matter to them.

Some part of you wondered if you were just as lonely as Miguel—that these feelings were just because you craved for someone. Maybe it was even the reason why you sprung up this agreement in the first place. After your divorce, you became married to your work, the only thing that mattered was your patients as a therapist and the people you saved as a superhero. You abandoned yourself, shutting yourself off from the world within your white-walled apartment. It was why you looked up to Miguel as much as you did because he was the one who pulled you out of your darkness. So you were hoping you could do the same thing for him.

But you knew your heart beat too strongly for it to be just feelings of loneliness. It longed for him even when you were this close to him, wanting to be surrounded by the warmth that emanated from him, wanting to be touched, kissed, and held only by the man who saved you, your guiding light while you were lost at sea.

Your hand moved to caress his cheek, feeling the fibers of his mask under your fingertips. You were leaning closer to him, unable to resist like a moth to a flame. God, you were completely enamored by him. Looks like he didn’t need to look at you to be under his spell.

For the first time, you didn’t think about the consequences. For the first time, you were mindless.

You pressed your lips against his lips, closing your eyes. It was softer than you expected; light, feathery and warm. Too warm . It was brief but it was enough to light a flame within you that burned when you pulled away. Your breath shuddered as you inhaled, the warmth lasting only a second.

Your eyes opened, but you found yourself stilling. Miguel’s eyes were still closed, though half of his mask was dematerialized to the tip of his nose. His lips were out, free from the fibers.

Your mouth hung open. Miguel had removed half of his mask when kissed him and you hadn't a clue if he was asleep all this time or not.

The remainder of his mask dematerialized and you were face to face with those eyes of his. Your heart skipped a beat, knocking the air from your lungs as your palms grew sweaty. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You felt so much pressure under his gaze, his face not quite readable. You flicked your wrist towards the ceiling and a web shot out, preparing yourself to run away until a glowing red web wrapped around your wrist and riveted you in place.

“Not this time, Doc.”

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

Tag List:

@oikawa-bubs @brittney69 @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @allysunny @smarty0029 @96jnie @deepinballs @lovecandyuwu @remuslupinwifee

[dearweirdme]

You know what I don't understand in all of this is the contradictory behaviour. Let me put it simply.

Why does Taehyung need this kind of PR to drive engagement when he is successful without this kind of buzz? Before you say why not? There is a difference between Kpop and western artists. For short term this may work wonders but the way people look at BTS is so different than how they look upto other artists. Is it worth it to lose your credibility/trust for short term engagement? Has other members not successful enough without all this?

Second, assuming he is a queer and wants to hide rumour about that. So staging a straight relationship cool. Then why does he drop so many hints about LGBTQ comm. I am not saying he has no right to share and show how he feels but I am wondering if he and company thinks his gay rumours are getting out of hand (though I didn't hear anything) then it's better to tone down then to take this kind of step.

Someone said this way he and Jungkook would be able to roam freely. I sometimes feels would it be alright to humiliate people who supported them from so many years because you believe it or not taekookers are going to get bashed more after these rumours. I mean it's okay people have choice to leave or to stay but there would come a time when taekook might need support to come out if ever. That would be a huge hurdle if this kind of nonsense prevails.

I don't know if I am able to explain my issue. I am attached to BTS not because they are great singer and stuff. Objectively, there are artists who sing better. Beyond artistry BTS has connection with their fans because they resonate with people. There is that one particular quality every member has that people connect with. In case of Taehyung, at least for me, is his doing what comes from heart and his principles. This pr trust is against everything which connects me from him. I still love his songs, i'll still hype him but I am not sure if I'll ever be able to connect with him.

It's okay when he is solo but with BTS as a group this might make him a black sheep. No being in a relationship is not the problem. Problem is how this situation is being handled. It's like if it's real relationship damn he really let people to drag his gf and if it's not well he had to resort to such activities.

This maybe for Western market but we shouldn't forget he still resides in Korea. Korean people and armys are going to be priority when it comes to consensus. This norm in west may not percolate so well in Korea.

Hi anon!

I'm going to cut your ask in pieces a bit to respond properly.

Why does Taehyung need this kind of PR to drive engagement when he is successful without this kind of buzz? Before you say why not? There is a difference between Kpop and western artists. For short term this may work wonders but the way people look at BTS is so different than how they look upto other artists. Is it worth it to lose your credibility/trust for short term engagement? Has other members not successful enough without all this?

This era is new territory isn't it. The way I see it, other members don't have a highly rumored in-band-relationship, accept for Jimin... but he was very much paired with Yoongi and J-hope. I know people hate to read this, but that too was part of promo. Not that their bonds aren't real, but it was also used for promo. I suspect by the time Tae and Jk's album release it is possible that Jimin will either have left for enlistment, or he'll be about to, and therefore he will not be there to do much promo support for Tae and Jk. Which leaves Tae and Jk, but we all know what speculations will arise from that. Having a short term solution (which I do thing is what we are looking at from now on) like Taennie, will ensure less queer speculations, but will also put Tae in the spotlight.

I know Tae is already huge and I can understand why people think he doesn't need the promo. But what if his wish is to get even bigger? What if it's his wish to be big everywhere? Is that too gready? No, he's an artist.. he wants to share his art widely. There is an apparent difference between Kpop and western artists, but isn't it possible that the gap is tightening? That Kpop (especially BTS and BlackPink) are crossing the line? Haven't they already done things that aren't traditionally Kpop? Is it a bad thing? Breaking traditions or perceived boundaries is always at first looked upon as 'weird', "unlikely', 'bad', 'untrustworthy', but without breaking those boundaries society would stand still and that is never a good thing. Tae doing something new is a credit to him wanting to break through some stuff he feels is outdated. This goes for if Taennie is true as well as if it's not true.

Why would Tae lose credibility you think? I think most, especially in SK, will believe Taennie is real. So they won't think he's lying. Those who think it's fake probably understand why things have taken this turn. Pr-stunts are meant to look believable, so even though I speak of it the way I do, that is not how media and the greater public will speak of it.

It will be short lived, because Tae will leave for enlistment next year probably. When he returns this will all have blown over.

Someone said this way he and Jungkook would be able to roam freely. I sometimes feels would it be alright to humiliate people who supported them from so many years because you believe it or not taekookers are going to get bashed more after these rumours. I mean it's okay people have choice to leave or to stay but there would come a time when taekook might need support to come out if ever. That would be a huge hurdle if this kind of nonsense prevails.

Who is humiliating who? I don't feel humiliated. It is not Tae's intention to make us believe in Taekook. I do because I pick up on subtleties, not because they are being so obvious about it. The way I see it is Tae is making decisions for himself, and by extension Jk maybe. I trust him. I feel things will settle down soon and people will get to understand more of what's happening. This new turn is only fresh right now, so we aren't exactlly capable of seeing how things are going to be fandomwise. People who say they are leaving might be be back again next week.

I don't know if I am able to explain my issue. I am attached to BTS not because they are great singer and stuff. Objectively, there are artists who sing better. Beyond artistry BTS has connection with their fans because they resonate with people. There is that one particular quality every member has that people connect with. In case of Taehyung, at least for me, is his doing what comes from heart and his principles. This pr trust is against everything which connects me from him. I still love his songs, i'll still hype him but I am not sure if I'll ever be able to connect with him.

Your feelings about this are your own, and you have a right to them. I can understand why Tae doing something new might make you feel disconnected. But keep in mind, that no matter what... an artist/person always has the right to do what he feels best. Even if that goes against what his fandom expect of him. It is just as much your right to leave him because you no longer feel connected.

It's okay when he is solo but with BTS as a group this might make him a black sheep. No being in a relationship is not the problem. Problem is how this situation is being handled. It's like if it's real relationship damn he really let people to drag his gf and if it's not well he had to resort to such activities.

I agree that the situation is being handled poorly. I strongly believe that if Taennie were real he wouldn't have let people drag Jennie through the mud and back. Tae speaks up about things. Imo he would've said something.

This maybe for Western market but we shouldn't forget he still resides in Korea. Korean people and armys are going to be priority when it comes to consensus. This norm in west may not percolate so well in Korea.

The whole issue is, that Tae possibly being queer does already not percolate well in Korea. It's a very difficult thing for anyone to be queer in Korea, let alone what it means to be a queer Idol. I think what people need to realise (aside from this being about Tae) is that when someone is queer but also closeted, that person would still have the urge to show who they are, what they like, what they are proud of. This absolutely goes for artists, who in general are prone to share themselves through their art. Bein queer in South Korea means you cannot do that. So if this Taennie situation is not only for promo, but also a cover for him being possibly queer... it will allow him some freedoms. And can we really expect someone to adhere to their closet jst because it doesn't percolate well in Korea?

It is complicated matter. And we could probably write a book about it... I think I might be half way by now even ;)

[hiddcnhorizcns]

as eira squeezed his hand and bid him goodnight, tristan stood there, momentarily frozen like a statue—albeit one that was internally panicking. "until morning," he managed to reply, hoping his voice didn't crack like a teenager's. he released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. well, that was perfectly awkward. he turned on his heel, mentally kicking himself. great job, tristan. just stand there gawking like a fish. the moonlit path back to his quarters seemed longer tonight, or perhaps his legs had simply forgotten how to function properly. either way, he was fairly certain he'd just made a fool of himself in front of the future queen. again. "be her compass," he muttered under his breath, dodging a low-hanging branch that appeared out of nowhere. "sure, why not? i'll just navigate the treacherous waters of royal politics while simultaneously ignoring the fact that i'm hopelessly…" he stopped himself before the 'in love' part slipped out, even in solitude. a stray cat crossed his path, giving him a judgmental stare. "don't look at me like that," tristan grumbled. "you've probably got less complicated relationships." the cat meowed in what he imagined was agreement before scampering off—probably to a secret feline conference where they'd discuss his ineptitude.

he continued walking, trying to shake off the evening's events. maybe i should take up a hobby, he mused. something less stressful than guarding a princess who's completely oblivious to the emotional havoc she wreaks. knitting sounded peaceful. until he pictured himself tangled in yarn, which, knowing his luck, was a likely scenario. entering his modest quarters, he lit a candle and sat on the edge of his bed. the room was sparsely furnished—a stark contrast to the opulence of the castle—but at least the furniture didn't judge him. except maybe the wobbly chair in the corner that seemed to leer whenever he stubbed his toe on it. He kicked off his uniform, and lay back, staring at the ceiling. "be her compass," he repeated, this time with a sigh. "no pressure there. just guide the future queen through her existential crisis while navigating my own feelings. easy as pie." his stomach growled loudly. "speaking of pie, perhaps skipping dinner was a mistake." tristan considered sneaking down to the kitchens but decided against it. the last thing he needed was to explain to the cook why he was pilfering pastries in the middle of the night. besides, the cook had a way of brandishing a rolling pin that was mildly terrifying.

he closed his eyes, attempting to will himself to sleep. sheep counting was a thing people did, right? one sheep, two sheep, three—wait, that one looked like eira. fantastic. now he was hallucinating ovine versions of the princess. rolling over, he buried his face in the pillow. "get a grip, man," he mumbled, his voice muffled. "tomorrow is a new day. a chance to be the unwavering, stoic guard she needs."

the sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, casting a rosy hue across the morning sky. tristan stood in the center of the training grounds, shirt tossed carelessly over a wooden post. the crisp air nipped at his bare torso, but the chill did little to cool the heat of his restless energy. sweat glistened on his skin as he swung his sword with relentless vigor, each movement sharp and precise. "is that all you've got?" he barked at the line of fresh-faced recruits before him. they exchanged nervous glances, clearly unprepared for the intensity of their early morning instructor who seemed more like a drill sergeant on a mission than the laid-back knight commander they'd heard about. one particularly brave—or perhaps foolish—young man stepped forward, raising his training sword. "sir, we've been at this for hours. maybe a short break?" tristan arched an eyebrow. "a break? do you think your enemies will grant you a respite because you're feeling winded?" he lunged forward without warning, executing a series of attacks that sent the recruit scrambling backward, tripping over his own feet and landing unceremoniously in the dirt. "lesson one," tristan said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "always be prepared."

the other recruits stifled snickers as the fallen lad scrambled to his feet, cheeks flushed more from embarrassment than exertion. tristan knew he was being harder on them than necessary, but channeling his swirling thoughts into physical exertion was the only way he could keep his mind from wandering back to… well, her. "alright, who's next?" he challenged, spinning his sword with a flourish. the recruits suddenly found great interest in their boots, the sky, a particularly fascinating patch of grass—anywhere but meeting his gaze. "come now, don't be shy," he goaded. "surely one of you wishes to test your mettle?"

one simple statement brought her back to reality. her unfortunate, unfair, chosen for her reality. her head bowed in a show of thanks and the pair were off, walking side by side once more, but things now felt different. there was a heaviness in the air that wasn't there before, and guiltily she felt like it was her fault it had arised at all. how could she be so careless as to kiss his hand? if anyone had seen … if they had alerted the king … eira might have been able to come across the situation unscathed but she didn't feel as if tristan would have that same luck. despite her feelings, she had to remember that her actions affected so much more than just herself. she had a kingdom to look after; people. as if her mind wasn't already clouded with enough responsibility.

all too soon they were facing the doors of the castle and she stopped in her tracks. "i hope that my judgement wasn't wrong in trusting you." her tone was teasing as she gave him a small smile before breathing out a sigh. "funny how this is my home now, isn't it?" despite still being unmarried, the king thought it best she lived in the castle to better acclimate herself before the wedding. her gaze met tristan's and she bowed. "goodnight, good night." despite chastising herself during the walk over, she reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. "until morning." now that he was back in her life, there was no way she'd go a single day without seeing him.

[absolutepokemontrash]

I come bearing a request! The Brothers with an MC who's really good at cooking and baking? Like, the stuff food blogs dream of. Master-level instagram pastries. Could compete with the chocolate guy if they put their mind to it.

👀 ooooo, I do love me some pastries-

(I know you have an *ahem* distaste for Lucifer, dear moot, so enjoy Lucifer acting like a bit of a dingus in his section!)

Lucifer

Oh, the human can cook. *insert asshole eyeroll here*. Great. Wonderful. Groundbreaking. That’s what’s got all his brothers acting like- what was that word Levi used? Simps? This human has turned six of the seven rulers of hell into a bunch of simps.

Sure, the human has near godlike cooking prowess. Sure, everyone looks forward to their day for cooking. And sure, everyone thinks the human’s pretty great.

Tsk, not him though. He’s a refined demon. Some silly food isn’t going to make him a lovesick fool… did he smell eclairs..?

Lucifer peered into the kitchen to see MC carefully taking a tray of eclairs out of the oven and letting them cool off on the counter. His favourite dessert… right there in front of him…

Due to not being a total moron, MC notices Lucifer and asks him what the hell he’s doing just standing ominously in the doorway. Lucifer makes up some bullshit excuse about reminding MC to do their homework and just leaves. Okay, game plan, he needs those fucking eclairs or he will spontaneously combust.

As he snuck into the kitchen that night, Lucifer took a moment to briefly wonder why he was creeping around his own house. He was the Avatar of Pride for pity’s sake! He could eat whatever he damn well pleased! Oh shit was someone coming- no? Okay, back to sneaking.

Lucifer crept into the kitchen, saw the eclairs, and all logic was thrown out the window. Time to eat!

“BEEL NO! NOT THE- Lucifer..?” “…” “…” “…you’re very talented, MC, do you mind making more of these?”

SOMEONE SNAP A PICTURE! THIS IS THE CLOSEST LUCIFER HAS GOTTEN TO BEGGING IN THE LAST THOUSAND YEARS!

Mammon

Ugh, stuck babysittin’ some dumb human, how lame…

As Mammon was throwing a “I’m broke and I’m stuck in a pact with a dumb human” pity party, the most heavenly smell entered his nostrils. Cooking… good cooking… was Barbatos visiting or somethin’? Nah, Lucifer woulda made a big fuss about gettin’ ready for Lord Diavolo. Huh, so what was goin’ on in the kitchen?

Huh? The human? The human can cook? Well damn, maybe this whole deal wouldn’t be so bad. Oi! MC! As payment for babysittin’ ‘em, he got to have an extra big share of- OW!

Did- did the human just hit him with a spoon?! Th-they can’t do that!

Apparently they fucking can. Mammon gets told to sit the fuck down and wait for the food like everyone else. He grumbles on the way to the dining room, but he can’t fully hide his excitement to try the food.

The food even looked pretty! How did they do that?! Magic. It had to be!

After everyone’s tastebuds were blessed with the heavenly substance that is MC’s culinary exploits, Mammon decides he needs to get on this human’s good side in order to receive more food! Maybe even find some way to make a profit or somethin’!

After weeks go by of trying to suck up to the human without looking like too much of a chump, Mammon eventually realizes… hey, this human ain’t so bad. They’re nice, they make him feel good about himself, they give him headpats… he’s really hit the jackpot here!

He’ll offer to help MC bake or cook, but beware, he will try and sample the food before it’s done. Don’t let him lick the spoon!!!

Leviathan

First thought? This human ain’t shit. Thought after seeing their food? WOAAAAAAAH! JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME-

He was unceremoniously cut off by Beel asking demanding seconds. Humph, fine, he doesn’t actually care about this dumb normie food anyway.

…well at least until Levi saw a little something something on TV that he just had to ask MC to try and make. He shyly knocked on their door and when they answered, Levi shoved the screenshot in their face and stuttered out a dinner request.

On the day MC was supposed to make dinner, Levi poked his head into the kitchen and tried to make it look like he was just standing in the same room as MC and not checking to see if they were making his dinner request.

Not that he’d blame them for not doing that… who’d wanna make some anime dinner for a yucky Otaku- OMG JAHSHSHABA THEY’RE MAKING IT! *fangirl squeals*

As Levi continues to commit the SIN of being in the kitchen at the same time as someone else, MC eventually just asks him if he’d like to help out.

“Here! Just keep turning the takoyaki.” “R-really? You trust me?” “Yes, Levi. You watched how they made it on your show, right?” “Yes! I won’t mess up! I swear on my honour as an otaku!”

All in all, it was a very cute bonding experience for the two. Now it’s a regular thing. Levi requests something for dinner or dessert, MC makes it, Levi helps out.

Satan

So, the human can cook. That’s nice. At least someone in this literally god forsaken house can.

He makes sure to thank MC every time they cook, then he makes sure to thank whatever deity is watching over him that Solomon wasn’t the human staying with them.

As the months progress, Satan realizes, he should learn how to cook better. I mean, Levi and Mammon were somehow both improving in their cooking endeavours, and if MC could teach those two, then he would be a breeze.

Satan walked into the kitchen and simply asked if MC needed any assistance with what they were doing. MC just slid him some garlic to dice and that’s how this mentor/student relationship was formed.

Satan was a star pupil, but Mammon and Levi weren’t above trying to sabotage Satan’s progress to get him to leave.

Here’s the thing, the sabotage worked, but it only worked once, and the two idiots didn’t stop to think that maybe they shouldn’t sabotage the meal they were going to have to eat later.

Well, cooking lessons continued uninterrupted after the ghost pepper incident…

Even when he’s ‘graduated’ their little cooking class, Satan’s always willing to lend a hand if needed. He also will slyly hand over some recipe books and cute baking supplies that he finds. MC should be prepared for lots of cat related things to come their way.

Asmodeus

The human can cook? Oh frabcious day! He’s saved from a life of his brother’s mediocre cooking! And the human’s so cute too! What a bonus!

Not only is the human cute, but their food is just so… aesthetic??? Pretty???? Omigosh he just has to get a picture for Devilgram!

For the first few months, MC’s relationship with Asmo consists of Asmo not at all subtly asking to take pictures of their food and post it to his Devilgram. Listen MC, his followers would just love it!

Being the saint-sheep they are, MC lets Asmo sit in whenever they’re making anything in the kitchen. And Asmo slowly realizes “hey, this cute human with the awesome food is actually pretty cool too!”

New Mission: Make the human fall madly in love with him so they’ll want to hang out more.

Whether the mission succeeds is up to MC of course. (I mean, I’m already smitten with him sooooooooo-)

MC offers Asmo a lot of the pastries they make, but the Avatar of Lust almost always declines. Listen honey, he’s on a diet- wait, don’t make that sad face! He’ll eat it! Look! It’s- it’s delicious…

Diet cheat day is now every day MC makes dessert. The feeling of bliss Asmo gets when he takes a bite out of anything MC makes is only second of the treats is second only to the joy he feels at seeing MC happy that he likes their food. It’s just so wholesome I can’t-

MC’s food Devilgram has almost surpassed Asmo in terms of followers and honestly- he isn’t even mad.

Beelzebub

Gasp! Lucifer finally got him the pet personal chef he’d always wanted! Thanks big bro! :D he’ll be sure not to eat this human!

On the first night MC was supposed to make dinner, Lucifer needed to hold Beel back from breaking into the kitchen to see what was causing that heavenly smell. It was, difficult… especially because Lucifer hadn’t slept in three days.

When they all sat down to eat, Beel practically inhaled everything and held up his half bitten plate for seconds.

We here at Stupid Headcanons incorporated recommend that MC have as many bodyguards as possible stationed around the kitchen at all times to ward off a hungry Beel. We don’t want him eating the ingredients and half-tempered chocolate.

A cinnamon roll through and through, he’ll eat everything MC gives him with a big ol’ smile on his cute little face. He’s not the best person to go to if MC wants advice or critique because the best thing Beel can usually muster is “it was really good.”

As Luke said in Lesson 5, Beel would make an awful food reporter. But we love him.

Similar to Levi, he’ll give meal requests on what to make for dinner. (At this rate, MC’s going to have to make some kind of list).

He kind of just waits by the door like a sad puppy whenever MC is making anything because he can’t get into the kitchen :(

Belphegor

The smell of freshly made chocolate chip cookies wafting through the house did reach the attic and it only fuelled his rage more. How dare the human win everyone over with cookies?!

After the attic incident, Belphie was won over with cookies.

Belphie just stands creepily in the kitchen doorway whenever MC is making anything and just makes shit really uncomfortable. Why’s he doing that, you may be wondering, well, he’s trying to calculate the energy needed to swipe the bowl of cookie dough and sprint to safety.

He never succeeds, mainly because once he gets to the bowl, MC already has the wooden spoon ready to smack him, so he just freezes mid-theft and slowly puts the bowl down.

“Oh my gosh, it says let the bread dough rest overnight? Let’s get a headstart and go to sleep now.” “Belphie what-” “I made a pillow Fort, come in. Let’s sleep.” “In the kitchen????”

How’d he make the pillow Fort without MC noticing? Years of experience. He’s trained in the art of- MC? What do you mean you can’t sleep right now and you need to get a head start on shaping fondant?

…he may have eaten the fondant while MC wasn’t looking… whoops… Beel may have rubbed off on him a little…

[peachyysugaa]

enhypen members on a café date ☕️♡ requested by anon

– heeseung

what kind of café he takes you to: his local favorite, it's on the cozier or quieter size, which gives him the privacy to spend quality time with you~

the menu: now serving your favorite coffees, teas, and sandwiches! from iced americanos to milk teas (bubbles/boba if you want) to paninis, this café has got all the regulars. what would you like to order? ♥

activities you do: while the two of you should probably go to a gaming café for this, you and heeseung always sit in a more private booth/area side-by-side and play multiplayer games on his switch. if you're not gaming, the two of you casually talk about your days while sipping your drinks, resting your head on his shoulder or working on your respective things, schoolwork maybe for you or producing for heeseung.

short blurb: "heeseung, you let me win." "no, you're just really good at this game, love." (˶◡‿◡) you just laugh and roll your eyes, pinching his cheeks before resting your head on his shoulder in the middle of your favorite booth, in your favorite café that was filled with precious memories.

rest of the members under the cut! <3

what kind of café he takes you to: either the most expensive café ever or the most aesthetic (which tends to be pretty expensive anyway), you already saw this coming because we all on that rich boy!jay agenda.

what kind of café he takes you to: either the most expensive café ever or the most aesthetic (which tends to be pretty expensive anyway), you already saw this coming because we all on that rich boy!jay agenda.

what kind of café he takes you to: either the most expensive café ever or the most aesthetic (which tends to be pretty expensive anyway), you already saw this coming because we all on that rich boy!jay agenda.

the menu: how do you even pronounce most of these drinks? ಠωಥ is that a caviar-flavored drink LOL say sike 🅱ls ‼ ahem, so order something familiar to you or let jay pick something for you (it might be expensive, but that's okay let him spoil you 🥺 you deserve it, king/queen/royalty)

activities you do: jay loves listening to your day, and you love listening to his. he often likes to tell you about new things he's learned, and you watch as his eyes brighten over these, loving every sparkle. with jay, i don't see him going to the same cafés all the time: he likes to explore, so the only thing that's consistent is the amount of quality time you two spend together.

short blurb: "jay..!" "hm? what's up? is something wrong with your drink?" "no, it's just...?" you take a second to think about your phrasing before you answer. "is there supposed to be gold foiling on this?" "oh yeah, it's on trend now, babe. i heard it tastes as expensive as it looks." "and as it costs?" 🤨 "don't worry about it, y/n. this is my treat for you since you've been working harder than usual these days." (۶ •̀ᴗ•́)۶

– jake

what kind of café he takes you to: a dog café, let's be honest he really wants to pet dogs and he would get along so well with them. it's the golden retriever energy 🤩

the menu: aside from dog treats to feed the puppers (not jake), re-energize with refreshing drinks from lemonade to peach tea! the dessert menu also looks enticing, honey brick toast and pancake art shaped like the many dogs that prance around the vicinity.

activities you do: pet and feed the dogs, of course, duh you're at a dog café 🐕 for some reason, they take after jake very well, so well that one is practically attached to the hip with him as he pets it, an australian shepherd. he asks you nicely to take pictures of him with it and you tell on him to layla.

short blurb: "y/n, y/n, look! this one loves me!" "i can see that, jake." "y/n, it's an austalian shepherd, do you think he knows i'm aussie too?" "maybe he does." "take my picture with it?" "oh, so proof for layla that you're cheating on her?" "NOOO LAYLA ㅠㅠ"

– sunghoon

what kind of café he takes you to: a modern chic café. it's got the industrial feel to it and perfectly matches his sophisticated vibes.

the menu: only coffees and plain teas! specializes more in hand brewing coffee and the like. also has some sandwiches or pastries for you to taste.

activities you do: with sunghoon, it's mostly talking. the way you two can talk about anything and everything really makes your relationship so comfortable. you two also watch videos and make side comments here and there together. don't forget to take each other's pictures and selfies together, there is no visual hole here and the setting is perfect, what are you waiting for? 📸

short blurb: "are you getting my good side?" "huh, but every side is your good side." "oh yea, you're right." you shake your head at his way of getting a backhanded compliment and simply snap the picture of him and his coffee. looking at it makes you smile, but he quickly pulls you into his side and holds up his phone. "now time to show off my beautiful s/o."

– sunoo

what kind of café he takes you to: a character café! whether it's kakao or line friends, you two are both there to enjoy the too-cute-to-eat types of food, taking many pictures before savoring it.

the menu: character-themed food and drinks! they're carefully planned out from the ingredients to the witty names, all to match the theme of the café. you order a full course meal with sunoo, sharing your entrees with each other and drinks, so you both have the chance to taste what you can!

activities you do: did you hear me? a full course meal 🗣‼️ you two are eating your weight's worth of food because (1) it's cute and (2) it's expensive! sunoo is a chatterbox, and i just know he scored you two a picture with either one of your favorite characters at a lower price. both of you also take part in any chants cheerfully~

short blurb: "you're as cute as all the characters here, y/nie!" "yah, we're both cuter than all of them, don't lie." "yes, you're right, we would be doing them a favor by taking a picture with one of them." "cheers to us then?" you ask holding your glass already. "cheers~" he replies and clinks yours with his. all of a sudden, your favorite character comes by with your plates of food. enamored, you ask if you and sunoo can take a picture with them, to which the servers agree happily as long as you pay accordingly. the two of you pose to your hearts' content with the cute character. after which, you think sunoo unintentionally charmed the servers to give him a lower price for the photo by signing it and letting them post it somewhere, which you can't help but think is so befitting of him.

– jungwon

what kind of café he takes you to: a cottage-style café or specifically, the sheep café in korea. the latter is actually located in hongdae and literally 2 sheep roam around! (search up thanks nature café) he would just want to touch their fluffy fur 🐑

the menu: very green, as in matcha and mint and pandan and the like. also has some cute garden-themed pastries/drinks like the good ol' throwback, dirt in a cup, (basically some crushed oreos with gummy worms), which jungwon is all over.

activities you do: when one goes to animal cafés, you pet the animals! so pet the sheep you two do, but very cautiously, of course. jungwon tries to ba with them, maybe even asks if they make clothing out of their wool.

short blurb: "do you make anything with their wool?" jungwon suddenly asks the worker nearby. "huh? oh yes, we actually do have some sweaters in store if you would like to see them." "yes please." "alright, one moment please." "wonie, will you actually buy one?" "i mean, yea, who else is able to say that they met the sheep their clothing came from?" it's overly priced, but he buys a scarf anyway and wraps it around the two of you despite it being summertime. "jungwon, it's hot in this!" (/Д`)

– niki

what kind of café he takes you to: manga café or a café with really cool latte art. riki would have fun either way, reading manga together or trying out latte art himself!

the menu: the manga café has all your regulars and even offer comfy snack foods like bungeoppang and ddeokboki! on the other hand, the latte art café really focuses on their art, thanks to the machine that prints out any design you want on top of it (which riki is amazed by).

activities you do: in a manga café, you would have a private room together and just chill and roll around in it. at the latte art café, he's having so much fun seeing all the characters and drawings are put on top, even when they're not his (he orders shin-chan or doraemon). they offer 3d latte art classes and the two of you take one!

short blurb: "y/n, your cat looks funny." "riki, it's deflating :(" "draw the face anyway." "how come yours is so nice?" "oh, i just frothed the milk myself." "what? riki, you are so cool~" he becomes bashful and makes use of his classes by buying the necessary materials to make you different 3d latte arts every day.

a/n: YAYY this was so cute thank you for your request again, anon! <3 i hope you liked it, especially the format hehe

[black-ajah-hq]

WoT S1E1 Retrospective Part 2

 Full Spoilers Below!!

go to previous, next

^ so THIS is where Rand's thought process about Aes Sedai came from lol!!! Rand is directly in the background and he is taking mental notes!

^ so funny how Tam’s and Bran’s opinions of Aes Sedai affect/foreshadow their children’s opinions down the line. Tam is wary, while Bran is accepting. Cool. 

^ I SHIP IT SO IRONICALLY.

^ That’s such a baby Rand thing of him to do. Thinking with his heart not his head 

^ This one little scene communicates so much about Moiraine and Lan’s relationship. 

^ Another moment of great characterization in this episode (for both Rand and Eggy). Egwene has to make a decision and we as the audience already know which one that she truly wants to make, and which one Rand wants her to make. The depth of their relationship makes this all the more dire. 

^ now Fain’s whistling theme wasn’t something I noticed upon my first watch but it’s such a nice detail in hindsight hehe

^ homage to Peter Jackson’s Fellowship! Feels very fitting considering the influence Tolkien’s works had on EotW

^ OH MY GOD THIS ACTOR. Amazing. Flawless. Perfect for the role. Also... now that I’m looking at this image...did they really color grade this shot to make his teeth look more yellow? The whites on the mountains look way more yellow as well which is why im suspicious. 

^ Yeaaa the mountains were definitely color graded. Anyways, what does that greeting have to say about YOU as a merchant, Fain, HUH?? 

^ “What do you have for me this year?” Damn, Mat. It’s been a whole year and all you could come up with was 1 bracelet which you stole the very night before?...Mat is king of procrastination

^ Meanwhile Rand is doing his typical thing...having an existential crisis on a mountaintop

^ I want to believe that after everything forthcoming, that Rand goes back to the Two Rivers and builds a house and raises sheep. (╥﹏╥) 

^ A lot of people cite this right here as Rand showing acceptance of Egwene’s decision to become the Wisdom’s apprentice, thus reducing the final act of this season. I disagree. I think he says this to her now for her sake, but doesn’t truly believe it for himself until the critical moment in the final episode. There’s a stark difference between simply saying that you “accept” her decision (and being upset about it deep down), and truly wanting her to live the life that she wants for herself. 

^ Zoe’s acting appreciation sidenote!!! This is sooooo very Nynaeve

^ So I doubt they actually turned the old wisdom away because she was a peasant. Literally Siuan showed up in a skiff with nothing but a small sack of belongings and rose to become Amyrlin. 

Nyn has the right to be mad, regardless. Hell, the old wisdom walked for months only to be turned away???  I’d be pissed and spread the nastiest rumors about those “witches” when I got back.

^ cozy sweater appreciation

^ Nooo not the sheep :( 

^ Awww i always love seeing how close friends Rand, Mat, and Perrin are. the OG ta’veren. ≧◡≦

Ending it here...

[raevenlywrites]

Ties That Bind 22 of ???

Of course the first person I encountered upon waking was Adelina.

Rei was long gone from the tent, if the chill of the bedroll was any indication. I’d expected to find him just outside the tent flap. Instead I was met by the long, lean body of Zane’s primary guard.

And lover.

My cheeks immediately flamed in spite of myself, knowing what she must think. My mouth worked uselessly as my mind offered no words to explain. I couldn’t exactly claim it wasn’t what it looked like, though Rei and I certainly hadn’t spent our time together in the way I knew a serpiente would assume.

But surprise followed surprise, as Adelina ushered me back into the tent with a conspiratorial air.

“We don’t have much time,” she whispered, nearly knocking me over in her rush to get us back under cover. “Our men will only keep each other busy for so long.”

“I-- what?”

I couldn’t begin to parse it. Adelina didn’t seem to mind my clueless state. She rushed on, eager to say her piece.

“I need to know how we’re meant to play this. Is Zane to be your lover or not?”

I could only blink.

“I know how the serpiente would read this, but I just want to be sure. You’ve taken his hand before you mother, you danced with him last night before the crowd. But when its just us, you’ve made no overtures. So I just want to know what role I—I mean he—is meant to play before you people. Are you two seriously planning to join our kingdoms?”

I stumbled to a seat, sitting before my wobbling legs made the choice for me. Did they really think--

“Danica, please. We don’t have much time.”

I felt like I was missing something, great swaths of something. I suddenly wished I’d stayed behind to walk and talk with them more as the serpiente had made their way here.

“I… honestly have no idea.”

It was the best I could give her. I felt this woman deserved the truth, but Zane and I hadn’t really discussed it. Mostly because I hadn’t thought either of us had taken the suggestion seriously. But looking back on all our conversations--

“What do you mean you have no idea?” Adelina snapped, but even without a serpent’s ability to read emotions I knew she wasn’t cross with me. The tense, pent up energy that so often drove me to pace was obvious in her posture, her tone, her entire being. I realized suddenly that if the serpiente could sense emotion anyways, there was no reason not to wear their hearts out on their sleeves. Or lack thereof, as was often the case.

I was getting side tracked. My mind was working furiously, but not in any useful direction. Adelina, like a dog among sheep, was not having it.

“Sweet Anhamirak, Danica are you listening to me? How will we be presenting Zane to your people?”

“I had wondered that myself.”

Adelina’s head whipped around as the man himself pulled back the flap of the tent. Rei scowled just over Zane’s shoulder. But amazingly, he didn’t pull the serpiente away from me to make sure I was unharmed. Adelina, at least, it seemed he trusted.

“Shall we have this conversation out in the open?”

The question was ostensibly for me, but his eyes remained locked with Adelina’s.

“You were never going to ask--” she began, tone pleading.

“I was biding my time,” her prince asserted. “Neither I nor Danica appreciate being rushed.”

“We’re at the bleeding gate!” she countered. “If not now, then when?”

“If we could maybe refrain from shouting?” Rei suggested. “And maybe come out of the tent? We’re making a scene.”

Zane nodded and backed up, holding the tent flap with a magnanimous sweep of his arm.

“Ladies.”

The last thing I wanted to do was face a mixed assemblage of curious serpiente and avians, but I didn’t think hiding in the bedroll with a blanket over my head was an option. I let Adelina help me to my feet, drawing the coolness of her hand into my demeanor. I hoped that maybe, some small of my reserve went to her as well. The shaken woman looked like she needed it.

The sun was well and truly risen, slanting sharply through the trees. It was mid, maybe late morning, but any sleepiness I might have felt was burned away by the singing of my nerves. Time to face the day.

Adelina, to my surprise, stayed on my far side, keeping myself between her and Zane. Rei fell into step on Zane’s other side, the four of us making the short walk to the main central fire and the breakfasts cooking there. Food suddenly sounded wonderful, and not just because it would present further delay. That was simply an added bonus.

Zane handed me down onto a log with as much grace and decorum as he would if it were a dining room chair. The absurdity of it made me smile, which I realized was the goal when he rewarded me with one of his own. I was learning to tell the difference between his pleasantly bland, haughtily mocking, and genuinely pleased smiled. I hoped I got to see the latter one more. It looked good on him, turning an inhumanly beautiful sculpture into something warm and soft and touchable.

And just like that I was blushing again, with merely the hint of thoughts of intimacy.

Zane laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound.

“And here I thought I was being on my best behavior. Courtly manners too forward for you, pretty Danica? You didn’t seem to mind my hands on yours last night.”

I scowled at the abrupt shift in his tone, the venomous suggestion I knew was meant to wound. Was he really mad at me for showing genuine emotion? Well, too bad. He was about to get even more.

“That’s petty, Zane. Don’t threaten my reputation just because you’re unhappy with something.”

Zane blinked, and Adelina laughed. She reached down and squeezed my shoulder, startling me, Zane, and Rei all. That only made her laugh harder.

“Well done, Dani. You’ll handle him just fine.”

“That’s Shardae, to you,” Rei bristled.

Zane opened his mouth, and whatever was going to come out of it was not going to be good. I gave a sharp pierce of a whistle, not thinking, just determined to cut this off before it got any worse.

“Alright! That’s enough.”

Adelina removed her hand, which I was surprised to find I missed, but it was time for me to take the reins while I could. I could invite her to be more informal with me later, if there was a later.

“Adelina brought up a valid point with me Zane; we need to sort out what kind of impression we intend to make.”

For a moment, Zane looked pained, almost like he would plead with me. But he straightened, put his feelings aside, and just like that, I was talking with the Arami of the serpiente, the man who would be king. Like Adelina’s hand, I missed seeing the genuine him, but appreciated his cooperation.

One ego down—and another immediately took its place. Rei fidgeted beside me, and without even making a sound, he was throwing just as much a fit as Zane had. I could ignore him—I should ignore him—but I’d had enough.

“Yes, Andreios?”

“Nothing, Shardae.”

“No, no. Speak your piece. You obviously disapprove of something.”

I watched him pull away from me, drawing his emotions deep inside--only to come rushing back in an even larger wave.

“I do. As your alastair, I take offense to serpents barging into your tent, and taking liberties with your person.”

My mouth dropped open, eyes as wide as the moon. I absolutely could not believe my ears. This was not my Rei. It was so utterly unlike him to be speaking of such personal things in front of company. Had one single evening of kissing really changed him so?

I was suddenly more glad than ever that I’d not let my mother bully me into an announcement last night. I had some reevaluating to do.

“The man I name as my alastair will have to be comfortable with the serpiente way of doing things. I don’t need a hoverhawk. I need a partner, who understands me.”

It pained me to have to speak so bluntly with others listening. I’d have much rather had this discussion in private—or better yet, not at all. This was not my Rei. Unfortunately, I did not have time to deal with him now. And if he really intended to be my alastair, he needed to understand that my people and this peace would have to come first.

Rei’s face went stony, then empty. This time, it was no retreating tide. It was a frozen glacier, his hurt feelings behind a wall of ice for good.

“Of course, Shardae. I don’t approve of it as a guard, either. But Adelina is hand picked by the Arami, and its not my place to question her.”

Just as my words were meant to subtly remind him that he was not yet my mate, his were intended to throw Zane and Adelina’s relationship in my face. It steeled me against pity I might have been feeling before. I had neither time nor patience for this.

“Quite right, Captain.”

I turned my back on him, and my own hurt, and gave all my attention to Zane.

“Please pardon our rudeness, Arami. Now, let’s discuss introducing you to my people.”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @theramwrites @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes @faithfire @thehellinsideyourhead @adventuresofacreesty

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

Playing Favorites (part 1)

...here we are not! Or are we?

Anyways, I’m on a ranting streak and I would like to present you with a verbose post about my favorite TS2 premades and why I love them.

It’s gonna be TOP 3! Or... more like TOP 5! No no no, still too few. TOP 10, maybe?

TOP 15 TS2 Premades (according to my personal tastes on 22. 04. 2021) (not in any particular order)

Erin Beaker (Strangetown)

Erin, the ray of sunshine in the Beaker clan. I headcanon her as a very smart but naive young woman who has just returned to Strangetown after graduating with a psychology degree from the La Fiesta Tech. In a fanfic I’m writing she joined Law Enforcement to put her “psychic powers” to use for “catching bad guys and protecting people” but she quickly becomes disenchanted with the actual police-work and starts her own little “adventure” to uncover the truth behind Strangetown’s most infamous mysterious deaths. In my current gameplay she’s in the Paranormal career.

The slow realization that all of her colleagues are scam artists and she might not have any powers either, almost destroyed her. But she didn’t give up. Yes, she may not have “powers” yet but that doesn’t mean she is not going to obtain them. And oh boy, she is. She builds ties with other residents, building her influence, collects skills and rare magical objects and travels a lot to understand and obtain mythical knowledge.

It’s not like she’s building a cult! It’s not how it looks, I swear! She’s way too nice to be a cult leader!

...she’s totally building a cult, although she doesn’t realize it yet.

I love Erin because she is a very flexible Sim. I find it very engaging to play a Sim that has such a different set of beliefs to mine. (Erin would be an anti-vaxxer and a user of essential oils and healing crystals, let’s accept the painful truth.) She also has a very interesting implied dynamics with her brother and with the rest of the Singles squad. She starts with a moderately low relationship with Chloe and it’s always interesting to see where it leads.

In conclusion: High intelligence, low wisdom queen.

Ripp Grunt (Strangetown)

There is something extremely relatable about Ripp. For me it’s the mystery of them growing up badly both toddler-to-child and child-to-teen, despite having been taught all toddler skills and their parents being still together and their mother still being alive. I read that as them struggling with depression since early childhood.

Maybe their parents’ relationship was already in a terrible shape when they were a small child and that’s the reason for their suffering? But Tank and Buck both grew up well under the same conditions which would indicate that there were more issues young Ripp was facing.

As you probably noticed, I headcanon Ripp as being too cool for the gender binary, using both he/him and they/them pronouns.

Anyway, there are many reasons to like Ripp. They stand up against their family’s xenophobia, violent nature and militarism. Having highest relationship with Buck out of the whole family, it is implied they’re a caring older sibling. Also, they’re framed as the underdog in the household, the trademark black sheep of the bunch who is never good enough, and are being actively mistreated by their emotionally distant macho father and physically abusive older brother.

Because of their amount of nice points and their rebellious nature (social conventions what?), I always play Ripp as polyamorous. They’re a Romance Sim, therefore they simply won’t be satisfied with just one partner in the long run but a wholesome consensual non-monogamy simply suits them better than the cheating bonanza Romance Sims often initiate, at least in my interpretation of the character. Let me just enjoy that and not think too much about the fact that since they grew up poorly two times, their life is probably going to be a relatively short one.

In conclusion: Have I mentioned that Romance is my second favorite aspiration?

Vidcund Curious (Strangetown)

Yes, him.

Vidcund is a very unpredictable Sim. He tends to cause a lot of trouble (3 nice points...) and generally sails through life being a jerk. But... A scientist? Unpopular? Cranky? Eccentric? That’s my kind of jerk.

You see, Vidcund’s not your average plant-loving conspirator, he has another side. He has a hidden Family token which makes him act a bit more Family Sim-ish. As a result of that, Vidcund tends to be a very attentive and protective father/uncle.

In my current gameplay, I gave him Family as a secondary aspiration to even strengthen this trait of his. It had mostly positive results but it did make him seem and act even more lonely.

I find Vidcund relatable even though I’m almost his exact opposite personality-wise. Maybe it is because I project my own autistic traits onto him? Maybe it is because he stands out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes (both fashion-wise and in behavior) and no matter what he does he always comes off a bit silly and somehow vulnerable?

I also love how if Strangetown is your main hood, if a Sim uses a telescope during the day anywhere in the game world, Vidcund makes the effort to travel there just to lecture them. It’s like a “Summon Vidcund” spell!

In conclusion: Playing Vidcund Curious is good for my soul.

Jill Smith (Strangetown)

In the shadow of her very popular brother, there is a little girl that will surely conquer the world someday.

Don’t worry, I love Johnny as much as the next person but my favorite member of the household is his little sister, Jill.

She has a vision. A very ironic one, given that she dreams about working with the sea creatures one day while living in the farthest possible place from the ocean but... if it’s ironic, it’s iconic.

Although she does have a token (Popularity) which makes her a bit more unique, there isn’t that much to the actual canonical portrayal, given that she is a small kid when you first play the Smiths and she has little going on for her aside of what is described in her bio. I mean, almost all kids act like they had a Popularity token anyway, the Grow Up aspiration is full of friend-making and socialization in general. But!

What she lacks in the Maxis character-building department, she makes up for in the sheer potential of what you could do with the character.

A human-passing half-alien hybrid who is, moreover, a member of the (in)famous scientist clan (...that what the Curious’ deserve to be)! She has the perfect balance of interesting and peaceful to be that Sim you can do anything with.

In my personal gameplay, she grew up to a teen and I chose Knowledge as her aspiration. She is friends with several stray animals, including the pack leader, so maybe there is a werewolf transformation in her future. She also rolled gay. She’s my laid-back lesbian disaster that knows more about the animal kingdom than pretty much anybody else in Strangetown, takes splendid care of her fish, hopelessly crushes on Lucy Burb and I love her to bits.

In conclusion: She deserves all the love and a career in Oceanography when she’s grown up.

Also, this post is getting massive even for my standards so I’ll cut it here and do the list in several parts.

[megalony]

Serendipity

This is a new Murderer! Ben Hardy series I am hoping to be working on which I have a lot of ideas for I hope you will all like it. Feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is trying to keep moving on with her life after her affair with Joe’s brother, Ben who is in and out of prison. But Ben won’t let her go so easily even after the torment he imposes on her. He wants to be in their sons life but things aren’t easy when everyone believes Harvey is Joe’s son, not Ben’s.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Did you miss me?"

He wasn't here, he couldn't be here. There was no way that he was standing here in front of (Y/n) like a ghost appearing in the dead of night to frighten her. She didn't want it to be him, (Y/n) didn't want it to be him staring at her like that because four months was nothing compared to what he had put her through these last four years. Four months was like one second ticking by without him, it wasn't long enough to repair the damage and the threats he always hung over her head like a cloud.

But (Y/n) couldn't deny what she was so clearly seeing standing in front of her. He was here in all his glory with bad omens hanging around him like shadows casting all around his feet from different angles of the sun.

The way he bent his right arm and leaned it against the doorframe made him look so casual and easy and it allowed him to lean down into the doorway until his face was hovering inches away from her own. And with his left hand stuffed very easily into his back pocket, he looked the picture of innocence and causal like he was an old acquaintance popping by for a visit. He didn't look like the cold-blooded killer (Y/n) knew him to be.

Ben had his head tilted at an angle towards his right side and it made his smile dip towards the right as well like it was lopsided from the angle. But when his lips parted to flash his pearly white teeth, the cool exterior vanished and the shark-like grin made shivers crawl agonisingly slowly up (Y/n)'s spine. One single curl fell in front of his eyes and it almost made him look innocent again, but his emerald orbs were darkening in colour like voids looming closer and closer.

"Why are you here?" (Y/n) barely trusted her voice at all but her tone was far less aggressive than she would have liked and she knew from experience that if he sensed fear on her tone it only made him push her harder. It was always a game to Ben and fear was what he searched for in everyone. People were his opponents, no matter if they were family or not.

"Am I not allowed to come and see you after four months? Don't tell me you didn't think of me even once while I was away." Ben pulled his shoulders up and tensed for a few moments but his smile stayed the same and his eyes showed he was as calm as ever when he shouldn't be.

"While you were in prison, Ben. You hadn't gone on a trip, you were locked up and you still should be, they shouldn't have let you out."

Ben had been in prison a few times before now but each time, (Y/n) had never known him get more than six months inside before he was magically released back into society to continue his wicked games. Four months was no stretch to Ben, (Y/n) knew to him it would have felt like a holiday and to the rest of them it felt like walking on egg shells just waiting for him to find a way to be released.

"I'll let you off for that one, and I'll take a guess that someone's in there because the last time I saw you, you were more relaxed than this."

Ben's words got quieter and quieter until his whispers were barely audible in (Y/n)'s voice but his actions spoke much louder than his words. He moved his hand from his pocket to cup (Y/n)'s chin, but not in a tight warning grip like she was expecting. He smoothed his thumb over her chin before tilting her head up until her lips were dangerously close to his own, right where they shouldn't be. He was dangerous territory and (Y/n) couldn't afford to get too close to him again.

The last time she had seen him was a week before he was arrested and she was only relaxed because she was drunk. Drinking around Ben lessened (Y/n)'s anxiety that he created but her anxiety was what stopped her from letting him get too close like this. It allowed her to push him away or for her to walk away from him and not do something she would later regret.

Ben was a drug. He was addicting and scary and couldn't be taken in large doses because he was too toxic and overwhelming. He put fright into (Y/n)'s heart but then he claimed her heart for himself and wouldn't give her it back and he loved the control almost as much as he loved putting the fright into her heart.

"His car isn't here and it's awfully quiet in there, who are you hiding behind you?"

(Y/n) held her breath and felt her stomach tensing and pulling inwards when Ben leaned closer very slowly until his lips ever so lightly brushed against the corner of her mouth, making her unsure if she actually felt the touch or not. The rational part of her mind knew she had to pull away and ignore her heart that was screaming for him to carry on but when she tried to pull out of his hold he pushed his fingers tighter into her chin and kept her head in place.

"Stop. Joe will be home soon-"

"That doesn't frighten me like it does you. You can blame me all you want, sweetheart, but he won't."

(Y/n) looked over to the right, focusing her eyes on the door frame so she didn't have to see the sinister curve of Ben's lips that made her want to smack him. This wasn't all her fault and she would admit this was of her own doing as much as it was his. He couldn't pin all the blame on (Y/n) when Ben was the one who had started this mess, he pursued her and he wouldn't stop until she caved. She was never the one who pushed to have an affair with Ben, he always creeped around her and cornered her and wore her down or got her drunk until she couldn't push him away any more.

(Y/n) never wanted to have an affair in the first place but the fact that it was with Ben only made her feel worse. She did love Joe, there was no doubt about that, they had been together for almost six years now. But with Ben it was just so different.

He was forbidden.

He was Joe's little brother who was the black sheep of the family and (Y/n) never wanted to get involved with a man who murdered people for fun and because he could get away with it. Everyone knew he was a killer but no one acknowledged this because he was family and he always got away with it.

But Ben was dangerous, (Y/n) was always drawn to him but she never wanted to get involved with him because Ben was controlling and he was jealous and he could be frightening and hurtful if he wanted to be. Joe was everything that Ben wasn't, but he simply wasn't enough.

If Joe found out that (Y/n) had had an affair with Ben a few years ago and that Ben still kept coming back for more he would be in trouble because Joe would try and go for his brother but Ben was the boxer and the killer.

(Y/n) and Ben's relationship was complicated because in many ways it had ended years ago, but in other ways, it was still ongoing. (Y/n) stopped it when it went too far and in her mind that was when the affair ended. But each time Ben creeped around her he either stole a kiss or a touch and he kept hovering around because he didn't want it to stop and deep down he knew (Y/n) couldn't stop it either. She couldn't have the flame disappear forever because as bad as the affair had been for her, it was still addicting and she couldn't let Ben go despite how many times she pushed him away.

"You have to go."

(Y/n) had had four months to push on with her life and cut out every aspect of Ben and it had been working. Her anxiety over him and what happened was never going to go away, it was always going to be there, but when Ben wasn't in her life for a long period of time she could almost imagine her life the way it should have been. She could see her life with Joe and her family and it was normal and uneventful and it wasn't frightening or making her anxious, it was how it should be. But then Ben called or he turned up in the dead of night out of the blue and he kissed her or whispered poison in her ear and (Y/n) remembered what her life really was.

She was a fixation that Ben couldn't let go of and she was always going to give in to whatever he said and did because she didn't know how to get away from him if he wasn't getting himself put in prison.

The only times she got away without seeing him or hearing from him and getting her life together was when he was behind bars, and that was never a long-lasting solution.

"I don't want to." He made it sound so simple and easy, he didn't want to leave after only just arriving so he wouldn't and he seemed to think or imply that the world would stop and fall at their feet. Time would stop and wait until he was ready to leave and then the world would resume its natural order and life would carry on after he walked away. But if Joe turned up and saw his brother being intimate with his girlfriend he was not going to be okay with it and (Y/n) couldn't take the outrage or the scandal and the explanations she just couldn't give.

(Y/n) felt herself begin to shake and her knees wavered like they were about to snap when Ben's lips were suddenly on her own.

Kissing him was intoxicating and he knew it, Ben knew that despite all the shit he put her through and how cruel he could be and vindictive, he could make up for it with a kiss. He could scare (Y/n), hurt her, blackmail her and bend her to his will and right when she wanted to walk away, he would kiss her and pull her back into his net. She was something he loved to play with and he did love her, but Ben's idea and ways of love were not normal and they weren't something (Y/n) wanted to get involved with in case he broke her beyond repair.

She could feel the burning intensity in his lips and the way he pushed his tongue past her lips without hesitation or having to put up much of a fight to do so. His hand let go of her chin and she felt his fingers feathering up her jaw and around to her neck until his fingers curled around the back of her neck to pull her closer.

"I've waited four months to do that."

When Ben noticed a single tear had fallen from (Y/n)'s eye, he smiled so sweetly it was almost an ungodly sight and he felt her take a shuddering breath when he leaned over to kiss the tear away. His lips were so gentle and they felt like feathers brushing against her skin and his movements were so slow (Y/n) felt like her life was being put into slow motion.

(Y/n) wanted to tell him again that he had to leave, if Joe came home now and saw this things would get ugly and if he came home and saw Ben, period, he wouldn't be happy. But her heart was telling her to invite him inside to stop anyone from seeing them out in the street and because after four months, she wouldn't be able to cope with a kiss and then watching him walk away like nothing happened.

But he couldn't come inside.

There was no time for (Y/n) to tell him again that he had to go before a third voice joined the conversation and caused goose bumps to arise on (Y/n)'s skin. "Benny!"

(Y/n) pursed her lips as she looked up at Ben through her lashes with a pleading look in her eyes mixed with a hint of guilt. She watched the way Ben rose a brow at her in a playful way that made her skin crawl because he was messing with her and he was going to make things worse now.

"Harvey, little man you've got big." The shark tooth grin on Ben's face could only come across as cheeky to the three year old who barrelled through the hall until he was stood at (Y/n)'s side staring up at Ben who he hadn't seen for many months now.

"Ben please..."

He knew Harvey was the reason (Y/n) didn't want him here or to come inside the house. She couldn't have Ben around her son because he was a bad influence and he was dangerous. If she couldn't control the kind of torment and mixed emotions Ben put her through then she could hardly control what effect Ben had on her son. But Ben wasn't leaving, the way he jutted his jaw from side to side and narrowed his eyes wickedly showed something was already formulating in his mind.

"Why don't you put your shoes on little man, me and your mum were just about to take you out." Ben ruffled Harvey's hazel coloured hair before the three year old jumped at the chance to go out and scuttled over to put on his shoes.

"Ben you can't do this. You can't turn up whenever you like and mess with me like this and you can't just try and take Harvey out whenever you want like you tried before. If Joe or your dad find out I let you take him out-"

"You live with my brother but you never had a problem sleeping with me, I think you're the one messing about here sweetheart. I'm taking him out for a bit so you can wait here for your little hubby to get back or you can come out and have some fun with us."

Joe and their dad didn't think Ben being around Harvey was all that safe considering what Ben got up to and how he was in and out of prison a lot more lately. A month didn't go by where Ben wasn't involved with the police or caught up in some scrape and right now Harvey idolized Ben because he thought he was a boxer and was someone he could look up to. They wanted to keep it that way but no one wanted Harvey in danger. Ben never hurt anyone in his family except for going behind Joe's back and sleeping with his girlfriend but he would never physically hurt any of them.

(Y/n) rubbed her hand under her eyes to try and wake herself up and calm down so she didn't burst into tears as she grabbed her coat and her keys. He had done it again, he had walked right back into her life and turned it upside down knowing he had every power to do that and she couldn't stop him.

"Why shouldn't I take him out, anyway? He is my son."

"Stop it!" (Y/n) whispered the words in sharp, vile tone of voice that grated against her throat which was turning dry like the desert. Harvey couldn't hear Ben saying that or it would rock his world upside down.

"Of course, everyone has to think he's Joe's little prodigy because you're too afraid to tell him you fucked his little brother behind his back. Don't worry, I won't say anything sweetheart."

"You really want him to know his dad kills people like they're sport? If he knew he'd grow up scared he'd turn out a monster just like you." (Y/n) knew her words were cruel but she couldn't help but be spiteful towards Ben. Harvey was the tool Ben always used against her because they were the only ones who knew that Joe wasn't Harvey's dad. But if anyone knew they would look at Harvey differently and Harvey himself would be afraid if he found out and he knew what Ben did.

They would all think he would turn out like Ben because he was his flesh and blood and the worst part was that Ben wouldn't care if Harvey took after him because he didn't have a problem with killing people, it was why he did it and got away with it.

(Y/n) wasn't an angel and she wasn't innocent, she knew Ben was a killer when she slept with him and the affair took place but she always tried to stop it. She didn't want Harvey growing up knowing his heritage and Joe was such a good dad to him. He deserved Joe as a dad, not Ben and even Ben had said he deserved as such. It was wrong to lie and (Y/n) was never going to forgive herself for this lie and in the beginning she told herself over and over again that Harvey was Joe's son. But the more she lied to herself, the more Ben twisted her thoughts and the more he overwhelmed her and clung to her and attached himself to her until she stopped lying to them both.

He knew Harvey was his son and he wouldn't let (Y/n) forget it, even if he would let everyone else believe he was Joe's boy.

"I won't have to say anything. One look at him and everyone will know he's mine. How long do you think it'll take before people start to realise he's my double?"

In a few years it would be undoubtable that Harvey was Ben's son. They had the same emerald eyes that darkened depending on their moods, they had the same curved nose with a bump in the middle, their jaws were straight as a ruler and as sharp as a knife. Their high cheekbones matched and their hair was ever so slightly different in colour but was still very similar and Harvey was going to be a tall kid and Joe wasn't tall.

If no one managed to figure out the evident truth of Harvey's heritage, Ben would tell them. He couldn't keep this secret forever, even if (Y/n) could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What was he doing here dressed like this?

It was eleven o'clock at night and (Y/n) had been five minutes away from falling face down on her bed and going to sleep but the doorbell and the signature knock on the door told her it was her boyfriend's brother at the door. (Y/n) didn't know why he was here so late at night, she knew Ben to be a night owl, he seemed to come alive at night and was hardly ever home at night.

For the past two years, (Y/n) hadn't been in Ben's company very often since Joe warned her Ben was not the nicest of people and she hardly ever had a moment on her own with him to get to know him. She would admit she didn't want to know someone who was seem and known as dangerous, but the way he smiled at her and whispered jokes in her ear when no one else was looking made her heart jump in her chest.

"Ben, Joe isn't here." (Y/n) rubbed tiredly at her eyes that were still trying to take in his rather daring form.

Ben was wearing black joggers, a black vest that almost camouflaged him into the darkness of the street and he wore an unzipped dark blue jacket with a large white stripe across the chest. The hood was pulled over his head which was tilted down so (Y/n) couldn't see the smile she was sure graced his lips. She noticed his shoulders were hunched up and his hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket like he was sulking or trying to be inconspicuous which wasn't working very well.

"That's good, cause I'm here to see you, sweetheart." The pet-name he used made (Y/n)'s chest flutter, he'd never called her that before.

"Uh... okay, come in."

It was weird that Ben wanted to see her, he liked to joke with her at family events and he seemed rather devilish but he didn't seem like he wanted to be her best friend. He liked to play around with her and tease her, but then again she had no idea why he was here so late in the night to see her.

But the moment Ben walked inside into the light and pulled his hood down to see her properly, a gasp escaped her lips and she recoiled.

That was why he was here.

"I was hoping you'd help me out." Ben grinned like the cat that got the cream but (Y/n) couldn't understand why he was smiling.

"W-what happened to you?" 

He was stood in front of her looking battered and bruised but he flashed her his teeth, narrowed his eyes and his lopsided grin looked like he was about to devour her alive.

(Y/n) was careful and gentle when she reached out and dared to feather her finger over Ben's face, her sorrowful eyes widening when he didn't even flinch once. The blond standing in front of her had a bloodshot right eye which was swollen, had a circular cut underneath near his cheekbone and there was a line of horizontal cuts at the side of his eye going down in a line on his face. The bridge of his nose had a cut but at least it didn't look crooked or broken or dislocated out of place.

Ben let (Y/n) take his chin gently in his hand and turn his head to the side so she could see the grazes that littered the left side of his face like he had scraped his face against gravel or even a brick wall.

As (Y/n) trailed her eyes down his frame, she saw there were cuts to the right side of his neck that were crusting over with blood and were burning red like they were blistering. And just below those cuts there was a deep gash on his collarbone which was also swelling.

All of his face was patched with bits of dust and grime and streaks of muck but when Ben held up his hands he seemed to grin even wider whereas (Y/n)'s jaw dropped. Two knuckles on his left hand were split and looked like they were either broken or popped out of place and a finger on his other hand was broken. But both hands were littered with scrapes and cuts and his nails were rimmed with grime and held muck under his nails.

He had been in a fight, and not the kind of fighting he usually did in a boxing ring. He was fighting out in the street late at night and he'd gotten himself rather badly beaten up. But at the same time, (Y/n) had been around Ben for two years now so she knew well enough to know that if Ben looked like this, the other guy would look ten times worse which was of little comfort to her right now.

The one thing that was standing out to (Y/n) more than anything though, was the fact that his dark blond hair that was also covered in grime and sweat, was flat and strewn about his face. Curls hung over his forehead and in front of his eyes, they shaped around the sides of his head where his hair was shaved shorter and (Y/n) just wanted to reach out and brush them away. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and make it stick up at odd angles and tangle her fingers into his curls and tug on them until she almost pulled strands from his scalp.

"Come on." (Y/n) spoke very quietly but her voice was soft and melodic to Ben who was entranced by her.

Ever since the first moment that Joe had brought (Y/n) to meet his family, Ben had been captivated. He liked the way she stared at him through her lashes like she was trying to hide and shy away from him. He loved how she laughed and tried not to draw attention to herself when she laughed at the jokes he whispered in her ear or how she shivered against him.

Ben wanted her for himself but she was reserved because she was his brother's girlfriend and not his.

But that didn't bother Ben.

He followed (Y/n) blindly like a lost puppy as she guided him up the stairs and into the bathroom before pointing for him to sit down on the toilet so she could start patching him up.

She wasn't exactly sure what to do about his eye that was swelling up underneath, not directly around the eye so it wouldn't be swollen shut in the morning. She decided to get an antiseptic wipe from the first aid box and gently clean the cut around his eye, the one on his cheekbone and then the one on the bridge of his nose. She knelt down between Ben's legs so she could see him properly and clean him up, all whilst staying completely silent with a soft yet sad look on her face.

When she came to cleaning the grazes on the other side of his face, Ben dug his nails into his knees but he stayed surprisingly silent, allowing her to patch him up like they had been best friends or lovers for years. When in reality, this was the most intimate they had been and they had never been in more proximity than this. Ben liked it, he liked the silence and the feel of her touch and the way she was staring up at him with big doe eyes that were entrancing him to the point he wanted to devour her until nothing was left.

"Why do you get into fights like this?" (Y/n) couldn't help but ask out of curiosity. It seemed pointless to get into fights for no reason which Ben always did, especially when half the time he knew he could win. There was no point playing the game if you always knew you were going to be the victor.

"I fight for the same reasons people smoke and drink and keep going back to their ex. It's a habit that makes me feel good and calm and like I have control."

Ben liked fighting, the broken bones, cuts, scrapes and bruises and torn muscles didn't come close to the euphoria he felt when he broke his knuckles against someone's face or heard the satisfying snap of their bones beneath his touch.

"You like getting hurt?"

"No, I like hurting other people, sweetheart, don't get those two things confused. Me getting hurt is just a side note, that's not why I do it."

"But you're letting yourself get broken."

"But I'm letting you fix me." Ben didn't fight just so he got hurt and he tried not to split his knuckles and let himself get broken bones but he couldn't help if it happened. He loved the fight far too much to ever give it up, it was who he was and what he was good at. And even though he did get hurt he always patched himself up or let someone else help him like he was right now.

(Y/n) stayed silent as she leaned up further to clean Ben's bruised and bleeding collarbone before she turned to tend to his knuckles. She put a plaster over one of his fingers to stop the trickle of blood but when she went to tape his fingers together, he moved his hand to cup her jaw.

"Leave 'em, they ain't broken so they don't get taped."

"O-okay... c-can I put your knuckles back into place...?" (Y/n)'s voice was quiet and her eyes were wider than before which made Ben's hand tighten on her jaw for a second before he nodded and held his hands out to her.

He finally flinched for once when three knuckles were popped back into their sockets and his fingers were stretched out and he watched the way (Y/n) flinched for him as well like she was experiencing the pain.

"Thank you."

"Why me? I- I mean I'm flattered you wanted me to patch you up and all, but why?"

"Because I like you."

Ben spoke those words just as (Y/n) pushed herself to her feet and his words caused her to stumble before freezing on the spot, leaving her stood between his legs staring at him like he'd told her she was the only person in the world worth looking at.

She didn't see why he seemed attached to her right now when she didn't know too much about him. But when Ben reached out and suddenly clamped his damaged hands down on her hips to pull her closer, all she could do was squeak without telling him to stop. And when he pulled her to sit on his lap so he could attach his lips to her neck, she became paralysed without the ability to tell him that this was wrong.

(Y/n) knew they shouldn't be doing this. She was with Joe, she loved Joe and he was Ben's brother, this was a betrayal on both their parts, especially for Ben. It wasn't as if Ben didn't know (Y/n) was dating Joe or how his brother was going to react if he found out what his little brother was doing with his girlfriend.

But (Y/n) couldn't deny that this was something she had thought about before. Ben was handsome, there was no denying that and the sinister side of him was attractive and daring. He drew her in without having to do anything but wink her way and smile, no words or touches had to be exchanged for (Y/n) to want to be drawn towards him. But this was wrong, she had never cheated on anyone before and she was serious with Joe, they'd been together for two years now.

"If you want me to stop, just say so."

(Y/n) couldn't help but whimper when Ben kissed his way up from her neck down her jaw before he hovered his lips over hers. His eyes locked with hers and he smoothed his thumbs over her hips. If (Y/n) really didn't want Ben to continue he would pull away and walk out the house right now, all she had to do was tell him to stop and he would. But when she stayed silent and he kissed her, it felt like the world was shifting around her. She had sealed her fate but she didn't know what it had install for her yet.

She didn't want him to stop, no matter how wrong it was to kiss him.

[thewincestgospel]

do you have any wincest fic rec in which sam and dean are actual fbi agents or something similar? even just the two of them being partners at some normal job, police-y or not. thanks ♡

Okay that gif is a little aggressive but you get what I mean.

FBI Agent Dean

Alternate World by EimiWinchester (Siyah_Kedi)   Sam casts a spell to take him to where Dean is whole and alive, and ends up in another world.     

Counting Bodies Like Sheep by  abeautifullie3 Sam D'Eboli is a mobster.  Special Agent Dean Winchester is assigned to take him down.  Dean's okay with that double entendre...until he isn't. A connection that won't be denied, and secrets revealed, Dean's objective may no longer be the same as the FBI's.      

FBI Agent Sam

Federal Temptations by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD  Dean Winchester is a career criminal who is caught by the FBI. The FBI calls in their best interrogator, Sam Wesson, to crack Dean, and Dean learns something about Sam.  

You Were Made For Me by blackrose_17 Sam Wesson has belonged to Dean Winchester since he first laid eyes on him and it doesn't matter that Sam is with the FBI sent to take him down, Sam is his. Sam just needs to remember that                

FBI Agent Jensen or Jared

Broken Angel by  moviegeek03 Senator Fred Lehne has been brutally attacking, raping, and murdering young men for over a decade, but always evades arrest thanks to his money and power. He has everyone fooled, except one team of detectives headed by Captain Jeffrey Dean Morgan and his protege Jensen Ackles. When things become worse, Morgan goes to FBI agents Misha Collins and Jim Beaver for help. They offer it in the form of Jared Padalecki, hotshot profiler who also happens to be Jensen's boyfriend. But there is more Jared...he also happens to be the only surviving victim of Lehne's..

Coming Home by sasha_dragon F.B.I. agent Jared Padalecki works in the L.A. Under cover Unit as a handler.   He has fallen in love with the under cover agent he looks after but has never met. Now Jared is engaged in a race against time and across L.A. To get to him before it’s too late. Can Agent Jensen Ackles hang on long enough, to finally meet Jared.

Shape of My Heart  by ashtraythief There are two things that make Jensen feel: killing people and thinking of the boy with the sunshine smile.

Police Officer Dean

Arachnophobia  by JuniperLemon   There's trouble going down in Sam's apartment. Unfortunately, this leads to a neighbor calling cops, Winchester and Novak.              

Impurity in the Night by CleverUsernameHere Officer Winchester is called to handle a noise disturbance. When he arrives he finds a high school party and gets more than he bargained for when he sees a familiar face  

Let's Get Frisky by ShadowBiscuit  What do you do when the city's hottest cop has his eyes on you and chases your fine ass down streets and alleys? When you can't help but want him to catch you and fulfill your dirtiest fantasies?Sam's solution to this problem is relatively easy: just be a flirtatious little brat and see where it gets you.      

Look the Other Way By: Candle Beck    Dean is a cop and Sam is his no-good brother.        

Mírë by  blackrose_17   Dean Winchester had an okay life as sheriff of Sioux Falls, sure his love life was a little slow but that was fine with him then everything changed the day Sam Wesson and his son Jack and friends moved into the empty Wesson Manor. Dean finds his world changed as he is drawn to the single father and his young son and his life is changed as his eyes opened to the fact magic is real and Sam is being hunted by someone who refuses to let him go. Dean will do whatever it takes to protect his new family.              

V I C E by awabubbles   Dean Winchester works in the human trafficking unit for the Vice Control Section of the Chicago PD. While undercover, Dean meets "Baby Boi" aka Sam, an underage prostitute with a strange fascination for the macabre. Sam has cast himself as Bonnie in a real life reenactment of the infamous outlaw duo, insisting that Dean is his Clyde. When Dean finally agrees, they run off to fulfill each other's deepest, darkest fantasies. For Sam, it's a dream come true; until Dean starts to spiral out of control.              

Police Officer Sam

  Blue on Blue  by  bingsboba  Sam Wesson, a young narc with intelligent eyes and a naïve spirit, meets Dean Smith, a man with a charming facade and a dangerous interior, in a drug bust mission turned into a failure. With no evidence to pin Dean to a crime, Sam is unable to move forward with his first loss in his job. Determined to have the biggest drug bust tied to his name, Sam goes after the con artist, but Dean turns out to be more than Sam can handle.   

Deeply Dangerous Dean  by ScorchedAngel   Dean is a quiet blood spatter analyst who keeps himself to himself and Sam is a detective on the hunt for the man who murdered his girlfriend Ruby. They've both been keeping secrets from each other and everyone else that have the potential to turn their world upside down.              

The Orange Hour  by  Deeranger     The Winchesters have gone undercover in a prison while working on a case: Dean as an inmate, Sam as a correctional officer. This way they will be able to gather information from both sides of the bars. A smart move, right? Or so they think. Because on a seemingly peaceful evening a riot breaks out, and the brothers are suddenly forced to question themselves - but most of all each other. What is real and what is not? And just how far are they willing to go to keep each other alive?

Perfect, Twisted, Bloody Family  by orphan_account   Dean has a great life. He’s got amazing boyfriend and a successful business, lots of friends, and a smart detective for a brother. They have awesome dinners at each other’s houses, poker nights, and a relationship most siblings would envy. Dean also has a deep, secret lust he’s been harboring for said little brother. That, and the occasional murder of a pimp or drug dealer, just to keep things interesting. C’est la vie.

Stop and Search   by JuniperLemon   Dean is trying to get out of town after a hunt when he is pulled over by Officer Wesson. Things go slightly unexpected when his hunting equipment is discovered. Unrelated wincest.  

Two Sides Of The Same Coin  by ShadowBiscuit   Sam Winchester, police detective.He's trying to find the notorious serial killer who has been leaving mutilated bodies all around the city. The police hasn't been this baffled since the time of Jack the Ripper. This mystery killer is just simply impossible to catch...But Sam isn't one to back down from a challenge. So he hunts the monster that preys on the innocent, however this time, he's not sure if he wants to win.Not when the "Righteous Man" might be his own flesh and blood, his big brother.                                                            

Police Officer  Jensen or Jared  

The Balance (Constantine Fic) by storyspinner70   Jensen Ackles spent his days coughing up his lungs and killing demons, hoping to earn his way into heaven. Jared knew his sister didn't kill herself, no matter what the Church had to say, and a hateful exorcist with a mission and a chip on his shoulder may not be his first choice for a guide, but Jensen was going to help him – if he didn't die first. Trips to hell, lung cancer, a conniving archangel, and even the devil himself weren't going to stop Jared from getting his sister back where she truly belonged.              

Creature Feature by Saone Something hungry is lurking in Lake Winchester.

Cuffs by TwoBoys2Love   Detective Ackles gets a new partner who may be a bit of a challenge. They have different views about everything. Ackles picks up some work on a new case that reveals his partner's secret and dredges up the past              

I'm A Broken Man With Addictive Tendencies  by robin_writes  In Jared’s mind they were a new brand of a tale as old as time; Romeo and Juliet. From two different worlds, destined to be kept apart, and both of them too fucked in the head to survive what they end up doing to each other.Jared is a cop who is a dom and Jensen is an underage prostitute. Jared tries to tuck away his 'dom personality' but you can't hide yourself from yourself.              

The Lion The Beast and The Beat by storyspinner70   It’s the typical story: boy goes through an ugly divorce, boy falls in love with the late night DJ that keeps him company on all his sleepless nights, boy saves DJ from his “number one fan”. The DJ is very grateful.

Mischief and Mayhem  by LoveThemWinchesters   Jared is a police officer.Jensen is his biker/bar owner husband of several years.Chaos ensues when something very important is lost.  

Out of Silence  by Annie46fic When hardened, but lonely cop, Jensen Ackles meets Jared Padalecki in his family’s diner, he doesn’t realize that his life is about to change drastically. Jared is a complete innocent, deaf, mute and unable to communicate, he needs a friend. Can Jensen be that man?

Pure like Blood by Ephermeralk   They have a deal. It’s two years (730 days, 17,520 hours) before Jared turns eighteen. And if, by some miracle, Jensen’s not in prison and Jared’s not another Joe Doe in the morgue, they’ll both leave Denver and start a new life. But, until then, Jared’s still got work and Jensen’s still a cop who’s hell bent on putting away the rest of Jared’s clients.          

Shades of Cool by tebtosca   Officer Ackles tries to keep the peace, but that Padalecki kid doesn't want to play nice.                            

Some Kind Of Hold On Me  by KatStark   Cop Jared comes home to his boyfriend, who has a special night in mind.      

Speaking Softly by femmefatales   Jared Padalecki, a 27-year-old police officer with a psychology degree gets assigned a special case. His job is to do one thing and one thing only-- Get Jensen Ackles, a seventeen year old boy who's been badly abused, to talk.                                

Stray by  storyspinner70   Officer Jared Padalecki is on his way home, but catches one last call that's near him. He has no idea exactly how eighteen year old werecat Jensen Ackles is going to change his life, but sometimes the best things in your life are things you never saw coming. 

Trust in me by Winmance It isn’t the innocence of the boy’s voice that was making such dirty sexual innuendos that made his blood run cold, it was the suggestive smirk he plastered onto his face while saying it. The way he leans too far forward on the chair, that it was impossible not to look obscene, and the large spread of his legs while he does so, almost inviting Jensen to look.When Jensen's best friend asks him to questionned the young prostitute he just came back with, Jensen has no idea that his life is about to change. Neither does Jared.                           

[fullofbeautifulmistakes03]

Okay let me put some points out there. As you guys know English is not my first language so sorry any mistake.

I'm going to start by talking about how Jodie Comer was TT last night because she's supposed to be dating a Trump supporter.

I'm not afraid of losing "followers" so I'm going to say what I really think: Jodie Comer is first of all, a human being, an excellent and talented actress, with many capacities and nuances that I had not seen in this generation for a long time, not only for her amazing performance of Villanelle but for everything she has done throughout her career, so unless you have seen each and every one of her projects and have not a shred of taste for good talent, interpretation and delivery, don't come here to judge this woman's talent based on her personal decisions.

JodieComerOverParty honestly, what the fuck is that? That weak, senseless and hateful "cancel culture" under which nothing but haters and repressed people who do nothing but put their hatred and issues in the lives of others, has to get out of your heads. Can you think that you have to be really screwed up inside to sit down and do that creepy quest for someone's intimate life just to satisfy your own hatred, resentment and problems? And worst of all, this generation is being so powerful but so weak at the same time, so easy to influence; they literally see any TT and they just decide to join, for what? to look cool? Bc is it what you supposed to do if you have more than 3K followers? Or is it because you really want to speak and give an opinion that is not influenced by what people say but by what you really think? Because honestly I see nothing like that. Some Twitter, Ig and Tumblr stans are not only sheep that follow a shepherd without any purpose, but they defend something without any other purpose than to hate and keep their followers.

Do I have to give my opinion about Jodie dating a Trump supporter? No. Am I giving it? Yes. Because it's my fucking problem but I also understand that it's not my fucking problem what kind of dick is she sucking. Who she's dating doesn't give me any right to get into her private life, her family, and look for shit just because you reflect your fucking hatred on her.

Like, do you feel hurt because you think she has been a hypocrite for saying that she is an ally of the LGBTQ + community, supported BLM and read the letter to Virginia? But also dating a trump supporter?

Well, you have every right, you feel cheated and betrayed, I understand it, being a trump supporter represents everything that goes against our community and minorities and you are also assuming that by dating him and knowing his ideals and beliefs she accepts and adopts them which is not necessarily true but i understand. So, yes, I understand that you do not see congruence between her actions and the people with whom she has around her, especially her supposed boyfriend, I understand that she has a social responsibility when interpreting a character so dear to different communities, I understand that the fact that Jodie having a boyfriend who is Trump supporter can mean different and valid things for many of us, I understand that you feel somehow hurt, I can understand all that and I'm nobody to tell you that you should not feel it or that you're wrong or you're okay.

But what is definitely not right and I cannot understand is believing that you have the right to decide what is right and what is wrong in someone else's life. What is not right is that you feel you have the right to believe yourself with so much moral superiority as to point out to a person that point 1. You don't know and that point 2. You don't know. What is not right is that you support hate and suicide messages towards a person who point 3. You don't know. And that even if you knew and everything will prove true, you also have no right.

You have the right to give your opinion and your opinion has the right to be respected but your opinion does not have to be the opinion of your followers or your friends or your family, so the next time you decide to do a thread and a crap search think about what would happen if someone decides to do the same to you. I mean, they didn't find anything about Jodie so they went to get shit from the people around her. SICK.

Do I support the fact that she is dating a Trump supporter? No. It does that matter? Let's be honest, no, it doesn't matter, because at the end of the day I don't have to reflect or set my own expectations in someone else's life, especially in the life of someone I don't know. Do I support trump? No man, I hate the guy. But that doesn't give me the right to send hate and suicide messages to Jodie just because her boyfriend is trash. I love Jodie, but I do not idealize her, I know that she is a human being, I know and I hope that she knows of her privileges, I am aware of that, I know that she is an extraordinary actress, I know that I want to see her in many many more projects, I know that she deserves all the awards in the world, but I know that at the end of the day, Jodie is not only a talented actress but there are many things that neither you nor I know and that is why you cannot idealize your fav, that's all I know about Jodie.

You can't impose your expectations and create a weight of that size in them because simply at the end of the day when they make the first mistake, you, the one who loved her from the beginning for idealizing her and believing that she was perfect, are the first person to cancel her. So, if you are going to support someone because of their talent, do it, if you are going to follow their career, do it, if you are going to create an account in honor of that person, do it, but do it knowing that you are not following some perfect God or person, do it with the knowledge that your dreams are not their dreams, that your ideals are not that person's, that your expectations are not and do not have to be that person's but above all do it because despite the fact that at some point your fav disappoint you or make a mistake, you will be there to continue supporting them regardless of the man or woman they decided to be with. That is what a true fan does. Supporting the person's talent and work, a fan has the right to judge a misinterpretation, to say you don't like it, to say anything about any movie or tv show, but being that fan doesn't give you the right to invade someone's life in such a way that, that person feels shit to the point of committing suicide as it happened earlier this year or as it happened with Taylor Swift some years ago that she had to hide for more than a year for all the shit that those who called themselves fans threw her.

I would also like to say that Sandra Oh, she is an excellent actress, her talent is simply incredible and she deserves all the awards in the world, all the recognition in the world, and throughout Killing Eve, I have only been able to see how some insist on putting Sandra and Jodie against each other, despite seeing that they have a genuine and beautiful working relationship, I have been able to see how the "fans" of Jodie judge Sandra and those of Sandra Judge and blame Jodie for many things, my big question is, Why? The injustice that the television industry commits against minorities today is not Jodie's fault, in this case. It is not Jodie's fault that the writers of Killing Eve are white, it is not Jodie's fault that according to you Jodie has more screen time than Sandra, it is not Jodie's fault that some of you have so much hatred in your soul that they reflect it not only damaging a beautiful production but also to your fav.

Sandra is a powerful woman, not afraid to speak, she literally co-produced the series to precisely have a voice, Sandra is a woman in every sense of the word, which means she is strong, free, powerful and she can speak for herself, one thing I'm sure of is that Sandra Oh, she deserves everything good in this world except those toxic "fans" who believe that a woman like Sandra needs to be defended or to speak for her.

Sandra Oh, she knows what she deserves and how well she has said it, she is at the stage of her career where she can decide which project to take or not, basically she can do whatever the hell she wants. Sandra Oh, she does not need a handful of children to believe that they have the right to decide or say "this is what Sandra wants, this is what Sandra needs" Sandra Oh, she does not need you to defend her from anything because she has a voice that knows how to use and does not necessarily have to be as you all expect. So the next time you feel like you have the right to say "this is what Sandra wants or needs" take a second to review your frustrations, to review your expectations and stop putting them on the shoulders of your idols.

Finally, know that Villanelle is not real, she is a character played by this extraordinary actress named Jodie Comer. Know that Jodie Comer is not Villanelle and know that Jodie Comer has every right to be straight and play queer characters, she has the right not to be what you in her fantasy world expect her to be. I say this because I have seen how the anger of some is not even that she is dating a Trump Supporter but that she is dating a man and not a woman. Like, put your shit together.

I love Jodie, I support her career, her talent I hope to see her in many other productions.

I support Jodie, I support her because I judge her by her talent and not by her clothes, makeup, hair or boyfriend.

I support Jodie because I doubt that her commitment to her work, so far, is fake. I support her not because is my idol, because I do not idealize her, I support her because I admire her talent and I enjoy her work. I have nothing to say about her private life, each one makes her own karma, it is Jodie's problem if she goes out with a Trump or Bolsonaro supporter, Jodie's problem is the footprint she leaves on the road, it's Jodie's problem if she date a man or a woman, it's Jodie's problem if she lives in Boston or London, it's Jodie's problem her fucking ass. It is her problem, not my problem. Jodie owes me nothing, absolutely nothing. And I'm not so influential as to let this change my opinion about an actress who so far has given me nothing but her talent, I am not so influential as to take advantage of this situation and throw the repressed hatred at someone for some personal issues.

To those who take advantage of the situation to say what they really think of Jodie, go ahead, do it, have the ovaries to hold what you say but then go. To the weak stan who immediately changed their photo or their bio, look in the mirror, you are a fake, have the ovaries to hold what you said and go as well please.

The day I see that Jodie Comer is really a fake, that day I take her out of my life myself, but not based on the twisted mind of some sick person who decided that it is time to hate or cancel the amazing Jodie Comer.

[kathyprior4200]

BML Livestream Reaction 6/9/2020

To my lovely H.H. viewers, listeners, readers:

Wow! The livestream today on Ashley's channel was incredible. The fandom raised more than 60,000 dollars for the Black Lives Matter charity. (I was one of the unnoticed ones who donated). I'm just as amazed as the show staff at the sheer generosity and talent of this fandom. There were a lot of hilarious moments and very good improvs as well. (ex. Bosco saying in Alastor's voice: "I'm an unstoppable death machine!" And all the "Oh Ashley," running gags.

Onto theories and clip reveals:

There appear to be at least five episodes for Helluva Boss (maybe) and perhaps for Hazbin Hotel as well. When would episode 12 + come out? 2027? I'll happily wait if I can live and last that long.

The first clip revealed showed Blitzo taking to Loona, him saying "have a treat" and then eating the biscuit. Millie appears to be there with Moxxie, drawing a pentagram symbol on a wall. Perhaps a gateway to the human world?

Blitzo (yells at a shy imp): "You set fire to my fucking office in front of a goddamn client you dipshit, now someone please tell me that hocus pocus book is still intact?"

Loona (holding the Satanic book): "Our only ticket to the living world? Grabbed it."

Blitzo: "That's why you're my favorite, Loony! You get a treat."

Loona: "Ew. Stop."

Blitzo eats a treat with a happy look on his face. An imp in a dress stands in the background. Millie draws a pentagram on the wall.

Blitzo (to Loona) "Oh stop it, I get enough of that from my therapist. Now lets get to it, gang!"

They prepare to enter Earth.

Second clip: We are introduced to Loo-Loo Land, an apple-themed circus/amusement park. Loo-Loo is another term for sh*t or bathrooms, so a fitting name for one in Hell. Loo-Loo is a large creepy apple mascot who appears overly cheerful toward the imps and presumably Octavia, who's not impressed. Stolas then takes Blitzo to the rides. He can be seen in a themed outfit, with an apple on his shirt, sorts, and a balloon in his hand. Lucifer has a bar/land called Loo-Loo Land that the theme park is a bad spinoff of it.

Millie (both wear glasses): (Moxxie) "Come on, it's fun! You've never been here?" Moxxie: "No. Theme parks always disturb me. Especially (shakes) the mascots."

A creepy mascot dressed as a red apple appears behind them. He's a red apple with a missing tooth in a wide grin of teeth and one of the eyes hanging from string.

Loo-Loo (in a southern accent) "Well, hey there!"

Millie and Moxxie scream.

Loo-Loo: "I'm Loo-Loo! Welcome to Loo-Loo land!"

Stolas talks to his daughter Octavia by a dinosaur carousel.

Stolas: "Look, Via, it's Loo-Loo!"

Octavia is not impressed with the childish theme park and the lack of more modern rides and features.

Octavia (British accent): "I have a question."

Loo-Loo: Well ask away, little girlie! (Goofy laugh)"

Octavia: "Is it true that this theme park is really a shameless spin-off of Lucifer's more popular Loo-Loo World?" (Disneyland vs Disneyworld)

Loo-Loo: No."

Octavia: "This place reeks of insecure corporate shame."

Stolas: "Why don't we go check out the rides."

Third clip showed what appears to be a rival company to Immediate Murder Professionals. It's called CHERUB, consisting of flying singing sheep with halos and angel wings. It can be assumed that they come from Heaven. Do they save lives (like the alternate E.L.F. in Heavenuva Boss) or do they grant miracles while scamming people? One things for sure, they are super cute. Hmm...maybe they are part of brainwashed sheep who want to spread Heaven's culture so others can mindlessly follow it? Or maybe just as a way to bring down I.M.P. to prove that they can be the best demon killers around? Blitzo blows up a TV in frustration. Now I.M.P. has to find a way to save their company and stop their rivals.

Based on the song, they save people's lives on Earth! (Guess what Hazbins: I thought of the AU E.L.F. characters before this was cool!)

If there is a rival company in Heaven to I.M.P. in Hell, it can only mean one thing: a (Haven) hotel in Heaven may also exist. (Except it would be used to give angels freedom to cause trouble and sin/to be themselves in defiance to the strict rules.)

The sheep angels save people from a car accident, and lift up a rock from a crushed person. They do the work for free, as one of them denies money. With I.M.P. killing humans and C.H.E.R.U.B. saving people, it brings the world in balance. (Though poor sheep: too many people are dying from Covid 19.) Both of them do their part to influence the living world (strangely enough, the Hazbin Earth humans seem accepting of the random creatures who arrive and then leave.

C.H.E.R.U.B. saves people so they have a chance to go to Heaven. I.M.P. kills people for money so the humans wind up in Hell.

Christ's Heavenly Efficient Revivers Under Bless

Christ's Healing Employees Revive Unlimited Bodies

Creators Host Efficient Revival Under Belief

Creating Happy Earth Routines U Believe

Sheep/faun one female: "Luckily for you..."

Sheep two male: "There is something we can do..."

Both: "We can help you feel alive, so you can save some time!(waste and drive?)" (two sheep stand beside a baby angel and all smile)

"Cause here at C.H.E.R.U.B., we can save your honey butt from dying violently. " C.H.E.R.U.B. (R mark) "We never even ask a fee." "Because good people spread the love, "And we're here for all above. "We do the paperwork for you "And the heavy lifting too." (Female sheep is shown exhausted in a pile of paperwork and later shown lifting a boulder from a man.) Both sheep witness a dying man from a car accident and wipe the scene away. "So sit back and let us bless a soul... for you." (all three sing). "Oh we, are the C.H..."

Blitzo blows up the TV in anger.

Random names: The cherub is Blitzo's opposite, Millie and the female sheep and Moxxie and the male sheep.

Blitzo's name is German for lightning. Moxxie means aggressive energy. Millie means mild strength/industrious

Donner= German for thunder Jalen= peace Ardel = industrious

Theories based on the song: 1. Heaven has animal-like Zoophobia characters like Hell 2. C.H.E.R.U.B. saves lives while I.M.P. kills them, thus keeping the world in balance. 3. The cherub leader would be Blitzo's rival. Male sheep vs Moxxie, female sheep vs Millie 4. If I.M.P. had their way, everyone would be dead. If C.H.E.R.U.B. had their way, the earth would be overpopulated. 5. C.H.E.R.U.B. have access to Heaven and Earth. They probably use the Bible to access the living world. 6. C.H.E.R.U.B. would save anyone, even criminals. 7. C.H.E.R.U.B. might have another Loona counterpart. 8. Could I.M.P. and C.H.E.R.U.B. have access to all three realms?

Clip number four: Blitzo and Stolas talk in bed. Stolas goes under the covers and stares seductively at him. He gets the idea to take Blitzo to a Harvest Festival with him as a bodyguard. Blitzo gets suspicious, claiming he won't go if Stolas uses him for sex and his purposes. Soon, Blitzo decides to come along. Stolas then says "sorry about you leaving behind your clients," while Blitzo retorts "Oh fuck my clients!" Best line. Stolas' wife will not be happy when she hears of Stolas and Blitzo's relationship.

Stolas (smokes a cigarette): " It's shocking to it to be seen, Blitzy. My grimoire is incredibly vital. And it isn't supposed to be let out by little imps like yourself." He puts out his cigarette on Blitzo's horns and pinched his cheek. Blitzo sighs and shoves him off. Both appear to be topless.

Stolas: "The Harvest Moon is a very special occasion. It's been my annual duty to celebrate it in the Ring of Wrath. It's a charming little festival with games and music..."

Blitzo: "A wrath ring, huh? My employees are from there. Haven't really been, but it sounds like a place of imprints."

Stolas: "Oh! Why don't you all accompany me to the festival as our special guests?! I'll give you all... (goes under the covers and lies near Blitzo's privates. "...special access." (chuckles)

Blitzo: "Look I told you, we're not bodyguards, alright? It was a one time thing we did and guess what? We did it badly!"

Stolas stands up with the cover over his head.

Stolas: "I'm simply offering a fun work-free day of fun! I feel quite safe at the Harvest Festival. I go every year. Nothing has changed."

Blitzo: "Okay, look if you promise this is not some fuck-fest invite... it does sound like it could be fun. Alright, I'll run it by the others. It sounds like we can work without the book anyway."

Stolas: "I do hope to see you there. I'm sorry your clients will have to wait."

Blitzo: (waves his hand) "Oh fuck my clients!"

We are introduced to new characters: Loo-Loo the creepy apple mascot, the shy imp, owl princess Octavia, "Melodia" the queen, the CHERUB sheep and Robo-Fizz, a robotic jester demon colored black, yellow, white, and light pink-red. It can be assumed that he is red and black and dangerous in his true form. Could Hell's circus be one big conspiracy? Anything is possible in the inferno.

Thank you to all who supported Vivzie's charity and those who continue to show their love for the show and concern for what's going on in the world. Protests, Police, Pandemic, Personal Rights. I donated earlier and I do all I can to keep the fandom together, trying to tapper down the "shipping wars." I don't feel like a hero at all, but I feel good that I'm showing support.

My work is unknown in comparison to all the marvelous Charlastor fanfictions out there:

MuseValentine's "Smiling Man" Angelus19's "Taxidermist"

and many more.

Please don't forget to show support to Hazbin Madness and Radio Hazbin on YouTube. Some people may disagree with me on this, but I think those two voice actors and comic dubbers have better potential than Markapiler and JackdaSepticeye. Yes, the latter two may be famous and well-known, but in my opinion, only HalusaTwin and InSaiyans capture the uncasted Lucifer and Lilith so well. A king and queen of the fandom.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCVkr2V_Y-sIzBH01AbPcufw

But don't fret. This fandom has given me ideas that keep skyrocketing through my head and into the world. I've made fanfictions since 2014 and have only made more after being exposed to DBZ and H.H. My long projects seem to take months to update but as long as I'm alive, inspired and have free time, I won't cease doing what I love. Indeed, Viv's words inspired me toward the end of the stream. She said to a person who donated a lot and the viewers to share their creativity with the world, as it can inspire others. Vivziepop is a role model for me, as are so many of my friends/content creators (artist Ady Laine, theorist BlueRaven666, musician Ashboyo, my close friend Sumera Paleema (DBZ artist) and many others.

Very soon, I'll be expanding upon my rewrites/remixes of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss. Indeed, the future episodes may be closer than we think!

Stay safe out there and treat each other well.

-Kathy Prior 42

[arianakristine]

So, I really did not except Ready or Not, horror-comedy that it is, to hit me with a ship. 

But I suppose with a blonde bride who grew up in foster care and is kickass, with a weak but self-preserving groom, and his stubbly curly-haired self-loathing brother? This was only inevitable.

@skagengiirl, I also was taking into account letter L of this prompt, but it turned into something a lot longer to get to that point.

Title: Ready or Not  Summary: AU. On her wedding day, Emma thinks she has finally found a family. But  her groom is a mess of nerves, her new brother-in-law is distracting, and her in-laws are requesting a game at midnight. If this is what it takes, she can deal with a game of Hide and Seek, right? Note: Strong language, blood, violence, death, and attempted-sacrifice tw? I guess? Also time resetting. This is so not my usual gremma feels kinda fic (but it also kinda is). Taking a little from OUAT, a lot from Ready or Not, and then throwing in a fix-it because why not. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

*

 *

                The actual wedding was a blur.

                She had expected it would go quick, but it was like a gunshot how fast it went by, almost like a joke. She barely even registered it until the sun was low in the sky and she was getting final photos with her new family in.

                She is married. She has a husband. She has a family.

                She stands with her hands clutching her bouquet, held smile aching, her in laws over each shoulder. Once the last flash ends, Mr. Gold rushes off to his colleagues. Mrs. Gold squeezes a hand on her shoulder. “Dear,” she says sweetly, her voice more softly accented than her husband’s. “You are doing amazingly.”

                Emma feels a buzz of excitement, and she almost kicks herself out of how eagerly she laps up compliments from her mother-in-law. “Thanks. I think I’m keeping it together. Glad I don’t have to get used to it,” she replies, to which Milah bristles and shakes her head.

                “Well, the Golds still get a lot of attention on an everyday basis, and you are marrying my golden child,” she says with a laugh. “But if you stay in the right circles, you are correct. You won’t have to keep that frozen smile quite so long.”

                She turns and catches Neal’s eye briefly, and he lifts a glass in acknowledgement before turning back to his sister. The redhead is relaxed next to her brother, smile easy. “I’m just glad to be gaining this family,” she admits softly. She needs Milah to know how much this means to her, how much she loves her son and how eager she is to fit in. She’s never fit in before.

                Milah tilts her head and studies her with a smile, hand reaching to touch her chin. “Your vows were beautiful. Neal didn’t tell us you were brought up in foster homes. Not that he tells us much of anything these days.”

                She freezes, and meets her green eyes head on, trying to see there was any judgement there.

                “Ah,” Milah says simply, and chuckles. She winks at her. “I see. You think your blood isn’t blue enough. Don’t worry; they said the same thing about me.”

                “They did?” she asks. She feels oddly unmatched next to Milah’s sophisticated demeanor, and couldn’t imagine her being anything other than this composed, no-nonsense, elegant woman.

                Milah smiles, incisors sharp and bright white. “Stand tall. And fuck ‘em,” she says simply, and then nudges her arm as she leaves the staged area in front of the fountain.

                She plays with her rings, waiting a little anxiously for the next family member. Her brother-in-law hops down the stairs, drink predictably in hand. He sets it on the ground, loose curls falling over his stubbled face, before he joins her. His suit is immaculate and his posture straight despite the sharp smell of whiskey clinging on him. He rests a hand on her spine gently to turn her towards the photographer before dropping it just as quick, and a familiar tingle shoots through her at the action.

                She glances up at him quickly, eyebrow quirking. The Golds are not an unattractive group, but Graham is just … a lot. He looks handsome today, just as handsome as she’d first noticed when Neal had first introduced them weeks ago. It was too bad he leaned so heavily on his vices or else something in his sweet, genuine personality may have changed her mind about which brother she preferred.

                She’s kidding, of course.

                At least mostly.

                “So,” he says, accent tickling her ears. “You’ve decided to stay.”

                His words from the bedroom, as she was practicing her vows, come back to her. Not too late to flee, you know. You don’t belong in this family. And I mean that as a compliment.

                She actually believes he meant that; he was always a little self-loathing, and loved to jump with an insult or two when it came time to mention the entirety of the Gold clan. And he had almost looked mad at his older brother for choosing to marry her, though she must have imagined that. As much as Graham seemed to loathe his family, he loves his older brother a whole lot. But he’s told that joke before, something along the lines she should run screaming from their family, and sometimes it didn’t quite feel like a joke.

                “Observant,” she replies with a nod. Her fixed smile turns to a smirk, and she looks up at him. They’ve always had an easy banter, and she needs a little of that right now. She still feels like a frayed nerve around the rest of the family, too afraid she’ll screw something up and they’ll see just how broken she is. “You look pretty lucid, all things considered,” she states.

                Graham presses his lips into a firm line, those soft cobalt eyes more haunted than amused.

                “Mr. Gold, Mrs. Gold, please look here!”

                She flinches at the technically correct but strangely stated titles.

                Graham’s lip quirks up and he is almost back to his old self. He nods toward the camera. “Quick, smile pretty.”

                She blinks and wants to smack him or something to get him all the way back, but instead does as asked.

                She feels eyes on her as the camera flashes, and she turns her head to find one of the relatives, Aunt Cora, she thinks, staring daggers at her. Shivers unnervingly light up her spine, and Graham shifts to catch her expression.

                “Oh, don’t worry,” he says matter-of-factly under his breath through gritted smile. “She’s just trying to figure out if you’re a gold-digging whore. Y’know, like my wife.”

                She makes a sound half-way between a giggle and a snort, shaking her head with the realization that he is probably drunker than she first assumed. “Don’t let her catch you saying such flattering things,” she admonishes, teasing in her tone.

                Graham smirks and the back of his hand brushes hers as he gives a mock wave in the direction of his wife, who is currently staring down her nose disapprovingly at them. “Oh, she knows exactly how I feel about her,” he says coolly.

                Her brow knits a second and she’s a moment away from pressing further before she remembers: pictures. She smiles once more, but ponders his statement a little. Truly, there seems no love lost between Graham and his icy wife. She wonders what put it there. She’d never met the woman before today. Graham … he seems to be completely sickened by her presence. With how distant Milah and Rupert are from each other as well, she wonders if it is just the strain of the very institution of marriage.

                Neal and her will never be like that, she vows silently.

                Neal didn’t seem suited to the Gold legacy when she first met him, even though he stands to inherit it all. He had been distant from his entire family, except Graham, for almost two years. She guesses that’s what drew her to him in the first place. His outsider-status met up with hers, even if his wealth put them on different tiers. Now she sees just how nicely her groom meshes with the station and tradition. He is laughing with his sister and mother, easy smile on his face. His family loves him, and he fits.

                She wants to fit, too.

                It had been a whirlwind of only three months, and now his ring sat on her finger as he welcomed her to the higher echelon. She didn’t care about the money, but the big, traditional, perfect family … that was something.

                Now that she sees them all together, she can see that Graham, on the other hand, still doesn’t seem to belong. The alcoholism aside, his features and mannerisms and personality are just intrinsically different, enough to be noticeable. And the way the rest of them interact with him: distant, cool. He is definitely the black sheep.

                Neal had said that his brother takes after his mother, and that was the problem. Rupert Gold had married three times, but Milah was both first and last. His lovely second wife Belle had died just after their wedding, from what Emma understood. Graham had been lucky enough to be born just before it, though scandalously just after the first divorce was finalized, as Neal would whisper with a grin.  

                She idly wonders if Graham thinks it an insult the way his wife seems to blend into the darkly pristine family.

                She won’t put a strain on their relationship by mentioning how much she likes that difference in Graham, and how vaguely disappointed she is that she doesn’t see it anymore in Neal.

                “You look beautiful, by the way,” he whispers.

                She looks up, but he isn’t looking at her. He still looks sad, and she wonders if it is just the drinking. She ignores the way the compliment bolsters her. “Thanks. You’d clean up nicely, if you’d lay off the whiskey for a bit.”

                He huffs a laugh that doesn’t meet his eyes. “Well, guess you’d just have to imagine, then.”

                She poses for the last couple pictures, and doesn’t startle when he takes her hand for a few. Part of her remembers the warm feeling when they’d first locked eyes, and how her grip on Neal had faltered. She remembers the easy way they meshed, the silences that were a little heavier and more meaningful than they should be.

                She loves Neal. She is married to him. She will spend her life with him.

                She needs to stop thinking about his brother.

  *

                  “Your little school-boy crush is starting to wear thin.”

                Graham doesn’t glance up at his wife, and instead continues watching his brother and his new bride posing for the last photos. He doesn’t rise to her bait, though irritation flickers through him. He loves Neal. He would never do anything to hurt his older brother, and that includes hiding his affection for his wife. At least, anything that would be considered inappropriate.

                He’s not surprised that she sees it, though; to manipulate someone, you have to know how to read them.

                She sniffs and leans over the terrace, lips pursed. “She’s pretty enough. In that ‘last call at the dive bar’ sort of way.”

                He half rolls his eyes and picks up his drink, finally turning away. He doesn’t need to defend her. Emma is stunning in her wedding gown, just as she has been in leather jackets and blush pink dresses and flannel pajamas.

                He knows he likes her too much. Beyond just the physical attraction that couldn’t be helped, something in her was just … she matched. And she was such a good person, despite the past that she believes makes her unworthy.

                Which is why he is absolutely pissed at his older brother right now.

                He has always loved Neal. He was the only good one in their dominion. The naïve one maybe, but the good one. Graham had bent over backwards to get Neal away from the family, helped him move as far across the country as possible. Helped to remove him from the sacrifices it meant to be a Gold. Even married first, so Neal wouldn’t feel obligated to add to the family line.

                The less they add to this family, the better.

                For him to do all this and Neal to still bring back this beautiful, strong, innocent woman with the intention to be married … he doesn’t know where he went wrong.

                He wishes he were more callous. Maybe he’d have made a move on her, stolen her away, given her another option. He’d seen it once, in her eyes; if he gave her the option, she might have made another decision.

                But he could never do that to Neal, and he could never do that to Emma. Good matched with Good, and he definitely wasn’t that. No, he likely deserves the marriage he has. And Emma deserves much more than any of them.

                He’d hoped Neal would tell her before the wedding. Graham knows he should have told her, too, but he needs Neal to. There’s still has a chance he will; Neal has until midnight to get her out.

                Prove it to me. Prove to me you’re still the good one.

                “She’ll never be one of us, you know,” Regina says, breaking his thoughts. She plucks the drink out of his hand. She takes a swallow, then stares down at her with her penetrating gaze.

                He sneers. “Of course not, dear. She has a soul.”

                Regina certainly does not.

  *

                  Just past midnight, Emma finds herself with a black box in her hands, at the edge of a strangely shaped table, in between her husband and his brother. Across the table, dark eyes measure her up from every angle.

                She swallows and doesn’t jump when the side pocket clicks out, and she quickly scoops up what was inside.

                Emma looks down at the card in her hand, Hide and Seek in a loopy script. She turns the card to show her new family, a smirk on her face. “Seriously?”

                She’s a little taken aback when her husband doesn’t chuckle along with her. Instead, Neal has gone white as a sheet, staring blankly at the card in her hands before his gaze seeks out his father at the head of the table.

                “Everything … okay?” she asks, a little confused.

                “Ah, yeah,” Neal says, and scratches the back of his neck. A stiff smile suddenly plants on his face. “Of course.”

                Mr. Gold rises with a pleased expression and claps his hands together. “Ah, Hide and Seek!”

                The chair creaks beside her and she turns to her new brother-in-law, expecting at least his weird sense of humor, especially in light of the liters of whiskey he’d been ingesting all day. Instead, his face is grim and resigned, the only time Graham has ever refused to look at her.

                Her brow furrows and she shakes her head, wondering if she’s imagining the anticipatory look on the others’ faces. “Are we really going to play that?”

                Gold smirks. “Those are the rules,” he says jovially, tongue trilling against the ‘r’ slightly.

                She was feeling a little ridiculous as she slides the card back and forth between her fingers. She just wants to tear her designer dress with the million layers off, fall into bed with her new husband, and learn what it means to be a married woman. Everyone is looking at her expectantly, though, and she knows she can’t beg off. At least not yet. “So, then … who hides and who seeks?”

                “It’s your initiation, dearie,” Gold says and stands, grabbing his cane along the way to approach her. “You get to be the one to hide.”

                She doesn’t love his tone, the too-eager glint in his eye. She hates this Games room with the animal heads glaring down on her. She hates the designated chair by the fire that no one can sit in. She especially hates feeling everyone staring at her with bated breath (except for Graham, who still can’t look).

                But she guesses she’s playing hide-or-freaking-seek.

                Hopefully the game will be quick.

                She shrugs and follows her father-in-law. “There’s no way to win, then, right?” she asks.

                Rupert grins. “Stay hidden ‘til dawn.”

                She sniggers and shakes her head. “Ah, no thanks. I get a head start?”

                He follows her chuckle, but it seems darker. “Certainly. Count of a hundred.”

                “Oh, wait,” she says before she leaves, and turns back with her champagne to the others. “To Mr.,” oh, what was his name again, “Uh, Deash?”

                They raise their drinks and grin as they toast back, though Graham is staring blurrily at the table. “To Mr. Deash!”

                *

                  She feels numb when Clara falls to the floor, sputtering from a half intact face. Her breaths come sharp, and her fingers are ice cold as Neal grips her hand.

                It could have been her. It should have been her.

                She hears someone skid into the room, triumphantly screeching, “I did it! I got her, Daddy!”

                “Zelena, you shot the maid!” Gold sharply fires back. “And what were you thinking, aiming for the head? She must be alive for the ritual!”

                “Does she look like she’s in a giant wedding gown, Zelena?” Graham’s voice cuts in sardonically from somewhere further away.

                “Oh,” Zelena says, and Emma can hear the frown in it. “Well, it still counts, right?”

                Emma’s breaths sharpen further. Dead. She’s dead. She was right there, and she’s dead.

                She hears not-too-steady footsteps enter the room. “Yeah, let’s be done with this shit,” Graham says, voice tinged with relief.

                “No.” The venomous voice could only be Aunt Cora. “It has to be the bride. Those are the rules.”

                Those are the rules. The bride. Her.

                She doesn’t pay attention to the rest of the clipped jabber. She just knows now that everything she was expecting, the fitting in, the family, is now gone.

                When they leave, dragging the body away, and Neal ushers her into the servants’ corridor, she turns big eyes on him. “What?” she breathes, unable to form any other syllables. She feels sick.

                Neal’s eyebrows jump up. She sees calculation behind his expression before he begins pleading.

                Tradition. They have to kill you by morning. Babe, I’m sorry, but you wanted to get married. If I told you before, you never would have married me.

                The more he explains, the more her heart sinks. She thinks she has already lost all her love for him in those words, even when she tries. She tries to press her lips to his and feel that same passion she’d felt just hours earlier.

                Did you ever love me at all, she wonders, when he leaves her to turn off the security cameras.

                She doesn’t think she wants to know the answer.

                The bottom of the dress rips under her shaking hands, and she stands on sneakered feet. Stay hidden ‘til dawn, right? Neal is helping her escape. That has to count for something.

  *

                  When she enters the study, she is alone. The fire is roaring, and she hides behind a column as she tries to listen out for the Golds. She took a wrong turn or something. She needs to find the service kitchen, wait for Neal to disable the security system.

                What she doesn’t expect is the hidden door at her side opening, Graham coming face to face with her.

                Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and she knows she must have a crazed look in her eyes.

                His sister just murdered someone, and she thought it was her. This family is trying to kill her.

                Graham’s face is surprised, to be sure, but strangely impassive. His tie is undone and he is holding the strap of a shotgun over his shoulder. He hesitates a beat, and then steps into the room.

                “I just came to get a drink,” he mumbles, and moves slowly to the pool table.

                She can’t steady her breathing, but something in her relaxes. Graham. Her Graham, he tried to tell her, didn’t he? Not too late to flee. He’ll help her. She knows it.

                He crosses to where the open bottle of Wild Turkey is resting. He blinks, lashes skirting across his cheek, and doesn’t look at her as he pours a fifth of bourbon into a crystal glass. “I have to call the others,” he says softly, his accent pooling regretfully around the words.

                “No, Graham, no. You don’t,” she whispers forcefully. Her nails dig into the wallpaper, refusing to move. “No, Graham, please. You can help me.”

                He sighs, such resignation in his whole body. He takes off the gun and leaves it on the table. “This doesn’t end well for you.” He pours a separate glass. “I just don’t want to be the one to serve you up.” He holds it out in offer.

                She is glued to the wall, and her eyes widen even more. No. Graham … he likes her. She can see it all the time. She had almost coaxed the words from him once, in a too-cramped almost-inappropriate space when she had wanted to hear it. Even if he won’t admit it, he likes her. And it’s not just some creepy ‘lusting for his brother’s girlfriend/wife’ situation. It’s real. He likes her. “Graham,” she says forcefully. He’s drunk. He needs to snap out of it. “I’m begging you.”

                He stares downward, the glare of flames flicking across his face and highlighting the perspiration coated over his angular features. He briefly looks at her, before turning his gaze to the painting of his father on the wall. “I’m really sorry about all this,” he says mournfully. “I can give you a ten second head start.”

                She inhales sharply. No. “Graham.”

                He refuses to look at her, but he also refuses to count.

                She wants to scream and shake him. She almost does, but changes her mind last minute. Fuck this, fuck him, fuck everyone. Does she actually know anyone? She runs out the door.

                “One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Two and a half one-thousand.”

                The numbers fade as her sneakers pound against the polished floors, as fast as her feet can carry her. Is he really going to call them to her?

                “She’s in the study!”

  *

                  Regina rushes in with her gun on the ready, but slumps when she only sees her drunken husband.

                “You lost her?!” she exclaims, disgust in her tone.

                Graham swirls the alcohol in his glass and barely nods. He doesn’t look at Regina, bile filling his throat. He swallows it down with the liquor. He sighs. “Indeed.”

                Regina lowers her gun and sneers derisively at him. “You’re pathetic.”

                He raises his empty glass in a toast and nods sharply. “Indeed.” He rises and walks to the decanter, not even glancing back at his wife.

                “You failed. And do you know what happens when you fail, Graham?” He says nothing, and she sets her hands on her hips. “Can you at least pretend to care?”

                He pours another drink and squeezes one hand into a fist. “Do you remember,” he begins, and makes sure his glass full. “When I told you about this?”

                Regina pulls her shoulders back, dark eyes gleaming with loathing.

                He wants to laugh but refrains, and his smile is feral. “You didn’t even blink. You couldn’t wait to sign your soul away.”

                Regina had wormed her way into his life, through lies and guilt and ploys and outright blackmail. But he’d prepared her, told her everything about his family and the game they’d have to play for her to be part of them. He’d told her of the chance, the possibility that they’d hunt her down, sacrifice her to the God of the Underworld to retain their wealth.

                There had been more than a small part of him that hoped she’d pull the wrong card, and he could admit to a flicker of disappointment when she’d pulled chess instead.

                The game has only been drawn twice in his lifetime. He’d only seen it in action once, too young for the actual participation, but he knows full-well what happened that night. Even still, he had hoped to see that loopy script when Regina had turned her card over.

                He knows, ultimately, that he could never be the one to end her, even if he had been prepared to see it through. Maybe that’s why he’s resigned himself to being locked to the woman for life; penance for his past deeds and dark wishes.

                He isn’t prepared to see it through for Emma.

                Regina smiles, cold and sure. “I’d rather be dead than go back to what I was. And you, the fuck-up-lesser-Gold, were an easy out.”

                “Love you, too, honey,” he says sarcastically. Then, with more conviction, he levels his gaze on her. “She doesn’t deserve to die.”

                “That’s not your decision.”

                He chuckles and swallows back his drink. “I hope she kills us all.”

  *

                  “Well, she’s out,” Milah says flatly, watching the dark of the garden from her window.

                Graham smirks and places his gun on the table. “Ah, so. It’s been fun. What do you say, we divvy up the wedding gifts at brunch tomorrow?”

                “Do you think this is a game?!”

                He is slammed into the wall by his father, and he has a flash of fear before he settles back into the detachment. Rupert Gold is usually in control, cold and horrific, perhaps, but rarely quick to act. He sees a sort of madness in his gaze now, and wonders just how far he can push it. He stares into his father’s eyes and can’t help but bite out, “yeah. Hide and Seek, right?”

                He pushes him again and Milah only looks on with her deep green eyes. She pities him, maybe, but she doesn’t speak up. He is not her son, and he is certainly not her golden child.

                Neal and Zelena walk through the door, called by the commotion.

                “Don’t you realize, boy?” Rupert bites out. He gestures to the window. “If she lives until dawn, we all die!”

                He smirks, and shakes his head. He looks to Neal, trying to see if he can discern how safe Emma is by his expression alone. Neal refuses to look at him, and Graham prickles. “That’s what we deserve.”

                Gold levels him with a cold stare. “I want you out of the way. Go take the bodies to the pit.”

                “Zelena, go with him,” Milah urges. Not surprising, since his little sister is the reason the two maids are dead.

                “Ah, clean up duty for the fuck-ups,” Graham mutters, and wonders if he should drink more. He’d probably feel a hell of a lot less. It’s certainly an attractive option when what you feel sucks.

                “But—Daddy,” Zelena whines, but he shushes her.

                “Listen to your mother,” he says dismissively to his youngest, but places a hand on her shoulder and guides her out of the room. “And dearie? Try not to kill anyone else along the way.”

                Graham closes his eyes, wondering if ‘sickened but not surprised’ is his usual state with this family. When they open, his brother is staring. He nods to him, lips in a firm line. Neal will help keep the others away. Emma will get the chance to escape.

                Maybe he actually didn’t fuck it up this time.

  *

                  “Do you really believe that?”

                Graham turns his head to his sister, away from the body of the woman she killed. He feels completely impassive, and he knows without follow-up what she is asking. “Yes,” he says simply, and lugs the body into the pit. “We deserve to die. All of us.”

                “No,” Zelena says roughly. “I don’t. My kids don’t. My kids don’t deserve to die, Graham.”

                For the first time, conflict stirs in him. He considers it a long moment.

                He loves his nephews.

                He doesn’t doubt the curse is real, so, yes, they deserve to be destroyed, all of these damn adults. Generations of this game has passed, and their debt is long overdue.

                But what about the boys? Felix is nine, and Peter is only seven. They are innocent in all this.

                And yet, so is Emma.

                He sighs, unable to say anything to his sister’s point. Then, there is a rustling from one of the stalls. “Peter?” he calls, watching as his nephew pulls himself from the hay, swaying, a welt over his right eye.

                “Peter, baby, what are you doing up?” Zelena cries, and kneels next to him. She rests a hand on his forehead, inspecting the forming bruise.

                “I followed her here,” he says proudly. He lifts his chin. “I shot her with the gun I found.”

                “You—what?” Graham stutters, his blood freezing, horrified. What was Peter thinking? Is she already gone? His mouth goes slack, and he doesn’t know how to process this. He’s seven. “Why would you do that?”

                He frowns and pouts. “That’s what you all were trying to do!”

                Zelena grins and hugs him to her. “Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

                “I’m so proud of you, Graham.”

                He is instantly six years old, shaking and frightened, Milah’s hand on his cheek. Neal is behind him, safe and locked in the closet. He can only stare as his new uncle is dragged into the Games room by his father and grandfather, his screams echoing off the walls. He catches a flash of the man with the blue-flamed hair in the chair by the fire, and his Aunt Cora is drying tears off her cheeks as she abruptly straightens, grip on the dagger tightening by the side of her satin skirt.

                He hadn’t cared, had he? He had seen the bolt lodged in his uncle’s stomach, had heard him begging him to keep quiet. And yet, Graham had still called for the others, told them where he was.

                He let them sacrifice him. It was his fault.

                It was the only time Milah had shown any gentle affection towards him, just like now is the only time he’s seen his sister with any maternal instinct.

                His stomach churns violently, and he has to look away.

                What shade of fucked up is his family?

                “Graham, Zelena!” he flinches at the sound of his father bellowing. “Get back to the house. We’re going to need to start the ritual. Sidney’s found her and is bringing her back.”

                *

                  It’s closer to dawn, she thinks. The stars are still visible and it’s still dark out, but it’s been dark for hours.

                All things considered, she’s been productive if not successful in her attempts to escape.

                She has managed to crash a pot of boiling tea over the butler’s head so she could break out the kitchen door. She has managed to sock that little shit Peter in the face after he shot a hole in her palm. She has managed to crawl out of a pit of dead goats and human skeletons, a nail through her injured hand for her efforts. She has managed to tear through the wrought iron gate and run to the street with only a ripped slash through her side, even if the only result was a tirade of swears at the damned fucker that didn’t stop his car for her. She’s even managed to wake from the tranquilizer dart Sidney hit her with, managed to flip his car into the woods.

                She certainly hopes it’s closer to dawn, with all the shit she’s been through.

                Her head is throbbing as rips herself from the wreck, and feels herself scream more than she actually completes the action.

                Fucking Sidney.

                She has a half second to breathe before there is a rustle in the trees.

                Shockingly, it’s Graham. He is stumbling a bit, hand on his shotgun, cobalt eyes wide in the glare of the headlights. He pauses, and takes in the scene. “Déjà vu,” he says, exasperated.

                “Graham,” she replies, breathless.

                He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know, I came out here to get away from the madness, to get some peace and quiet. Thanks for crashing into it. Kinda shocked, given your shy, delicate sensibilities.”

                “Graham,” she repeats, uneasy smile crossing her face. She can’t even respond to his lame attempt at humor. She remembers the swell of affection that could have been more and knows she isn’t wrong about him. She knows she isn’t. “You don’t want to kill me.”

                He pauses and looks at her seriously, suddenly very sober. His gun is still pointed down, nowhere near facing her. “No, I don’t.” He looks distressed. He shakes his head. “I like you, Emma.”

                He admits it, for the first time. She blinks back tears, and she fleetingly wonders what may have happened if he admitted it before she was married. All his thinly veiled warnings are suddenly clear in hindsight, and she wishes so hard that she had pressed for more detail, either from him or from Neal. She reaches forward, and then immediately drops her hand. “So … so, let me go.” She nods, he will, he likes her. “Okay?”

                “I’m weak,” he says with such conviction, something he’s obviously been told a million times over. He shuts his eyes and gives a short shake. He raises the gun. “I can’t.”

                Her blood runs cold.

                “You’re a good guy, Graham,” she says vehemently, pleadingly. He is, isn’t he? Always. An alcoholic, a little dorky, but good. Glaringly, exceedingly good, she’s felt that. “You’re a really, really, really good guy,” she continues, as if trying to convince him of it.

                “It’s the curse. I—I can’t let my entire family die because of you,” he says earnestly.

                “What, Graham, no. That’s – you can’t really believe that’s true! No one is going to die. It’s bullshit. This whole curse, the whole ritual, its bullshit!”

                “No, it’s not, Emma. I’ve seen it,” he says plainly.

                She wants to rip her hair out and scream in his face. “You’re better than this, Graham!” she argues.

                He looks pained, then almost angry. “I am not who you think I am.”

                She swallows, but doesn’t dare take a step back.

                He chuckles humorlessly and rolls his eyes up. “Neal was the one who got out. If anyone was to save you, it wouldn’t be me. It would have been him.” He stares at her, and his deep eyes are swimming with tears that don’t dare fall. “Just ask my wife. She’ll tell you how heartless I am.”

                The muzzle is at her shoulder, but he isn’t pulling the trigger, and the kick of the powerful weapon would put the bullet in the trees anyway. It’s as if he’s afraid to hurt her. It’s ridiculous, to be fair: she is hurt enough, blood loss making her faintly dizzy, and the dress that she had painstakingly chosen is ripped and stained with violence and dirt and smells strongly of past sacrifices, and that’s not even mentioning that his whole family is trying to kill her. “Graham,” she tries, one last time. “You have a heart.”

                He shakes his head, so utterly mournful.

                Then the shotgun swings instead of fires, and she almost welcomes the blackness.

  *

                  He looks down at the blood-splattered bride, chest heaving. She almost looks peaceful, and he wonders how she can still look so lovely after all that has happened. He swallows thickly, and wishes that things were different. He wishes he was different. But he can’t take the time to consider any of it. His shoulders slump. “You can come out now.”

                His father moves around the trees, looking surprised. He is leaning on his cane, but he doesn’t limp despite the uneven terrain. “You knew I was there?” he asks.

                Graham barely shows his teeth as he puts his gun back over his shoulder. “I’m drunk, not blind.”

                His father grins, shiny and manic, and looks down at Emma. “I do apologize if I startled you during such an … intense conversation, son.”

                He says nothing, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s been in this family long enough; he knows when to shut up and play his part.

                “You did well, for once. Let’s bring her back for the ritual.” Rupert pulls out a coin, heads or tails, to determine how to drag her back up to the house.

                Graham shakes his head and pulls her up in his arms, letting her head rest against his chest. She settles against his heart, her breaths only slightly labored. Her left hand is wrapped in lace, dripping blood, and a gash is visible on her side. He presses his lips together, subconsciously pulling her tighter to him. He grimaces and looks up at his father. “Tradition, right?”

                Gold stares at him a long moment, that deep stare that says he is not seeing his child but someone else. “You’re doing the right thing, son. I always knew you had it in you.”

                Graham raises his brow and gives him a long look but says nothing.

                His father could never lie so well.

    *

                                  She wakes on the table where the game started.

                She is lashed, ropes tied at all limbs. She pulls, and fights against the bonds, but she is properly strapped down and can’t squirm enough to get any leverage. A muffled scream tears through her, and she knows that she is trapped.

                All the Golds stand above her, save Neal. They are cloaked in hooded robes, the patriarch chanting something in Latin. They look unnatural, not the people she’d seen earlier today and had been so willing to let into her heart, flaws and all. These couldn’t be the same people that were going to be her family.

                A silver chalice is being passed around, and she watches as Regina licks a thick line of dark red blood from her lips with anticipatory delight across her face; she looks the most eager to see her dead.

                She finds Graham’s eyes in the midst of it all. They look hollow, the depth of them suddenly endless. He brings the chalice to his mouth, and doesn’t break his stare before it is passed along.

                She wants to scream again around the gag in her mouth, but the ache in her chest says more.

                She had believed in him. Even more than Neal, she had believed in Graham. That realization breaks her heart more than anything else.

                What’s worse is some traitorous part of her that is still screaming to believe in him.

                Gold’s chanting is reaching a crescendo, a call and response from the others. He begins to raise the dagger above his head, and thunders, “hail Hades!”

                Graham is watching with dark eyes, suddenly a bit of life in them. She has only a moment to register it before Gold bubbles up with vomit, blood staining down his fancy clothing. Milah quickly follows suit, and the rest grab their bellies, eyes wide.

                “Poisoned!” Cora shouts accusingly before she doubles over herself.

                “You son of a bitch,” Gold growls under his gagging.

                Graham smirks as he unlaces her binds, and barely ducks away from the weakened swing of his father’s last ditch effort to punch out at him. Everyone else is still retching, diving into corners to keep away from the ceremonial table.

                She goes to work as soon as her hand is free, helping loosen her injured arm as he moves to the ankles.

                He helps her up with an embrace around her waist, hoisting her until she is steady on her feet and they are both running.

                “Did you …?” she asks breathlessly. Did he just kill his family for her?

                He shakes his head. “No, I just gave them a nip. I googled it. They’ll shit weird for a week, but they’ll live.” He pulls her into an enclave beside the staircase and they crouch down to listen for the rest as she watches one of the hooded figures run through the hall, gagging as he went.

                She stares at him, heart tugging. Soft locks curl across his forehead and she has an urgent need to sweep them back. Instead, she smiles. “I knew you’d help me,” she whispers.

                He looks back down at her, as if looking at her for the first time. His face softens, warms, and she falls a little in love with him. “I didn’t,” he replies softly.

                She shakes her head and smiles at him. “See? You have a heart.”

                He cracks a small smile back to her, more genuine than any before it. He shrugs. “All I knew was that someone, at some point, had to burn it all down.”

                She takes a sharp breath, and looks down at her injured hand, wrapped up in lace.

                “I’m glad it’ll be you,” he whispers.

                She’s in his space, gaze locked with his. She wants to tell him that she’s glad it’s him, that he’s the only one with a soul in this damn family, that she wishes she met him first, something.

                He closes his eyes and chuckles slightly, and carefully takes her broken hand in his. “I would have never married you.”

                Maybe it’s the most romantic thing she’s heard in her life.

                *

                    It doesn’t matter.

                In the end, it doesn’t matter that she thinks they made a wrong decision.

                They turn the corner, on the way to the exit, and Regina is at the ready, a gun in her hands.

                Emma freezes, and Graham moves quicker than either woman can think, quickly trading places with her.

                “Graham,” Regina utters harshly, accusation and anger on her breath, dark hair matted to the side of her face.

                Graham shifts quickly, carefully, to block her fully from the brunette’s aim with his body. She disappears behind him, and Emma leans back against the door frame, feeling exhausted and panicked, and she wants so much not to fight any more. She just wants out.

                “Regina, Regina, no,” he demands, though his tone loses its edge with the desperation behind it.           

                “Move,” she demands. Regina stares a long moment, and shakes her head as she glares at her husband. “She has to die.”

                “No,” he repeats and holds one hand out as if the action itself could stop her. “Things have to change, Regina.”

                “You’re leaving me for her.” Regina’s eyes damn with realization. “You really don’t care if I live or die.”

                He holds up his hands, and takes a step forward. “You really don’t have to—“

                The shot rings out and the bullet clips through his neck. Emma isn’t even sure if she cries out as he stumbles to the ground.

                All she knows is that she is enraged, and she leaps forward before Regina has the chance to pull the trigger again. Three shots fire harmlessly into the walls and ceiling before Emma gains control. Coldly, she turns the barrel back to Regina and pulls the hammer. It clicks hollowly, out of bullets, and Regina lunges, but Emma is faster. She slams her with the pistol once, twice until she is on the ground.

                She raises her chin, proud, until she hears a choked gasp behind her. She spins and the gun clatters. "Graham.”

                She falls beside him, fingers going to the thick, warm blood pumping from his neck. She can feel the life draining out of him. “No, Graham!” she says, panicking.

                He has just the right amount of worry, of love still in his eyes but he can barely speak beyond the blood filling his lungs. “Go.”

                “Graham,” she cries, and presses harder. Maybe if she keeps the pressure.

                He weakly grasps her wrist and tugs. “Go,” he chokes out again, barely able to make out the syllable.

                She nods once, hot tears spilling over her cheeks. “Thank you,” she cries and leans her forehead against his. She wobbles to her feet, forcing herself to remember the danger. She leaves him behind.

                She doesn’t look back, but feels like part of her is missing when she rounds the corner.

                So of course that’s when she sees Milah, barely ducking away from the arrow shot her direction. “You don’t deserve this family,” she grinds out, colder than she’s ever been.

                It’s not near over. And now every cell in her body is demanding that she fight.

  *

                  Neal’s face is … lost.

                Emma watches as he approaches her, her good hand soaked with the mixed blood of his mother and Graham and her own. She is still panting, feeling crazy. She drops the box on the ground, and it clatters loudly next to Milah’s body.

                She rises, but doesn’t walk towards her husband. “Neal … I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” It was deserved, but she did just kill his mother.

                But he doesn’t look towards the smashed ruin of his mother’s face. He is like a lost little boy as he aimlessly steps forward. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” he says weakly. His eyes shine with tears. “Graham’s dead.”         

                She stares, wondering if it hurts worse to have seen him dying or to have his demise confirmed now.

                Neal finally looks at his mother, and he shakes his head a little. “You won’t be with me after this, will you?”

                She feels stricken. No. Of course not. Your family is trying kill me, and Graham was the only one really helping and now he’s dead. But she doesn’t answer, not sure where he’s going with this.

                He takes a step forward, and cups her cheek in his hand. She wants to remember what it was like, to feel loved by him, but leaning into it does not make her feel that warmth.

                Cobalt eyes and a gentle squeeze was more than she had ever felt with Neal.

                But maybe this is goodbye, and he is letting her escape like he has promised all through the night, and he is letting her go.

                But then his other hand reaches to her other cheek, and he presses. Hard. Harder.

                “Neal, Neal, you’re hurting me,” she hisses out.

                She watches the exact moment he changes, and he flips around, holding her tight to him. “She’s in here!”

  *

                  This time, there are no hoods. No bindings. No gag.

                Somehow it is even worse to see Neal standing above her, chanting, in the remains of his tuxedo, Graham’s blood splattered across the white of his expensive dress shirt.

                She is held down by the remaining family, even Zelena’s two boys have taken hold of her leg. She should be weak with blood loss, but when she sees Neal raise the dagger, ready to pierce through her heart, she gets the sudden energy to move and the dagger plunges through her shoulder instead.

                She barely registers the pain, too much in too short of time, all on the same damn arm, and she uses the leverage and the shock to yank it out of her. She leaps onto her feet and turns on the family with it raised in challenge.

                She thinks Gold looks the most surprised, mouth open and eyes wide.

                “But—“

                She screams in rage, poising the weapon at a better angle. The family all look perplexed, and Neal’s face is still colored in frenzy.

                “Dawn!” Cora calls suddenly, and they all look out the window in fear.

                The light of day falls on them all, and they cower for a moment until … nothing.

                “Nothing?” Victor asks, then looks around. He points to his wife in accusation and self-righteousness, and Zelena only cowers over the kids. “I knew this was all bullshit!”

                “What do we do with her, then?” Regina bites in.

                Rupert looks confused, and glances to his sister with a shrug of bewilderment.

                Cora shakes. “I know it’s too late, but I won’t fail him. The girl still dies!” she screams and raises her axe.

                And she immediately explodes.

                Emma begins to laugh. She feels like she can’t do anything else as she watches as one by one the family just … combusts. She is soaked with blood and viscera, and can’t stop the hysterical laughter escaping her. Victor, Zelena, Rupert.

                It is an extra feeling of righteousness to see Regina burst after she pathetically pleads for her old life. Emma’s eyes close as she grins at the justice in it.

                Was this winning?

                “Emma, no, Emma.”

                She turns to her husband, the only one left.

                His eyes are wide, crazed, pleading. “No, Emma, I don’t want to die.”

                “Neither did I, you selfish fuck,” she bites out.

                “No, see, you made me better! And—and he’s not taking me! Don’t you see? We can leave together! I can get a do over, and it’s because of you, right?”

                “Oh, Neal,” she says and shakes her head. For the first time since the game began, she feels pity for him. He looks pathetic. She slips off her rings. “I want a divorce.”

                He explodes as soon as the platinum hits him, but she barely looks. She braces herself on the table, and wonders if she should feel more than this … numb.

                She survived. But this doesn’t feel like winning.

                She stumbles out of the room, and then falls, cross-legged, into the middle of the floor. Graham’s body is still in the hallway, hand slack at his neck. She stares a long moment, then crawls to him, cradling her useless arm to her chest.

                He looks asleep, save for the drying blood across his cheek and half-hidden under his fingers. She pushes back the hair on his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispers again, and tears track down to cut through the gore on her face. She has saved herself, ultimately, but would she had even gotten this far without his help?

                “Graham … you have a heart. You’re the only one in your family to claim that,” she says, and brushes back his hair soothingly. She can’t do anything more than that, wrath and betrayal and pain hidden beneath the actual sorrow she feels as she looks down on his face.

                She hears footsteps shadow her into the hall, the smell of ash and sulfur following. She looks up, and there is a figure with blue-flame hair and a nasty grin.

                She stares at him blankly a heavy beat. “Mr. Deash, I presume?”

                His grin widens, and he looks down at the wrecked body in her arms, considering. “Want to play another game?”

  *

                  She wakes back in the Games room, card flimsy but solid in her hand. Her dress is pristine, lace sleeves intact and pure white again. Neal is beside her, Zelena and Victor opposite, Gold at the head, Milah smiling at his side, Regina cool and sneering.

                She looks up, and lastly catches Graham’s eye next to her.

                He has that look, that look of dread and realization, but he is looking at her this time.

                “Emma—“

                “Oh, Hide and Seek!” Rupert exclaims.

                She stands, grateful not to wobble, and squeezes her left hand open and shut a few times. “Those are the rules, right?”

                Her mouth forms a firm line. She will put on a show for Hades, but she will right her wrongs. She’ll win this time.

                Fuck you, Mr. Deash.

  *

                  When the hidden door opens in the study, she is ready.

                She fists her hands in the collar of his shirt and pulls him close. “You remember,” she accuses.

                He swallows visibly and nods.

                “You die,” she says.

                “Yeah,” he answers.

                “They die,” she admits, unsure if he knows. He was gone before it happened. “Neal tries to complete it. I escape. I live ‘til dawn, and they all die.”

                He looks down at her, cobalt eyes catching the reflection of the flames. “Yeah.”

                There is silence a few beats. It feels like a final question. He had been ready to save her before he knew that his family – his parents, his sister, the boys, Neal – they all would die violently. Would he still be willing to save her knowing that they will be wiped out?

                He shakes his head, haunted. “He should have told you before he asked.”

                She nods, quick to agree. They could have avoided this whole night if Neal had told her before he bent on one knee, and they could have all made it out in one piece. “Yeah. You could have tried better to, too, you know.”

                He barely nods, though she can see some doubt in him. “He was always better than me. I wanted to give him a chance.”

                She waits through the heavy silence, grip unfaltering in the heavy fabric of his dress shirt.

                He swallows visibly, and leans down fractionally. “We need to get you out of here,” he says softly.

                She feels her heart twist and swell, affection swirling in her belly. She steps on tiptoes to press a kiss, solid and firm, on his lips, like she hadn’t the chance to the loop before. She falls back to watch his face.

                He is stiff a moment before he takes in a ragged breath, and then his hands press at the small of her back, over untarnished lace and silk, as he yanks her lips to his again, holding her close as he deepens the kiss to shape something more desperate and longing.

                “Do you need a divorce,” he ponders when they part. “When your wife murders you?”

                She inhales and exhales a short laugh. “I don’t know. Do you need one when your husband tries to sacrifice you to Hades?”

                His winces, mirth suddenly gone from his face. She supposes it still feels wrong; he put Neal up on a pedestal for so long, his perfect older brother. She closes her eyes and rests her head on his chest, hoping he takes the apology for what it was.

                “I still wouldn’t marry you,” he murmurs over her head.

                “I wouldn’t marry you,” she counters and peers up with him. She rests her hand over where he bled out, rubbing softly against the whole, unblemished skin. “But I’d be willing to spend some lifetime with you. Like, a lot of it.”

                He smiles at her so gently, and takes her left hand in his, skipping past her rings and brushing over where her bullet wound had been. “First we have to win.”

                Oh, right.

                Murder-family.

                Need to deal with that first.

  *

                  This time, they watch the sun rise over the trees together, on the steps of the sprawling mansion. They share a bottle of scotch, passed back and forth between bloodied hands. She lets him mourn, and she allows herself to mourn a little, too. She can’t cry yet, and she suspects that he can’t quite manage either. It’s fine; they have time.

                She expects they’ll be doing a lot of that: mourning. Shared trauma has a reputation for being long-term.

                 “Shouldn’t I have combusted at this point?” he asks artlessly as he squints into the daylight.

                She sniffs and shakes her head. “That wasn’t the deal,” she answers simply.

                He rests backwards onto the steps with one arm draped over his eyes and coughs hoarsely. He has a bullet hole in his shoulder now, but she likes it a hell of a lot better than one in his neck. “You didn’t tell me why we got a do-over,” he says without accusation.

                She takes a final gulp and then settles next to him. She tugs an arm over his stomach and pulls her body inward, and he takes her automatically closer. She rests her head over his heart and presses her injured hand over his wound. “I didn’t sell my soul, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says dryly.

                He laughs, deep and effortless, and then rocks his forehead on her temple. Sirens scream in the distance, slowly approaching, but neither of them pay it any mind. “Ah, my guess would have been the first-born.”

                She snorts and sighs. She looks up at him, catching his dark blue eyes made darker with the blood of his family covering his face. She uses her thumb to smear off some on his cheek, as delicately as she is able. For all the horror of it, he’s here. So all she can offer is a shrug. “He likes the game. It gave him a second chance to be entertained, which he wouldn’t have had with all the Golds dead.”

                “And you? You won. Why play it again, risk it again?”

                She sits back up and he half follows, leaning up on his good arm.

                It’s a fair question.

                She’s a little worse and a little better this time. Her leg is sliced open from the swing of Cora’s axe, but her side is unscathed. Her hand is still blown through and she still has the wound in her shoulder, mirroring his almost exactly, but she’s without any head injuries from the car crash. Things didn’t happen quite the same, and it was indeed a major risk.

                She stares down at a ring hand that never had time to leave a tan line. “Surviving at this level is different, obviously, but surviving isn’t new for me. All my life, I’ve learned how to survive,” she says softly. She turns to him and sees the light and life in his eyes, and she smiles. “But this time I wanted to save, too.”

                His eyebrows shoot up, and she can read every bit of why me in his gaze without him saying a word.

                “You saved me. I wanted to save you back,” she asserts softly.

                He grabs her hand and pulls her back down into his embrace, waiting for the storm of police to invade the lawn. “That make you my Savior?”

                “Might make you mine,” she counters, and he grins and pulls her down for a kiss laced with iron.

                Maybe she’s found her family after all.

 end.