#so you will hear me complaining about that decision for the next month and about how i have to write the fic now

[hl-obsessed]

.

[monzabee]

a simple favor - s. reid

criminal minds masterlist ||

Summary: spencer has a rather interesting proposal for your monthly problem. 

Pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

Word Count: 0.4k 

Warnings: suggestive comments, talks of pregnancy and hysterectomies (talk about duality), kissing, periods  

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

You didn’t really complain much. Not really, unless there was actually something worth complaining about.  

But this? This called for some serious complaining.  

Spencer had his doubts about leaving you alone when you forced him out of the apartment earlier that morning. He’d hovered near the door, rattling off statistics about dehydration and iron loss until you’d practically shoved him out with the promise that you’d survive a few hours on your own. 

Now, you find yourself seriously reconsidering that decision. Curled up on the couch, a heating pad pressed against your stomach, you let out another dramatic groan. If sheer misery could be turned into an Olympic sport, you are confident you’d take gold. 

When the front door finally creaks open, you barely muster the energy to lift your head. Instead, you let out a pathetic whimper and mumble, “Please tell me you bought some pain killers.” 

Spencer doesn’t even bother setting his bag down before he’s at your side, eyes scanning you like he’s running a full diagnostic. “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor? It’s estimated that around twenty percent of people with periods experience severe menstrual pain, and in some cases—” 

You groan, cutting him off. “It hurts so bad, I’m seriously considering a hysterectomy at this point.” 

He pauses, tilting his head like he’s genuinely considering your words. And then, in the most nonchalant tone imaginable, he says, “I can get you pregnant. That should give you like nine months of relief.” 

Your eyes snap open. “Spencer.” 

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “It’s a scientifically sound solution.” 

You gape at him, torn between horror and amusement. “You did not just suggest pregnancy as a cure for my period.” 

“I mean, technically, it’s not not a cure.” His lips twitch like he’s trying to hold back a smirk. 

With the last ounce of strength you can summon, you swat weakly at his arm. “You’re lucky I’m too weak to fight you right now.” 

Instead of retreating, he sits down beside you, letting you shift until your head rests in his lap. His fingers thread through your hair absentmindedly soothing you without probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing. 

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, eyes slipping shut. 

“And I love you.” His voice is warm, teasing, and when he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, you sigh in something dangerously close to contentment. 

“Next time, just bring me chocolate and shut up,” you grumble. 

“Noted,” he chuckles, but you can still hear the smirk in his voice. 

[peanutalergy]

nine times in less than an hour, spencer complained to himself about his hair getting in his eyes. you were trying to do the paperwork you were assigned, but how could you focus, when all you could hear was the muttered ughs he'd let out every once in a while? after the third one, you started staring at him and laughing to yourself whenever he tried to push his hair back.

he promised you he would cut it, months ago. and even though you didn't see his new knee injury as a good excuse, it's the one he gave you.

you don't really mind the hair; in fact, you find the long bob look quite cute on him. the problem is the convenience of it all. spencer has a hard time taking care of it, and you've had to give him more blowouts than he would like.

you know he just doesn't like going to the barber, so you let it go. eventually, he'll learn he has to do it. for now, you just get up and walk across the bullpen, giggling as you pull back his hair and put it in a bun.

though when you get home and go into the shower together, he asks while he shampoos it, “i should just cut it, shouldn't i?”

the resignation in his voice makes you chuckle, “you should do whatever is best for you, honey.”

he stops for a second, gaze fixed on some spot in the tiling behind you, before he lets out a small exhale, “okay, sure. i'll book an appointment.”

“did you know i took cosmetology in high school?”

“i didn't, no.” he tilts his head, brows furrowed with suspicion and curiosity all over his face.

“do you think the knowledge from back then is still in my brain?”

he has to stop himself from rambling about the permanence of school subjects in adulthood, “what are you trying to say?”

“i could cut your hair, if you want. i know you hate going to the barbershop.”

three seconds seemed to be enough time for him to make a decision, and soon enough, he was sitting at your vanity while you searched for a good pair of scissors.

“you shouldn't trust me as much as you do.” you say with a giggle as you brush through his hair.

“well, how would i trust you in our relationship if i didn't have enough trust in you to cut my hair?”

“those are different ways of trusting, though. just because i might make you bald doesn't mean i'll cheat on you.”

he's about to say something else, but the scissors make a snipping noise that makes you nervously laugh after you make the first cut.

he gives you a reassuring smile when you look at his reflection in the mirror holding the 5 inches you just took off his hair, “as long as you don't end up taking too much off the top, there's really nothing you can do to screw it up, angel.”

“no, no, i didn't take too much off, just…” you shake your head with a small snicker as you look at the light brown lock in your hand, “this gave me a weird deja vu of when i got drunk and chopped all of my hair off in college.”

he laughs while trying to keep as still as possible when you go in with the brush again, “you do look like you know what you're doing.”

“i don't, not really.”

you're not sure whether to be offended or not when hotchner makes a joke about his hair the next day.

you giggle shyly at spencer from across the table when you hear, “what, did you join a boyband?”

[ilguna]

☼ plinth legacy pt2 (Coriolanus Snow) ☼

summary; in the weeks leading up to your wedding, Coriolanus hasn’t been himself. ma is chalking it up to nerves, but you know a guilty conscious when you see one.

warnings; swearing, betrayal, death mention, grief, still an arranged marriage.

wc; 3.4k

part one

--

“(Y/n), my dear,” Ma begins, brushing imaginary dust from her long burgundy skirt. “Would you like to start your plan from the beginning?”

You watch her gingerly take a seat in the lounge chair next to Pa, neatly folding her hands in her lap, waiting for you to begin. Your eyes flicker around the room, going from face to face to see the expressions of those who are watching you.

Your family is calm, patient and eager to hear what you have planned for the wedding. Most of them are curious on what the next Plinth wedding will look like, especially since it’s taking place in the Capitol, with a boy from a different background than your own.

His family is a little more unnerving. Grandma’am—as Coriolanus calls her—has been complaining since she stepped foot inside of your home. Whether it be the temperature of the house, the way it’s furnished or what she’s been served by the avoxes. 

This was expected from her, Coriolanus warned you she would be cranky leaving the penthouse. And you remember from your brief counter last year that she wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around. You would’ve rather spent time with that Dr. Gaul Coriolanus has told you so much about. 

As for Tigris, she’s been pretty absent. You’ve tried your best extending invitations to her with every appointment you’ve made. She’s responded to a few of the letters, but she doesn’t come to most of the venues. From what you’ve noticed, she usually feels more comfortable tagging along if Coriolanus isn’t involved.

It may be because she feels like she’s overstepping. 

Coriolanus has been distant, too. You thought he’d had more of an opinion during the planning process of the wedding, but he’s more than happy to go along with what you want. Which is out of the ordinary for him.

Your eyes fall to the book in front of you, fingers carefully pulling up the brightly colored cover. As you go to flip it open, your eyes snap to Coriolanus, who's sitting on your right. You hope he’s been paying enough attention these past couple of months, because Pa’s going to have a lot of questions that he’ll be expecting Coriolanus to answer.

You swallow dryly, skipping past the first couple of blank pages at the beginning. You hate giving presentations at the Academy, and this is no different. In fact, it’s worse because Pa is the one analyzing every decision you’ve made thus far.

“Well, starting with a date, we were thinking late spring.” You murmur, playing with your nails. “The flowers will be in bloom, making it the perfect time to create specialty bouquets for table arrangements and bridesmaids. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for an outdoor wedding.”

“What if it rains?” Pa asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I’d like to have the wedding in a greenhouse.” You tell him.

“Where?” Grandma’am asks, ���Certainly not in the Snow penthouse. I won’t have you ruining my roses.”

Coriolanus shakes his head. “No, we’re planning to have it at the botanical garden in the heart of the Capitol. We weren’t sure if that idea would work out at first, but I made a trip to talk to the floral coordinator early yesterday, and she said that they don’t normally hold weddings but they’d make an exception.”

A smile fights its way to your lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Coriolanus says, reaching over to hold your hand.

He squeezes your fingers, when you look at Pa, he gives you an approving nod, telling you to continue. “I was thinking May, Coriolanus suggested as early as April but I would like it to be warm out.” You flip to the next page in the book. “When it comes to invitation cards, we’ve gone back and forth on what they should look like.”

You pull out the most recent example card that the vendor gave you to show Pa. You flip it around, holding it out to allow everyone to see. 

The truth is that you can’t decide what the cards should look like. You’ve changed the color of the square of paper about a dozen times now. You wanted to try white, but it seemed too pristine and made the black lettering bolden. You tried a gentle pink, trying to call for springtime colors, but it seemed to feminine.

So far, all you’ve seemed to like is the yellowy-beige color, which was suggested by Coriolanus, thankfully. He was watching you drive yourself crazy trying to decide something so simple, which is why you shouldn’t be given the entire workload, but it’s too late to change that now.

There’s a black stamp on the invitation of a rose with a stem and thorns, a move you made because you were hoping it would make Grandma’am happy. The look on her face right now is hopeful, she doesn’t seem to have any prominent emotion from what you can see.

It has yours and Coriolanus’s full names in a nice cursive that reminds you of Ma’s handwriting, and below it is the boring details of when the wedding will be taking place. There’s a large gap on the paper where you’re supposed to fill in where the venue will be, which you will fill out fully later tonight, after you’ve received the feedback from your guests.

“This looks nice.” Ma carefully plucks the card from your hand, holding it out in front of her to get a better look. “Are you planning on writing the invitations yourself or having them printed?”

You hesitate, “Well, as much as I’d like to handwrite these, I don’t have the time.” You start, shaking your head a little. “Coriolanus is at University, so he’s focusing on his studies right now. So I’ve already taken a lot of the responsibility of planning on my plate. And with how many people are on the guest list…”

“Oh, I could write them for you.” Ma waves her hand, the relief goes through your body instantly. 

“Thank you.” 

“What will the thank you notes look like?” Ma asks.

“I haven’t gotten there yet.” You tell her, “I’m working from start to beginning, so I’ll be there soon.”

“We should meet together next week to figure it out.” Ma nods, “I’m going to keep this.” She places the card on a side table, and then returns her attention back to you.

“The next part we have figured out is the attire.” You tell them, flipping the page in the book to show the concept drawings you had for Tigris regarding the bridesmaids outfits. 

And, of course, your wedding dress.

This is the part where Tigris really came to life to help you. As soon as you mentioned getting her opinion on what you’d drawn up, she started to make a plan to come and see you the same day. 

When you sat down with the bridesmaids, all you told them was to give you an idea on what style they like, and you’d figure out a way to put it into a concept. The only rule you had was that it needed to be a long dress, but it wouldn’t fall below their ankles. 

When Tigris saw that you’d done most of the work for her, she perked up. She liked the fact that you wanted to go for simple dresses with pastel colors, something that would compliment the dress you had in mind. And even though you weren’t planning on asking Tigris to make the dresses, she told you she’d get them started immediately.

You stopped her, trying to tell her she didn’t have to, and you weren’t trying to make her do that. You had a seamstress in mind, you’d done a lot of research and window shopping downtown, trying to find one that you liked. But Tigris told you that she wanted to do this for you. And while she was at it, she’d make her own dress.

She ruined your plan a little, because you wanted to ask her to be your Maid of Honor at a dinner you were planning. You had no choice but to ask her then, you didn’t want her to start on a dress she wouldn’t be wearing. You know her, she’d make something better for herself for such a title.

She accepted, of course. 

“Tigris has done most of the work when it comes to putting the dresses together.” You tell them. “I don’t have pictures, just concepts of the bridesmaid dresses. As for the tuxes for the groomsmen, I’ve scheduled an appointment for them to get fitted downtown. Coriolanus will be leading that.”

He nods. “It’s two weeks from now, sir. I would like for you to come if you had the time.”

Pa looks at the calendar on the wall for a moment. “I’ll have to look in on what I have planned that day.” He turns his attention to Tigris. “How long will it take for you to complete the dresses?”

“I should be done by March.” Tigris tells him with a smile. “If I had more time, I would do the tuxedo’s, but I’m starting at a boutique later that month. It’ll consume most of my time.”

“I see.”

You give Pa a moment to think before you keep going. “The only part I haven’t planned out fully is the actual wedding. We were waiting on a venue to respond to us.”

“She was also hoping for the botanical garden.” Coriolanus says. “Since it’s confirmed now, I’m sure we’ll be able to tour where we’ll be set up and choose tables, chairs and arrangements soon.”

Pa stares at your book, “Well, it appears as though you’ve figured most of it out.”

“We’re still working on catering and the flavor of the cake.” You tell him.

“Which we will have an answer for soon.” Coriolanus chimes in.

At this, Pa gets to his feet, watching Coryo. He slowly rises as well, the grip on your hand loosening until he has to let go altogether. Pa extends a hand for Coriolanus to shake, and the two of them hold on for a long moment.

“If either of you need anything, you’ll contact me immediately.”

“We will.” Coriolanus tells him.

Pa lets go, “I’ll arrange a car to take your grandmother and cousin home.”

“Thank you.” Tigris says. “You really don’t have to.”

“It would be impolite not to.” Ma tells her. “Can I ask you a few questions about the dresses you’re making?”

“Of course.” Tigris gets up from where she’s sitting to follow Ma off to the side. Tigris originally offered to make her a dress as well, but Ma is set in her ways. You warned Ma that if she changed her mind then she needed to let Tigris know as soon as possible so she could prepare to arrange her timeline. 

Grandma’am doesn’t move from where she sits, so Pa goes to talk to her. She’s in charge of the Snow household, despite the fact that her memory is going. He does it out of respect for Coriolanus, because he knows how much she means to him. Mostly because you’ve warned Pa.

Speaking of Coryo, he stands beside you for a second or two, before slightly bending down to speak to you. “I’m going to grab myself a drink in the kitchen, would you like anything?”

“I’ll just come with you.” You tell him, rising to your feet.

You let him lead the way, following him quietly. He knows he can help himself to what’s in your parent’s fridge, but he still waits for you to open the doors and hand him a soda. You don’t grab anything for yourself, you basically had a whole pot of tea to yourself earlier because Ma and Grandma’am were too engrossed in conversation. And Tigris doesn’t like tea, she just took a cup to be polite.

“I think that went well.” Coriolanus murmurs, popping the can open.

You hum, crossing your arms over your chest. “Pa seemed happy. I wish you would’ve told me about the garden, we could’ve stopped by again this afternoon so we could take a look around.”

“They closed early today.” He makes a face. “I thought about it—I even asked, but she said that we would have to come back on Monday.”

Three days away. 

“It shouldn’t set us back too bad.” Coriolanus says, as if he’s reading your mind.

You shrug, you have months until the wedding. The only factor you have to be worried about is receiving the furniture in time. Since the Hunger Games aired, the districts have been tense and rebellious, unwilling to fall in line. You can’t blame them, of course. If you were still in Two, you’d be giving the Capitol hell.

Except, you’re on the other end now, and Pa won’t stand for the wedding being delayed any further than spring. You were going to see how long you could push it back for, hoping that he’d change his mind and let you make the decision on your own, but he’s got bigger plans.

Pa said that if you’re not married by the summer, then he’d figure something else out for you, and you wouldn’t have an input on it. So, you folded and chose the spring. You’d much rather be married to Coriolanus, and not some nobody you’ll meet for the first time when he lifts your veil.

“I’m not worried about it setting us back. We have plenty of time, I made sure of it.” You tell him.

Coriolanus’s eyebrows twitch, confused. “You made sure of it?”

“Well, I did it for my own sake, because an arranged marriage so soon after my brother’s funeral is a little sickening. And you seem to be on the fence about the idea, too.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sure that I want to marry you, (Y/n).”

A rush of heat spreads through your stomach, you ignore it. “Are you sure? You haven’t been acting like yourself recently, at all. Normally, you’re more… dominant when it comes to making decisions, and yet you haven’t had a single opinion on what I’ve done so far with the wedding—our wedding.”

“That’s because I’m happy with what you want.” Coriolanus says. “If I had an opinion, the wedding would be too traditional and boring for your taste.” He reaches to move a hair out of your face. 

“You’re not entirely telling the truth.” You tilt your head to the side. “You haven’t been the same since you came back from District Twelve. I saw it in your face but I thought I was wrong.” You stare at each other for a long second, and then you begin to speak softly. “I know how hard Sejanus’s death was, but it seems to be affecting you the most.”

Coriolanus shakes his head again, looking off to the side.

“Is it because he would’ve been your best man?” You ask, reaching for him.

“It’s not that.” Coriolanus says, a little too harshly.

You open your mouth, and then close it, hand dropping back to your side. You watch his face, the way the anger slowly dissipates. When he sighs, he reaches for his blonde curls, pushing them away from his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I see.” 

“See what?” Coriolanus asks.

“You’re guilty of something.”

He pales slightly, “What would I have to be guilty about?”

“You aren’t the same person as you were before.” You squint at him, beginning to problem solve out loud. “I’d say it would have something to do with Lucy Gray, but that doesn’t seem right. It has to be Sejanus.”

Coriolanus shakes his head. “I haven’t changed.”

“It’s strange you were discharged so soon and honorably.” You pause, watching as he begins to resemble a blank sheet of paper. “How my driver had to drop you off at Dr. Gaul’s lab under special instruction.”

“(Y/n), we should not have this conversation here.”

“No, you’re going to tell me what you’ve done, or I’m going to tell Pa to call off the arrangement.” You threaten. “Grandma’am can kiss her penthouse apartment goodbye.”

Coriolanus stares at you in shock, his eyes flicker to the doorway behind you, checking to make sure no one is there. He lowers his voice, “You have to understand, District Twelve was not as simple as it sounds. Sejanus and I found that out after the first few times we went to the Hob. It’s a warehouse in the Seam—the poor part of Twelve.”

“Okay…?”

“Sejanus got himself wrapped up in rebels. We got caught in a situation regarding Lucy Gray and the people she knows, and a couple people ended up dead.” Coriolanus hesitates. “A couple days later, Sejanus and I were caging jabberjays and I accidentally recorded him talking about a rebel plan. He wanted to break a prisoner out of Capitol custody and live in the woods between the districts.”

“It wasn’t an accident.” You say. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I was about to be moved to officer training in District Two.” Coriolanus tells you. “I didn’t want to be wrapped into what he was doing. I sent the bird to the Capitol knowing that Dr. Gaul would play the recording attached to it and hear what Sejanus said.”

You can feel yourself grow distant, soul leaving body. 

Coriolanus did this. He killed your brother. He’s the reason why you’ll never be able to see him again. Your brother, the only person in this world that knew you from the inside out, that could make you smile on the worst day. The only person that knows what it was like to grow up in a district.

All because Coriolanus didn’t want to discourage his behavior.

You suck in a breath of air, hands balling into fists at your sides, contemplating giving him a black eye.

“He was a traitor.”

“He was your friend.” You tell him, body feeling as if you’ve set it aflame. “He was my brother. Did you ever consider talking him down instead? Remind him he had a family back home?”

“I tried, (Y/n). He was on the right track for a little. He thought that he’d be able to keep his head down to get through training so he could become a Peacekeeper, but he couldn’t let it go.”

“I’ve cried to you about his death.” Your face twists. “I grieved with you. Or at least, I thought I did.”

“You did.” Coriolanus reaches to grab you.

You slap his hands away, holding a finger up. “Do not touch me.”

“He was a brother to me.”

“Clearly not if you got him killed.” Tears well up in your eyes. “Did you even sprinkle the bread on his body?”

Coriolanus shakes his head, eyes falling to the ground.

You begin to breathe heavily, holding back the urge to wrap your hands around his neck to strangle him. You know you have to think of the consequences. If you were to kill him now, you’d be sent away, yourself. Unless Dr. Gaul intervenes and kills you for getting rid of her best student.

You can’t believe he’s studying under her.

“Is everything okay in here?” Ma’s voice comes through behind you.

Coriolanus’s eyes snap up, watching your face, seeing the murderous rage. You press your lips together, taking in a deep breath as you turn around to look at Ma, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Her face drops. “What’s wrong, honey?” 

“(Y/n).” Coriolanus whispers under his breath. “Please.”

You force a smile to your face. “Coriolanus just told me he’s giving me his mother’s ring.” You lie. “Isn’t that great?”

Ma places her hands over her mouth in disbelief, eyes lighting up. “Oh!”

When you turn to look back at him, he seems relieved, but his body is still tense, as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s right to be expectant, because you mouth, “You owe me for the rest of your life.”

[wingsofthesun]

Some Ashley moments from the first visit to the Citadel that show off some interesting characterization that aren't that one line because that's all people talk about!

First off, another idle line from the Presidium (I wish these were still in 2 and 3 in addition to the longer conversations)

Ashley immediately picks up on the fact that there's something off about the Citadel. She's the only one that brings it up, and she's right- the Citadel is too perfect because the Reapers created it as a trap. No one has anyway of knowing that fact yet, but she does have a finely tuned bullshit meter.

Next, the first elevator conversation! Ashley does not in anyway, shape, or form trust Udina. She also has another line I didn't manage to screenshot about not trusting politicians.

(Yes, I know she defends Udina from Shepard during the coup, but the timing was suspicious- they were being pursued by Cerberus, and who comes out but Shepard, who was working with them only ~six or so months ago? Keep in mind she (or Kaidan) was also trying to defend the rest of the Council, and it's also very easy to get her to stand down of her own accord if you go visit her in the hospital and aren't a complete asshole.)

When Shepard brings up Garrus while discussing leads, Ashley speaks positively about tracking him down. She met Garrus at the same time Shepard did, and knows full well he's a turian. She's more than willing to work with him, and raises no objections to his presence until he's on a top of the line, experimental Alliance ship, in which case I understand questioning Shepard's decision. (For what it's worth, she has to be prompted into bringing up her concerns, unlike XO Pressley, who will complain the first time you speak to him before you even get to the dialogue options.)

Another idle line! As we find out in the endgame, her tactical observations are 100% correct. They're indeed good defensive positions for the defenders.

This is after talking to Harkin, who tries to bring up Anderson's failed spectre training with Saren. (I have Shepard basically say "shut up, I don't care, just tell me where Garrus is you asshole" for the record.)

Right before this, Kaidan says "Harkin is an ass" and says they shouldn't trust what he says. Ashley agrees, but doesn't immediately write it off. Instead, she wants to hear from Anderson himself, the person that was actually involved. She's willing to hear him out despite her suspicions.

That's all I have screenshots of, unfortunately. There's also a scene where if you take her and Garrus to confront Fist and talk the two warehouse workers down and let them leave, Garrus will say he never thought about talking armed threats down, and Ashley will say that sometimes shooting isn't always the answer. I didn't realize this line existed unfortunately so I didn't get it in time, but it's still really interesting if you ask me!

[rieamena]

three and five

ken sato—

wc: 1.6k contains: afab reader, smut, fluff, lots of kisses, petnames (reader uses fem!aligned ones), breeding kink, mating press, multiple positions, both you and kenji being whipped for each other, marriage of 8 years, you have kids together (6 year old twins), you call ken daddy once (im sorry) author's note: first smut was ken sato, second was billy kid, this time its ken sato again and i will say that what they say is true. the third time is really the charm. idk what possessed me while i was writing this but i wanna say a big thank you to whatever did nsfw ,, mdni

"oh, my beautiful wife~" kenji sings, plopping down next to you on the couch, head finding immediate comfort in your warm, plush thighs. this is how days spent without the kids usually went, your special set of twins spent the day (and night) at ami's, playing and complaining about homework with chiho, leaving you and your husband of eight years to unwind and spend some alone time together. "yes, my lovely husband?" a hand raked through his hair, massaging his scalp. ken lifted your unoccupied hand, pressing a kiss to it before using it to cover his eyes, the entire action painfully slow. from kenji's point of view, you're more than an angel on earth, you're his faith, his belief. words cannot express how grateful he is to you for choosing him—for staying with him— despite all the challenges

"i love you." three short words that held all the meaning in the world. your husband made it a habit to tell them to you everyday without fail. like that night five months after you moved in together when he was dealing with yet another kaiju attack. he rushed out of the house, powering up into ultraman, but he didn't forget to stop by the window where you watched on. how could he? ken pointed at himself, then formed a heart with his hands, before finally pointing at you. even though his body physically looked different, and you couldn't see his pretty, expressive face, you knew with every fiber in your body that he was grinning widely. or that time when he woke up at 11:58 pm and shook you awake for a minute to tell you that he loved you one more time just before the clock hit twelve. but despite all of that, all of those i love yous, this one felt different. "i love you so much." at this rate, you were starting to get suspicious. when you tried to remove your hand, ken held it against his eyes firmly

"are you crying, or just embarrassed?" "can you say it back." "i love you too, ken sato." "i love you more, mrs. sato."

kenji's face was now pressed against your stomach as you rubbed circles into his back. a series of mmphs were heard along with the vibrations of your tummy. "sweetheart, i can't hear you." "right," ken said as he pulled himself away, pecking your stomach goodbye, "i was just saying how i read an article that said three is a really good number. things that come in three are easier to remember," you felt ken's head rest between the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you habitually brought your hand to his hair. "and five is also a nice number," he continued, "it's nice to look at in terms of objects, and it's clear to see if something's missing, and—" "i have a feeling this is no longer about numbers." you cut him off, looking deeply into his eyes

"our babies could use another sibling, no? i'll go with whatever decision you make, angel. do you want another baby?" "maybe…" "can i… fill you up?" "always."

"i'm gonna give us another one," kenji mutters against the back of your thigh, his thin hands pushing them to your chest, "don't waste a drop, okay?" you nod your head feverishly, gasping when his length settled into your dripping cunt. "oh f-fuck…" he moans, not only gripping tightly onto your body but also to his sanity, "you-you're so good, 's been too long, baby." you and ken have barely been able to have sex for six years, dealing with the combined stress of two children. and the last time you two did try something, you both ended up passing out less than halfway through. "can't believe i forgot how good your dick is," you mewled, feeling like it was your first time with kenji all over again. at the sound of that, ken began to move his hips, sliding in and out of you painfully slowly. "i'll make sure that never happens again, doll." a few movements passed before you felt a liquid filling you up. "ken," your hand met his face, bringing it up to look at you, his eyes shrouded in embarrassment as he came so quickly, "the more times you cum inside, the better, okay?" sharp dark eyes met yours, and ken shook his head, breathily chuckling, "you're really something, y'know that?" the sudden snap of his hips against your thighs made your body jolt. his face flushed a slight pink, deepening intensely when he heard your moans and giggles of pleasure

god, he loved you. you and your cunt that never failed to suck him so good, those gummy walls that always squelched and spasmed at the right time, pleading for it to be painted white. his hand trailed to your sensitive clit, prodding it with his thumb, harshly rubbing circles into it. "w-wait—" you gasped, feeling his length leave and enter you with a newfound quickness. "kenj—ah! oh f-fuck, baby, i'm gonna—" your moans got obnoxiously loud as he pounded into you, cock getting impossibly harder as he listened to your sweet voice call out his name so lewdly. "gonna cum?" "mmm! feels s-so good. you're—mmm, yeah, just like that…, made for m-me, ken…" it was embarrassing how cute kenji found you, your brain used up all of its power to make coherent sentences just for it all to be about him and how good his cock made you feel. "this is also made for you." he breathed raggedly, moaning your name uncontrollably as he felt his seed escape his slit and settle into your welcoming walls. at the same moment, you clenched around him, sucking him in even tighter than before, legs shaking and chest heaving. kenji looked down at your state, rubbing hands over your body to bring you down. to ken, you're always the prettiest girl, especially at your post-orgasm state. "you're makin' it so hard to not destroy you right now." it was so light, ken could barely hear it: "please destroy me. make me carry more of your babies. kenji, breed me."

throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, kenji pulled out briefly, just to slap himself against your entrance and slide right back into you, dick already missing the warmth of being buried inside of you. one hand held your leg in place, the other was stationed at your waist, its grip so tight, it—amongst other places—would without a doubt be bruised by the morning. suckling on your chest, ken pulled and pushed out of you slowly, in order to not overstimulate you too much, but a single tear fell from your eyes and that was all he needed. "fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK KENJI—" your string of curses could be heard throughout the neighborhood. you've been pounded by ken before but never like this. it couldn't be called fucking, no, he was making love to you. he took your body into his like a carnal desire. his tip was hitting places you didn't even know you had, making tears well up in your eyes and fall seconds later

"stop that baby, i'm supposed to be the one pleasuring you." ken said in between soft kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and lips, moving the hand you snaked to your sensitive bud. lacing his fingers with yours, kenji felt his mind go blank, feeling your walls adjust to remember his dick. he was moving, not only because he wanted to but because he felt like he had to. if he stopped even for a second, he might go insane. "mmm-more, please, i nee-need m-more…," you squeezed his hand nearly at the same time your pussy clenched around him. "fuck, angel, ah–! 'm gonna, 'm gonna, 'm so close… please pleaseplease…" he begged for you, thighs shaking and spasming as he heard your voice say those sweet five words, "give it to me, daddy." ken's vision went white, matching your walls. as he reluctantly pulled out of you, he closed his eyes, relying on his sense of touch to soothe him. he felt all over your body, his touch like fire against your skin. nimble fingers teasing over your shoulders, then breasts, waist, hips, and thighs. he even lifted you up slightly to get a feel of your ass. a warm liquid dribbled out of your core and onto kenji's thigh, your mind was unbelievably hazy, barely registering how your own body betrayed you

"kennn, come back to me," you whined, caressing his bicep with your hand as if to coax him out of his trance, "it was jus' too much, i couldn't keep it all in. 'm sorry…"

"i told you not to waste any of it." ken spoke against the shell of your ear, "guess i'll just have to give you more then," his voice was cracking, and you could hear his small whimpers and moans escape as he talked to you, "how many more loads do you want, love?" his thick and veiny cock rested atop your tummy, deathly overstimulated yet begging for more. he wanted nothing more in that moment than to fully submit himself to you; he was yours and yours alone. weakly holding up a finger, you looked away embarrassedly causing your husband to laugh, "one? nah, i'll give you three. it's a special number, remember? our special number…" he pressed a deep kiss to your lips, thrusting back into you sharply, practically pushing his cum out of your fucked out pussy, long forgetting the sanity that he tried so hard to grasp onto

"get ready princess, we'll have another little one to take care of very soon."

divider by @/cafekitsune

ken sato taglist

@mochminnie @despacito-uwu16 @yellowheartz @ririkacchi @ifharbingerbad--whyhot 

@reit0o @heavenlyraindrops @lovingyeet @stickypaperstarlight @raee-dreeaaamz 

@rreasonablydumbb @bandolls @gingersnap126126 @automalvo @spiderboogie 

@shellspider @blogscach @nightingale047 @deadbydad @deadbydad-writes 

@phantomface @spencerrxids @moonjellyfishie @optimisticladysalad @tsumimimi 

@purplegobrrrrrr @sillybillyp9 @cyberpsiko @swaggyv1v1 @l-charl 

@miffysoo @aise-30 @bakugouswaif @rinaizha @goodomenslover20

@biderman-666 @jaowiwh-blog @lazulihrts @meloncreme @woahhajime

@theboredhooman @pr0bablyr0se @jinshikinoku @sxftiebee @your-left-sock 

@teyamswifeyy

[belli5]

No one noticed — Chunkz

Pairing: Chunkz x f!reader

Warnings: toxic relationship, crying, break up etc.. based on this request. Please reach out to someone, if you’re in a toxic relationship. this is short :(

Summary: in which, y/n breaks up with her bf and Chunkz is there to comfort her.

A/n: i chanced it up a bit, where reader breaks up with her bf because ain’t nobody breaking up with her first 😛

Masterlist

It was finally over. You finally broke up with your boyfriend, the one you went to the same high school with and after graduation you both met again and started talking.

But lately, these past few months he would constantly tell you how you’ve changed since you became famous after graduating, your both arguing it became an daily routine. There was no day you two wouldn’t argue. He’d always complain how you would spend more time with the beta squad, than him, but he had met them so you didn’t see the problem.

It hurts. There’s more to me than just spending time with them, like I think I spend a lot of time with Jay, if I’m honest..

You tried telling him that you enjoy spending your time with them and you can’t just drop your friends for him and if he thinks you’re gonna do that because he doesn’t like it, then he was wrong.

If there was no trust in your relationship, you don’t see the relationship going anywhere.

It obviously wasn’t the best feeling to go through, especially when you have known him since school times, you didn’t wanna tell anyone right now that you had broken up.

All you wanted to do was sit in your room, alone and cry, even though right now it doesn’t feel like the right decision to break up, but you know later you will thank yourself for it. You wouldn’t have to hear him complaining about everything that made you happy.

Hearing your doorbell ring wasn’t what you wanted or needed right now, going to the door and opening seeing Chunkz was last thing you expected.

Chunkz seeing you cry, it broke his heart seeing his best friend crying about something. “What happened?” Chunkz asked, as you let him in obviously.

You sat both down on the couch next to each other, you didn’t know if you wanted to talk about it right now, but you knew if you told someone, your heart wouldn’t feel so heavy.

Chunkz didn’t push it, he patiently waited for you to talk, he knew you’d talk about it once you’re ready. But he wondered what made you hurt so much? Even though it was yourself who did it..

“Today..” you began, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I broke up with my boyfriend.” Your tears falling and wetting his shirt.

Chunkz was surprised when you said that, but he didn’t say anything, he just put his arm around your shoulder for comfort.

“I just couldn’t deal with the daily arguments..” You said, trying to wipe your tears away “and not to mention, he’d always have something to say about me hanging out with you guys..”

You thought everything just sucked.. Chunkz noticed how your mood would change anytime you were on the phone with him or even just texting.

“It gonna be ok.” Chunkz tried to comfort you, even if it may not help right now, but he knew later you’d be way happier than before when you were with him.

“I noticed.” Chunkz says, “You deserve to be with someone who wouldn’t act that way. Your future husband, wouldn’t tell you with who you can hang out or can’t.” After he said, he realised maybe that wasn’t what you needed to hear right now, but still you would have to realise it in one way or another.

“I don’t want a relationship,” you cried, “I don’t think I want anything right now..”

“That’s fine.” He said, “But one day you will realise, that there’s things already right infront of you.” You didn’t know what he meant by that, but maybe he was right, whatever that meant.

You pulled yourself up from Chunkz, sitting straight up to face him, Chunkz wiped your tears from your cheeks and the ones that were right under your eyes.

“Look, I don’t want you to cry over some prick who doesn’t know how to treat a woman.” Chunkz said as you laughed at the name he called your ex. Chunkz smiled when he got a laugh out of you “and out there, there’s someone waiting for him, someone who is just like him.”

“Thank you.” You said, you truly were thankful “I didn’t know I needed shoulder to cry on till you got here.” The tears now were starting to dry on your skin, but still tearing a bit up at the thought, but you could hold them back.

“Of course.” He smiled at you.

“I just feel like I’m so stupid.. I should’ve known from the start” you say, fidgeting with your hands

“No you’re not” Chunkz said, not wanting you to feel that way “you just didn’t know.”

You went in for a hug, a hug you needed from someone. “Thank you for noticing everything.” You said.

“Hm?” Chunkz said, not hearing you the first time.

“No one noticed, but you.” You repeated yourself.

[plus-i-miss-you]

I LOVED THE OREKOTO AND MIKOTO HEADCANONS AUUAU!!! If it's not a bother, could you pls write a prisoner gn!reader comforting mahiru, fuuta, mikoto and amane after t2? Sorry if this is too vague !!

Seeing them all tired and beat up made me miserable... they deserve a kiss on the forehead or smth

▷ listening to:

"but i still forgive you" (gn!reader)

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılıㅤ

♪ note: HI HI ELI so sorry this request has been gathering dust in my inbox for more than a month.. i really wanted to write this but life be life-ing.. i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading this too! (also so sorry if i sound weird but i'm assuming you meant comforting them after t1? ^^'')

♪ summary: es may have done some.. pretty strange decisions and now not only the guard and the guilty prisoners, but everyone has to deal with it, including you. you can't help but feel bad for the guilty ones, and hopefully, you can offer them at least some kind of support.

♪ warnings: description of fuuta and mahiru being in pain because of their injuries, the reader character doesn't know about mikoto and john being a system, but still treats them as respectfully as possible, mentions of cults and religious trauma in amane's section. fuuta, mahiru and mikoto parts can be seen as both romantic and platonic, meanwhile amane's part is strictly platonic.

fuuta kajiyama.

♪ fuuta was.. in terrible condition, to say the least. his personality was so different from the fuuta you knew, too. sure, you've met him not so long ago, but seeing him act like this felt.. weird. you actually kinda missed the old fuuta, yes, he was kinda rude, loud and said things without thinking, but you'd prefer that than seeing fuuta in pain and not being able to say a word. you wish you could help him somehow, but.. what could you do? you doubt that convincing es to forgive him is possible..

♪ you tried to support him at least in an emotional way, even though you knew that might not work. it's highly possible he won't be able to see with his right eye ever again, of course, that's extremely traumatizing. he also got beat up by kotoko out of all prisoners, who actually seemed to be similar to him in a way. but you told him that if fuuta wanted to talk to you about anything, like complain about something or vent, he could always do that. fuuta found your kindness weird and even suspicious at first, but.. fine, he could use a friend in a situation like this. or at least a person who could hear him out.

♪ fuuta finds himself coming to you more often than he thought he would. it's not like he has that many people to talk to here anyway. he's grateful to kazui (even though he doesn't want to admit it), but.. he's not sure if there is anything he can talk to him about. haruka and muu are really close now, it honestly feels like haruka has forgotten about everyone else. oh, but surprisingly, fuuta's been getting along with amane lately- what do you mean, you "have a bad feeling about this", y/n?.. 

♪ you will never actually hear this from him, but you can feel that fuuta is glad to have someone like you here. he looks calmer with you around and if he can't open up to anyone else about something, at least he can open up to you. it's easier for him to fall asleep when you're next to him, so you may find him suddenly doing so with his head on your shoulder or your lap. just, uh.. be prepared for him to be really flustered when he wakes up and sees you.

mahiru shiina.

♪ she's honestly surprised that you want to spend time with her and help her feel better despite her being voted guilty. she immediately starts joking (or maybe half-joking?..) about falling in love with you because of your kindness and you just roll your eyes and ask if she's okay and if she's in any pain. you remind her to take her medications, you ask shidou for help if her condition gets worse and you help her move around with her wheelchair, so that she doesn't feel isolated from the rest of the prisoners. being in milgram is already isolating enough.

♪ you try to help her feel better by doing things that are small and simple to you, but very meaningful to her. you brush her hair, you paint her nails (even if you can only do so on one hand for now..), you tell her that she still looks beautiful, and every time you do that, it makes her smile. it's still different from that usual smile of hers, but it's a smile that shows even though she's still suffering, she appreciates you being around. 

♪ mahiru doesn't understand why you're still helping her. is this because you love her?.. ah, please forgive her, that's just her being her usual silly self. but still.. she wasn't forgiven, right? that means she was in the wrong.. but she doesn't understand what made es vote her guilty. all she did was love her boyfriend a lot, right? does that mean that her love itself is a sin?.. is she not allowed to love at all?.. you gently interrupt mahiru and say that you don't know why es refused to forgive her, but you personally don't think mahiru's love is a sin at all. in fact, it's a blessing.

♪ mahiru feels like the sun itself personified to you and you hope that she gets better soon, but you're also grateful for the opportunity to take care of her like this. she always gives so much love to everyone, you wonder how much she gets back. you softly pat her head while making sure it's not painful considering her injury and ask what she wants to do today, but it takes a while for mahiru to answer because of your words still ringing in her head, but in a good way.

amane momose.

♪ .. so why exactly es decided to vote a child guilty? you know you probably shouldn't say anything about the guard's decisions, but.. this just doesn't make any sense to you. just what did es see in amane's video? or maybe something happened during the interrogation? amane's behavior has changed a lot, but you don't blame her for it. of course she would start acting differently. she's a 12 year old who was voted guilty and almost got beaten up by kotoko, kotoko ending up not doing anything to her was honestly a miracle. of course she would be mad. she should be.

♪ you try to talk to her and she kinda ignores you at first. however, you're not as bad as shidou, so.. fine, maybe she can hang out with you a little bit. it's hard not to feel sorry for her though, because of how messy her hair is and how empty her eyes are. you try to cheer her up somehow, like maybe you can do something really cute with her hair or maybe you can cook something for her (while still respecting her dietary restrictions and not forcing her to eat something she's not allowed to).. amane finds your attempts to become closer with her strange, but.. maybe she could use some company.

♪ every time she mentions her "god" around you though, you try to change the topic. you like amane and you genuinely want this kid to get better, but you're not really feeling like becoming a part of a cult.. amane just sighs and says you'll understand it someday. sometimes you catch her mumbling something about being forgiven this time and es needing to make the correct judgement. you can't really help her much when it happens and you can't do anything other than say that es will definitely forgive her, but amane manages to turn even something simple as that into rambles about her god. you can't help but wonder what amane's life used to be like.

♪ you can't convince amane that her family wasn't as kind as she thinks they were. you can't convince her that the way she was raised was too cruel. you know she won't believe you. and you know you're not a therapist. but at least you can be her friend. at least you can gently guide her, while still giving her a choice, so that she feels more free. more free than she possibly ever was in her life. and even though amane never talks about it, she does appreciate it. she feels strangely warm when you're around. she wonders if it's okay to feel this way and if god would ever forgive her for that. 

mikoto kayano.

♪ you didn't know why mikoto suddenly started to act like this. you tried to get at least some information from others, including es, but nobody gave you a proper answer, even though you had a feeling like kotoko and es know what's going on. for some reason, this mikoto just didn't.. feel like mikoto to you. it's like it was.. different mikoto? no, that doesn't sound right. it felt like it was a completely different person. you couldn't prove it and when you tried to say it out loud, it sounded weird, but.. it felt like a correct answer to you. 

♪ when it felt like it was the mikoto you knew, you always made sure to tell him what's going on, what happened, basically all the information he needed. he always looked so lost and confused, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. you assumed that it was probably because of the trauma related to being voted guilty. you actually couldn't understand es's decision at all. just why would they vote someone like mikoto guilty? was his video really that bad? it didn't feel like mikoto was pretending to be less smarter than he is. why would he even have to do that? you all are murderers here, there's no reason for him to try and trick anyone.

♪ when it felt like it was someone else, you still tried to treat him with kindness. you couldn't understand why everyone started to avoid this person so suddenly. yes, this person was.. quite different from mikoto, but.. maybe at least they could try to accept him? you actually found it surprising how quickly he calmed down after you showed him that you don't intend to hurt him or mikoto. maybe this was the only thing he needed: someone telling him that he's safe and that he's not in danger. or maybe it was something they both needed.

♪ both mikoto and this person seem to actually like you a lot.. well, it's not like they have much of a choice here, considering that other prisoners don't really want to spend time with them. but it looks like they don't mind it that much. yes, mikoto is definitely still worried about it and he doesn't seem to remember what happens when the other person is here, but the other guy doesn't really care about the other prisoners and the only thing that bothers him is how possibly dangerous they can be. and even though he still has his suspicions.. you don't seem that dangerous to him.

[advantage-artrick]

Im baaaaack 😈 he he he

....sorry. anyway I've decided to be mysterious. But I need your help. I've narrowed my decision down to 🌈 or 🐶 or ✨ but I can't choose. Which one should I go for?

Also who do you think Artricks gay awakenings were?

heyyyy welcome back lol 🥰

oooh i do love a good mystery! those are all cute but for some reason i'm really feeling the 🐶 for you! (which is good cuz i'm pretty sure i saw that you've already picked it 😊).

now, call me crazy for this one, but i don't think patrick was art's gay awakening.

and i need y'all to hear me out on this. i think he had his gay awakening the summer before he started his first year at the academy. he was just so young, he didn't realize what it was at the time.

it was probably with a close but temporary friend of his, maybe a boy a grade or two above him who decided art was worth his time for the summer months (and it definitely wasn't because he lived hours away from his school friends and was out of other options).

anyway, because art was smaller and younger and more innocent than him, he was very easy to mess with, which this particular friend took advantage of at every opportunity.

he would tease art nonstop, calling him names and pushing him around, and art would come crawling back for more every single day as soon as his 'best friend' rolled out of bed at one pm.

some days they'd go swimming, and this boy would hold art underwater until he came back up coughing and sputtering with tears in his eyes. other days they'd go out to a field close by, and art never saw it coming when he got pushed down the big hill, even though it happened every time without fail.

but no matter what they did, every day art followed him all the way back home, battered and bruised from the hours of torment, and he blushed as he asked shyly if they could have another sleepover.

sometimes the boy said yes. usually he said no, but art tried not to take it personally. after all, every time he asked if they were still best friends, the boy's answer was always the same:

"yeah, sure, man. hey, can you grab me another soda from downstairs? my legs hurt from swimming all day."

art had always been a bit of a lonely child, so when this person wandered into his life, he'd assumed their relationship was typical for two new best friends.

he followed this boy everywhere, watching him run and swim with pure reverence and devotion, and he never complained when the kicks started to hurt too bad, because he figured he was lucky to even be hanging out with him at all.

and the blushing and the stuttering and the giggling and the daydreaming were all perfectly normal things that perfectly normal people did when they finally found their best friend.

that was why when art went off to the academy and quickly became best friends with patrick, nothing seemed out of the ordinary about their relationship in the slightest.

well, except that patrick smiled more and hit him less and brought them both snacks when he came back from the dining hall, but those things were a good kind of strange. needless to say, art was happier with patrick as his best friend, and thoughts of patrick took up so much of his mind, he never even considered seeing that other boy ever again.

now, for patrick, i think his gay awakening happened a little later in life for him. and by that i mean when he was like 14-15.

also, yes, it was absolutely art.

i don't really think there was much to it for him. i genuinely just think art (being the late bloomer that he is) came back to school one year after a long, eventful summer with messy curls and toned muscles and a better ass than most of the girls in their grade.

and patrick took one look at art in his suddenly-too-small tennis shorts running over to hug him with the same ridiculously adorable grin, and thought,

". . . oh, fuck."

and that was that.

patrick for sure had a 'poof! you're gay,' moment.

then he just had to spend the next several years acting like it never happened and that everything was still exactly the same.

oh, the agony of being hopelessly in love with your oblivious best friend.

XOXO 💕🐶

[alexihollis]

Waiting Game

*Amber = Ajax, Gizel = Rembrandt. I am uncreative, it's okay lol*

*Content-warning: period-typical homophobia, intense internalized homophobia (angst with a happy-ending)*

Someone was tapping on her window.

Amber barely paid attention to the stray thought as she hovered in that heavy place between being awake and drifting back to sleep.

Someone was tapping on her window.

Her pillow was comfortable, soft, and she'd recently...acquired an extra quilt that made her bed extra warm in the colder winter months. Technically, the heating was on in the apartment, but their landlord knew how to toe the line of legality with an expertise of the cheap and malevolent. Gizel taught her that word: malevolent.

Someone was tapping on her-

Gizel.

Amber shot up in bed, fumbling for the cord on the lamp next to the bedside. As the lamp turned on, it illuminated the room and the small figure crouched on her fire escape. Pushing her blanket and quilt away, Amber shoved off her bed and across the room as quickly as she could, fumbling with the faulty window latch and shoving the window up. She helped Gizel through, the cold winter air biting at her exposed arms, pushing the window back down as soon as Gizel cleared it.

"Good evening," Gizel smiled as Ajax turned to her.

"What the fuck do you mean 'good evening'? What are you doing here?" Amber hissed.

"You said your dad's on night shift."

What did that have to do with anything?

At Amber's confusion, Gizel continued, "So you have the apartment to yourself."

"So you took that as an open invitation?!"

"Of course," Gizel smiled, throwing herself onto Amber's bed.

Amber felt her face heat. Gizel had been in her room before. Plenty of times. Never at night, though, never in her unmade bed. And never wearing such little clothing.

"Where the fuck are your clothes?" Amber asked, forcing herself to look at Gizel's face.

Do not be a creep. Do not be a creep. Do not be a-

But honestly who sneaks onto a fire escape in a tank top and boxer shorts?!

"They're my pajamas, asshole," Gizel said. "I snuck out."

"Without clothes. Or shoes," Amber gestured to Gizel's bare toes, bright red from the winter air. "Its below freezing out there."

"Eh, I barely have feeling in my feet, anyway," Gizel joked.

Amber didn't find the joke particularly funny. She remembered the day after the night her gran locked her on their fire escape, when Gizel walked to school in tears because her feet hurt so badly from the cold burn. She didn't say anything, though.

Gizel sighed as Amber stared at her. "Is it a crime to want to hang out with my- with you?"

"No," but Amber found herself awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, as Gizel stared at her.

"Will you sit down?"

"I like standing."

"Come on," Gizel patted the bed. "You're gonna give me a complex, standing all the way over there."

Amber never did stand a chance, not when it was Gizel. So she crossed over and sat on the bed.

As far from Gizel as possible.

Who chose to not respect this decision and Amber soon found herself being forced to lay down on the bed, with Gizel plastering herself along Amber's body, her head resting on Amber's chest. Amber wondered if Gizel could hear her heart giving out.

"What are you doing?" Amber forced her voice to remain neutral, even. No emotion.

"You're warm," Gizel said. Then, after a moment, "What the fuck are you doing with your arms?"

Amber was not doing anything with her arms. They were laying obediently at her sides, not touching Gizel, exactly as Amber was telling them to do. Perfect statues, which wasn't particularly easy as Gizel was practically laying on one of them. "Nothing?"

"Why are you being so weird about this? We cuddle all the time," Gizel complained.

Amber would have argued that, no, they did not. They huddled against the cold, Gizel fitting her smaller body within the confines of Amber's jackets or flannels or whatever large, loose piece of outer-layer clothing Amber was using that day to make herself look larger than she was. Amber slung an arm around Gizel when they walked down the street to make it clear that she was not to be fucked around with, no matter how fragile she might seem. Gizel always grabbed for Amber's hand in crowds or when she needed to lead Amber somewhere or when she just needed to hold something. Gizel would lean into Amber when she was tired and Amber would gladly take the weight.

Amber would not call any of that cuddling. She, especially, would argue that these were all very different circumstances from cuddling in her bed.

Once upon a time, this might have been fine. A couple years ago, before Amber started noticing that, while she could care less about the boys her age that lived in the upstairs apartment, their older sister made her stammer over her words and feel like she stuck her face into the sun. A couple years ago, before Amber started noticing things about her best friend, like the way her curls bounced when she got excited or the freckles that dotted her nose in the summer and the millions of other things that Amber shoved down down down.

But this wasn't a couple years ago, this was now, and Amber had realized that she was, in fact, the sort of horrible deviant her dad ranted and raved about when the news came on at night. She had been born wrong, something was twisted and confused inside her, and she didn't know how to fix it, didn't think she could fix it, but she could keep it hidden. She could keep it away from the people she cared about.

She could protect Gizel from it, if she was diligent.

So she never invited Gizel over at night. She kept Gizel out of her bedroom and out of her bed and she always kept her eyes above the collarbone. In fact, as far as Amber was concerned, Gizel did not even have collarbones.

Then, suddenly, Gizel's face was very close to Amber's. Because Gizel had maneuvered herself to where she was now basically on top of Amber, Gizel's hands on either side of Amber's head as Gizel stared down at Amber.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

"Did I do something?" Gizel asked. "Because you have to tell me if I did something, those are the rules."

What rules?! Amber wanted to scream. But she couldn't. Because every inch of her felt like it was on fire.

"What are you doing?" Amber's voice came out strangled. Amazing.

Gizel narrowed her eyes. "I'm trying to hang out with you. But you're being weird about it. I thought you'd been being weird about it, but I thought I was just imagining things, because you would tell me if something was wrong. You tell me everything."

"I don't tell you everything," Amber's mouth moved before her mind. A typical issue for Amber, but usually the worst case scenario was her dad deciding he needed to fix her smart mouth.

The current worst case scenario was much, much worse and stared her in the face as Gizel looked uniquely heartbroken. "What does that mean?"

Amber closed her eyes to try and escape the look, but that just made her hyperaware of everywhere Gizel's body was touching hers. "Please get off me."

It was like teleporting, how fast Gizel moved away. Amber sat back up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed as Gizel all but plastered herself against her bedroom wall. Before Amber could say anything, Gizel started speaking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I dunno, I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing," Amber rubbed at her face, tired. Resigned. Except Gizel kept speaking.

"I don't want you to leave me!" Gizel exclaimed.

Amber paused. Looked at Gizel. Who seemed tired and stressed and...Had she been like that when she crawled through Amber's window? Gizel had a tendency to do that, try to force nervous energy into happiness. Amber was usually better at spotting it, tell her to knock it off, but...well...the lack of usual clothing may have been more distracting than she previously realized.

"Where the fuck do you think I'm going?" Amber asked.

"I don't know! Nowhere! But- People can leave without leaving."

"I'm not leaving till you tell me," Amber said.

"I would never tell you to leave." And fuck if it didn't look like Gizel believed it, too. "So why have you been weird lately?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Amber tried to lie.

"Really?" Gizel deadpanned. "So you don't know anything about that idiot with the spiky hair in my fourth period that tried to ask me out?"

Idiot? "I thought you said he was cool?"

Jonathan certainly wouldn't be winning any Nobel prizes, but he wasn't completely dull. He lived with his mom and had a really good relationship with her. His friends all said he was chill and even his ex-girlfriend didn't have a bad word to say, beyond that he was a bit boring.

"I said his leather jacket was cool. Leather jackets are cool! And what about that jerk from the baseball team?"

Amber furrowed her eyebrows. "You said you liked his personality or something."

"I thought it was cool how he sticks up for his friends! A bit violently, but it shows he cares, y'know!"

"...Yeah. And he thinks you're hot. So?" Amber was not understanding the problem here. At all.

Steve was a good guy, Amber's personal favorite so far. He had four younger sisters who all adored him and he actually said that he thought Gizel was "as beautiful as her art" which made Amber want to punch him a bit, but fit the bill well enough. Except, evidently, he was apparently a jerk which meant Amber might need to have a more fist-to-face conversation with him...

"And that cashier at the movies?"

"Okay, he's been flirting with you for weeks and you said he had nice eyes." Admittedly, Amber did not know as much about Christopher, but he did live nearby, had a steady job, his coworkers liked him, and, if push came to shove, lived nearby if Amber needed to deal with him. Plus, the movie theater manager had a bad taste in character and liked Amber, so losing his job was also definitely on the table if Christopher decided to be a dick.

"Why are you trying to set me up with guys?!" Gizel demanded.

Amber did not understand what this had to do with her acting weird. "You said you wanted to start dating? Remember?"

Gizel's mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again as she stared at Amber. "You. Are. An idiot."

Amber reeled back on the bed, like the words hit her, "Excuse me-"

"You! I wanted to start dating you! How could I have been more clear?!" Gizel exclaimed. "I hold your hand. I lean on you while we walk down the street. I worm my way into your jackets while you wear them. Yes, I liked the jacket, I told you it reminded me of yours. I said I think its kind of cool when people are willing to go to bat for their friends, like you do for me. I said I liked brown eyes. I think they are nice. You have brown eyes. I crawl onto your fire escape in no clothing in the middle of the winter, do I need to spell this out for you?!"

Amber stared, the words washing over her like a tidal wave.

Gizel stared back.

Amber stared.

"Are you going to say anything?!" Gizel exclaimed. "I mean, if you didn't like me back, that's fine, but you could've at least acknowledged-"

"Did I do this to you?" Amber asked as the horror started to settle.

Gizel blinked. "...what?"

"I didn't- Did I- Is it permanent? Can I- Can you change back, I don't-"

Amber did this. She must have, somehow. What was she thinking? How delusional was she to think that she could protect Gizel from herself?

"Oh, shit," Gizel muttered as she stared at Ajax, eyes wide and round. "Amber-"

"You need to go," Amber got up from the bed, moving to go to the window.

"Wait. Wait, wait, please-" Amber felt a hand grab her wrist and she flinched. Hard.

"Stop!" Amber turned to face Gizel, doing her best to make space, but her knees hit the bed. "I have clearly done enough and you need to go."

"You haven't done anything-"

"I'm gay," Amber forced herself to say. "And, clearly, its contagious or some- I don't know, you need to go. Just- just go home and- Gizel, please, I can't-"

"It isn't contagious," Gizel interrupted, her voice firm. "And I'm not leaving. Fuck. I fucked this up."

"Gizel-"

"I'm gay. I have always been gay. And I'm happy."

Amber was already shaking her head. "No. No, you're perfect, you aren't-"

"I am. It's not a bad thing, Amber," Gizel's voice was soft and she kept inching closer.

Amber tried to step back, put more space between them, but fell onto the bed instead, eyes fixed on Gizel as her heart raced in her chest.

"I thought you already knew," Gizel admitted. "You always...I thought you knew about me and I never, in a million years, thought that you felt this way about yourself. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have- I would have done this differently if I realized."

Their knees were touching. Amber watched as Gizel's knees bumped hers. Her eyes burned. Amber kept them open, trying to ignore the tears welling and the impending sense of doom.

"We don't have to talk about this, now, okay?" Gizel said. "I'm sorry for pushing it, I'm sorry for pushing you, but can you at least believe me when I say its okay? I love you, the way I always have. And you love me. That can be enough."

Amber's throat felt thick as her hands twitched, wanting to move towards Gizel. She forced them into fists, forcing them down into the mattress instead. Gizel's hands folded over her fists.

"Can I?"

Amber folded, allowing Gizel to maneuver herself inbetween Amber's legs as her arms went around Amber. In seconds, Amber found her own hands clutching at the back of Gizel's tanktop as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry," Amber kept repeating.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Gizel repeated.

They didn't talk about that night, or the subject of that night, for a long time. Amber stopped seeking out guys for Gizel and slowly started to expect Gizel on her fire escape when her dad worked the night shift. When it was cold, Gizel would worm her way into her coats and, when it was warmer, into the flannels or oversized baseball jerseys Amber war over tanktops. When Amber had a free hand, she would lose said hand to Gizel. When they said goodbye, when it was safe, Gizel would peck a kiss to Amber's cheek. When they hugged, Amber would hold on longer than necessary.

But they didn't talk about it.

They ran away from the apartment in Queens and didn't talk about it.

Well, kind of.

"You're dad was wrong about a lot of shit, you know," Rembrandt said one day while tagging, Ajax acting as lookout.

"Yeah?" Ajax was not sure where this was going.

"The whole gay things just one of a million."

Ajax rolled her eyes. "Yes. I agree."

"Cool. As long as we're on the same page with that."

Then, they stopped talking about it.

Kind of.

Because they gained a new girl. A sickly, terrified little thing who Cleon found under the boardwalk and Ajax really thought they would need to bury there, too. Except she survived.

"She's not eighteen, Cleon, no way in Hell," Ajax said.

"She just turned seventeen, she said," Cleon said. "Gave me her ID and everything to prove it. No one's looking for her. What do you want me to do?"

Ajax rolled her eyes, "Give her my room. I'll move in with Rembrandt."

To Cowgirl's objections and Cochise's glee.

"You're going to let them move into the room next to me?!" Cowgirl exclaimed when Cleon approved. "Make them move into Ajax's!"

"Cowgirl," Cleon groaned.

Ajax pretended to not understand what Cowgirl was saying.

The room did have two beds. It took two nights before Rembrandt's bed stopped being utilized.

Three weeks passed before Ajax came home to find that bed gone and replaced with a desk.

"Need space for art," was Rembrandt's distracted answer when Ajax asked, Rembrandt far too deep in some detailed drawing.

A month later, Ajax sat in their bed, watching as Rembrandt got ready for bed.

"What?" Rembrandt asked, laughing slightly as she sat on the bed.

And Ajax leaned in and kissed her. A short, sweet thing.

"Was that okay?" Ajax asked as she pulled away.

Then found herself tackled to the bed.

The next morning, Ajax woke up to Rembrandt watching her.

"Good morning," Rembrandt said, smiling.

Ajax smiled back, "Morning." Then, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Rembrandt rolled her lips together. Then, "So. You're my girlfriend, now? Can I say that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you can." And that was much easier than Ajax thought it would ever be.

It took two weeks before any of the Warriors commented on it.

Specifically, before Cleon made an announcement to all of them that Rembrandt warned Ajax about before hand: "Rem and Ajax are dating. If anyone has a problem with that, you have a problem with me and this gang. Anyone need to have a chat?"

No one said anything.

Though, later, when Ajax and Swan were on patrol, Swan did ask, "Was that announcement about me?"

"What do you mean?" Ajax asked, pretending like Swan did not just startle the absolute fuck out of her. Damn creepy kid she was, she never talked.

"Why did Cleon announce you were dating?" Swan asked.

Ajax grit her teeth. "Because it's a new a thing."

Swan raised her eyebrows. Nodded once. And said nothing. Smart creepy kid, probably why Cleon was already training her as her second.

Cowgirl?

Not as smart.

"You didn't just start dating, I call complete bullshit," Cowgirl said one night over dinner, a common refrain over the last few days. "No. That amount of pining and physical contact is ridiculous. I refuse."

"Cowgirl, I will beat you, shut the fuck up," Ajax finally broke.

"I'm just saying-"

"I'll help her," Swan said, not even looking up from her plate.

There was a solid chance that had been the first time Swan spoke at dinner.

"Damn. All right, fine," Cowgirl muttered.

That night, as they laid in bed, Ajax couldn't get Cowgirl's words out of her head. "Does it bother you that I took so long?"

"No." Rembrandt's immediate answer helped a bit, too. "I'd wait forever."

That helped even more.

[a-case-of-attachment]

Lucifer Morningstar / reader

Warnings: religious references, alcohol, stupid drunk decisions, hallucinations?, slight horror elements, questionable friends, no use of y/n, also don't sell your soul kids!

A/N: this is just a one shot, at least its supposed to be. I just liked the idea and it wouldn't leave me alone so here you go! Have my weird little story gremlin

It’s a relatively normal night when you sell your soul to the devil. Or at least it had started out that way. Admittedly it had been an accident and a drunken one at that. You hadn’t really expected anything to come from your friends stupid dare but it seemed the old and tatted book she had found in the back of a junk store had been the real deal and you were the one now paying the price for her curiosity. Quite literally it would seem. 

On the last Friday of every month your normally quiet and relaxing apartment suddenly became the place to be, the small space crammed full of people and so noisy you could barely hear yourself think. Well, crammed might have been a slight exaggeration. There were six of you in total, somehow managing to fit on your small couch and armchair and not feeling like there wasn’t any room to move. Though there was only six of you they were loud though, their voices getting louder with every new bottle of wine that was opened and leaving you convinced this would be the one where Mrs Crouch from downstairs finally logged a noise complaint with the police like she was always threatening to do. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care too much about old Mrs Crouch from 3B though, four glasses in and having too much of a good time for it to be an issue. 

It was somewhere after the XXXL pizza had been demolished and the fourth bottle of wine had been opened that a game of truth and dare had been suddenly suggested. It had been meet with a mix of groans and cheers, you very much not wanting to take part after the last time it had been suggested. You had gotten so drunk that you could hardly remember what had happened that night and as a result had spent most of the next day hugging the toilet and feeling sorry for yourself. You were just tipsy enough that it hadn’t taken much to convince you to play the childish game and soon enough the empty wine bottle had been set on the middle of the table and spinning towards its first victim. 

It had all been standard stuff to start with, like run to the end of the hall and back naked, who did you actually make out with at your work’s Christmas party and down the pickle juice out of the jar. Childish and innocent enough that had all of you laughing and your neighbours shouting at you to “shut the hell up!” Well, it had been until it had gotten to your turn and then tings suddenly took a turn for the weird. 

You weren’t religious, hadn’t been since your dad had run off either his secretary when you were a teenager. You had been though, and your mother still was, often calling up on a Sunday afternoon to complain that you had gone yet another week without going to church and that you were opening yourself up to the devil’s influence, starting with “those so called friends of yours. Mark my words their satanists, the lot of them and your letting them corrupt your soul. If you don’t repent soon, you’re going to end up in hell. Is that what you want, eternal damnation and suffering?” It reminded you of your childhood, listening to your local preacher damning all of humanity at bible study and the church run groups you had been forced to attend. 

Your friends knew about you strict bible filled upbringing and it was often a point of their teasing so it shouldn’t have surprised you that when you picked dare they had managed to include it somehow though you would never have expected it to go the way it had. You had out right laughed when they had dared you to sell your soul to the devil, mockingly saying “oh please Mr Devil Sir, take my soul in exchange for another bottle of wine,” to a chorus of laughs from the rest of your friends and loud agreement as you clinked your mostly empty glasses together. It hadn’t stayed funny for long though, especially not when an old and tattered book had been pulled out from a long forgotten bag, the thing smelling musty and slightly like rotten eggs with an aura about it that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up and goosebumps covering your arms. 

No, you weren’t religious, but you did find the whole thing weird as the ritual was explained to you, your friends seeming uncomfortably eggar and already having some of the odder things the ritual called for. It seemed to much like it had been planned, no one questioning it as animal bones and weird herbs you had never heard of were pulled out of the same bag as the book like it was normal to carry them around. It left you feeling nervous, like you were breaking some sort of taboo that never should have been spoken about let alone acted upon. It hadn’t bothered anyone else as much as it had you, but you supposed that was the whole point of them giving it to you as a dare. It was just a bit of fun for them, a chance to make fun you because you used to go to church every Sunday and were still a little reluctant to take the lords name in vain.

You had said no to start with, instead opting for the forfeit because having to take a shot of the weird sludgy grey concoction you had all had a hand in making seemed better than messing around with the occult. The problem was that you had always been a bit naive, your upbringing leaving you isolated and lacking the knowledge that others your age had from just every day life. You had always felt like you were at a disadvantage and as a result you were eager to fit in, not wanting to seem like a prude or killjoy. The alcohol didn’t help, lowering your inhibitions and it hadn’t taken much teasing and cajoling from your friends to change your mind, snatching up the book and demanding to know what you needed to do whilst trying to keep your hands from shaking. 

It had taken all of ten minutes to get everything set up, your poor wooden floor now supporting a pentagram with a weird array of symbols drawn in sharpie around it and every candle you owned now placed at every point of the pentagram. You had just a handful of seconds to worry about what your land lord would say if you couldn’t get the pen off the floor before your attention was drawn elsewhere, the clatter of someone rummaging through your kitchen cupboards to worrisome to ignore. 

When everything was in place, and everyone sat around the drawn circle the nerves had come back tenfold. It must have been obvious how reluctant you were as the mix of herbs and various animal bones were thrown into one of your pasta bowls, along with a couple of odd looking things that you had no clue what they actually were. No one seemed to notice though, your friends laughing and joking as they passed around another bottle of wine. You had declined a glass when offered, suddenly feeling sick. Your mother’s words chose that moment to come back to you, her sharp angry insistence that your friends were damning you to Hell apparently now a fact. She was going to be so angry if she ever found out you messed around with this stuff, even as a joke.

Only one of your friends had seemed to notice your sudden queasy state, sitting down next to you on the floor and reassuring you that it was “all a bit of fun, yeah? It’s not like any of this stuff is actually real. Trust me, the only thing that’s going to happen is a whole bunch of nothing.” That had gone some way to easing your worry. Not that you believe in that sort of stuff because let’s be real, angels? Demons? A fiery pit of damnation or an eternal paradise of peace and happiness? It was all just made-up nonsense to scare people into doing the ‘right thing’ whatever that was and it was way more likely you were just a jumbled mess of atoms and electrons that returned to the either when all was said and done. Right?

Slight religious panic aside it took all of five minutes before you were butchering your way through several verses of Latin, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to keep your voice from doing the same. The pin came next, a simple pricking of your finger and a few drops of blood squeezed out, falling into the bowl that had been placed in the middle of the circle. You can’t help but be slightly fascinated by it, swearing you can hear each drop splashing as it hit the strange assortment of things already in there. A ridiculous notion but you would aware it to be true, each little drop followed by a gentle sizzle like it was hit red hot coals instead of bone and dried herbs. 

Soon enough all that was left was for you to decide what it was you were going to ask for in exchange for your soul. It wasn’t real, you knew that, but you still hesitated, your pen hovering over the scrap bit of paper you were supposed to write it down on. Your friends had their own ideas, telling you to ask for a box or skittles or for the cutie from your local grocery store to ask you out on a date. They even suggested asking for money, enough that you would never have to worry about the cost of anything ever again. It was all frivolous things, nothing of any real value and even though it was just a game your couldn’t bring yourself to write down any of it, knowing a souls worth was more than a few material possessions. Instead, you had written something down that seemed impossible to you, something the devil would surely turn down if he was real. It was just as stupid and childish as the other’s suggestions but that hadn’t stopped you from writing down ‘to be happy’ before folding it up and setting the paper alight before anyone else could read it. 

The burning paper had set whatever else was inside the bowl aflame, a dense white smoke curling up from the pot and smelling a lot like those new age shops that burnt incense like it was going out of fashion. The room fell silent, everyone watching the pot and seemingly holding their breath as they waited for something to happen. The flames of the candles flickered, like a gentle breeze had blown across the room and then…nothing. Nothing happened. Nothing changed and whatever weird spell that had fallen over the room broke, a couple of people bursting out into laughter about how serious everyone had been, already getting up and going after another bottle of wine whilst they teased one another. Not you though, you stay where you were, back straight and eyes wide as your heart thundered away in your chest. 

Had it been nothing though? You could have sworn that as the candles had flickered you had felt a presence at your back, large and ominous as it pressed up against you. Like it intended to devour you whole. Something that had felt suspiciously like fingers had wrapped around your neck and wrists, long and burning hot like coals as their grip grew impossibly tight, your breath catching as your body stilled in fear. And then came the voice, carried on the strange breeze that had blown through your home and somehow sounding both light and musical yet somehow solemn as it had whispered “deal” into your ear, it’s hot breath causing shivers to run down your spine. It had only been a second, a fleeting moment but it left you shaken, the feeling like you had made a grave mistake washing over you. It wasn’t real, you knew it wasn’t. Heaven and Hell, angels and demons, they didn’t exist. It was just a mix of your upbringing and over active imagination playing tricks on you. It had all been in your head, no one else seemingly noticing anything. You were just being silly, that’s all it was. 

It didn’t take long after your little make believe ritual for the others to leave, all of them suddenly tired or having plans in the morning. You didn’t really care, for once glad that they were leaving earlier than planned so you could get yourself to bed and forget this night had ever existed. No one offered to help tidy up, but they never did, almost always just leaving everything where it was. Maybe if you were lucky a glass or two would make it into the kitchen but you didn’t hold out much hope. 

Once alone though that uneasy feeling started to creep up on you again and despite your best efforts you found yourself staring down at the pentagram like you expected a portal to open up and some demonic beast to pop up and drag you kicking and screaming down to Hell. The room seemed to get hotter, a weight settling around your neck and wrists, almost like you wearing a choker and bangles made of metal. The lights began to flicker, one after the other as the room filled with the crackle of electricity. Suddenly all the shadows seemed darker, more sinister, like they were crawling up the walls and spreading across the floor to get to you, their inky black tendrils looking far to much like claw tipped finger as they reach out for you. Your heart rate picked up, back pressed firmly against the door as your hand blindly searched for the handle. “Not real, not real, not real,” you chanted to yourself, eyes squeezing shut as your fingers brushed against the lock. 

The loud slam of a door had your eyes flying open, a startled panic filled cry falling from your lips as you stumbled backwards, the door handle digging painfully into your back. Your fear filled mind struggled to keep up with what you were seeing or in this case the lack of what you could see. The room beyond looked just like normal, no creeping shadows or ominous presences to be found, the lights on and filling the space with a warm and inviting glow. Of course there was nothing there. It wasn’t real, none of it was. You just needed to sleep off the worst of the hangover you were most likely going to have and move on with your life. Chalk all this up to Catholic guilt and be done e with it. 

Feeling embarrassed and stupid you pushed away from the door and started the arduous task of clearing away the mess that had been left strewn around your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have time to do it in the morning despite how badly you just wanted to forget it and collapse into bed. You avoided the satanic mess on your floor though, the heavy feeling around your neck and wrists getting worse the closer to it you got. That you wouldn’t leave till the next day when you would be better equipped mentally for trying to get the sharpie off the floor. If it would come off that is. If not, you would have no choice but to spend the last of your spare money on a rug to cover it up and hope your landlord didn’t want to look under it on your next inspection. 

Feeling drained you finally started on your normal nightly routine. Though you checked the windows and doors were locked twice tonight, your paranoia getting the best of you. You would normally leave your bedroom door open as well but tonight you closed it, not wanting to see the shadows that lurked beyond. Slipping under the covers had felt like sweet relief, whatever fear and worry you had been carrying around all evening vanishing as you snuggled down into your pillows. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, the late hour and alcohol you had consumed finally taking its toll on you. 

Somewhen in the early hours of the morning though the quiet and stillness of your home ended. The small bowl still in the middle of the pentagram began to smoke again, the candles that remained half melted at the points relighting all on their own. The red flames flickered and danced, casting long shadows that shifted and pulled together creating the silhouette of a man, with a cane and top hat. Silently the shadow moved through your apartment, your bedroom door silently opening with just a wave of its cane. You were so deeply asleep that you didn’t even stir as your bed dipped slightly under a new weight. You sighed softly as a clawed back hand gently brushed across your cheek, its sharp thumb nail dangerously close to your closed eye. The hand trailed down, nails not even pressing hard enough to leave behind so much as a red mark. They stilled at your neck, thumb brushing against the hollow of your neck. There came a glimmer of gold, a large decorative collar appearing around your neck, decorated with snakes and a large red apple at the front, a matching golden chain hanging from a loop at the front and leading straight into the shadows hand. 

From within the shadow came the same disembodied voice from before, soft and slightly forlorn as it whispered “happiness huh? I hope that’s possible, for both our sakes.” Unaware of what lurked over you, you slept on peacefully, blissfully ignorant of the fact that you had been wrong and now, because of a stupid drunken game you were bound for all eternity to the Devil himself, no longer the one in possession of your soul. 

[satansamwriting]

hi! saw your post from yesterday and im fairly new to ur blog :) can i ask for headcanons for kung lao and liu kang with a gender neutral reader who gets a lot of bug bites?? like in the summer they get bit a lot and it annoys them

HC Kung Lao and Liu Kang with a gn s/o who keeps getting bug bites.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

HI! I wasn't expecting someone to ask me that quickly. I'm farely new to writing headcanons so I tried my best and I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it.

Kung Lao

This man would find your "suffering" entertaining.

Like you two would be training together and suddenly the urge to scratch your bug bites would distract you enough to stop the fight and he'd be there watching you curse summer and all the bugs on Earthrealm with a grin.

Bug doesn’t seem to bite him and it annoys you. 

Amazed by how many bug bites you get

"(Y/N), the bug charmer"

Enjoy hearing your creative swearing as you discover new bites. 

It gets to a point where you discover bites in odd places like in the palm of your hand or in between your toes. He tries his best not to laugh as you complain about them.

Eventually, Kung Lao would take pity on you, seeing how much it bothers you and would try to find ways to help. 

Kung Lao  asked around the temple for anything that could help with (y/n)'s bug problems. It took some time, even after asking Liu and Lord Raiden, before finding someone that could help. A small bottle of diluted citronella oil in hand, he thanked the monk before making his way back to (y/n). He finds them sitting on the training ground currently trying to fight off the bugs that surrounded them.  “Here, this should help.” Taking a seat next to them, he pries open the bottle and poured a small amount in the palm of his hand.  “ I think my last option is to ask Grandmaster Liang if I could live at his temple during summer. At least bugs would leave me alone.” Rubbing the oil on the several bites covering their body, Kung Lao tries to hide his grin.  “ And leave me here all alone for months?” Satisfied with his job, Kung Lao closed the bottle, pocketing it in case they would need it again. His grin never left his face as he looked at them. (Y/n) seemed to be weighing the options in their head. Signing as if they made the most difficult decision in their life (y/n) stood up and stretched.

“Oh the sacrifices I make for you.”

Kung Lao couldn’t help but laugh as he took  (y/n) extended hands.

Liu Kang

Similar to Kung Lao, this boy doesn’t get bug bites. 

Although, he is more sympathetic toward you whenever you get new bites or complain about the itch. 

Would start to worry if the bites become more apparent on your skin.

Liu Kang is curious to know why, despite the both of you being outside together, the bugs only bite you

Even though he himself doesn’t get bitten , he knows you shouldn’t scratch them. And so, he tries to keep your mind off the bites by training with you.

Secretly finds it entertaining as long as it doesn’t get worse.

Asks around the temple for any advice on how to appease your itch 

It  was a warm day at the temple. Liu Kang and (y/n) were meditating, hiding in the shade to avoid getting sunburn. The meditation was going smoothly until Liu Kang's concentration was broken by a loud smack. Opening his eyes, he turned toward (y/n), who was trying their best not to scratch the newest bite. Liu Kang could see how annoyed they were and, with a soft smile, decided to help with their discomfort.  “Wait here.” The chosen one left his partner for a short while, knowing full well that they would take this opportunity to scratch the bite. He came back soon after with a small bowl filled with cold water and a towel in hand.  “I heard cold water help ease the itching sensation.” Wetting the towel, Liu Kang gently wrapped it around the bite and watched as they smiled in relief. “ Thanks, it does help a bit.”  Too distracted now to continue their meditation Liu Kang and (y/n) spent the rest of the time enjoying the warmth of the day sitting in the shade. Whenever the itching sensation got too intense again, (y/n) would simply remove the towel and wet it again. If the water in the bowl became lukewarm, Liu Kang would stand up and change it for cold water. When other bites started to show up, Liu Kang searched for ways to repel the bugs. One of the monks, who overheard him talk about the problem to Kung Lao, offered him straws of lavender. Thanking the monk, Liu Kang left his friend to find his partner. (Y/n) was scratching at one of the bites when he arrived. The smell of lavender slowly filled the air around them.  “I told you not to scratch yourself while I'm gone.” Placing the flowers in between them, Liu Kang took hold of (y/n) hands in order to prevent them from worsening the bite.  “In my defence,you were back when I started to.” Smiling, Liu Kang kept holding their hands as the two of them continued their conversation.  Despite how annoying it was to get bug bites all summer long, (y/n) enjoyed the care Liu Kang gave them. 

[trash-king18]

M pt. 3

notes: no smut in these next few ones, there’s a build up loves but i promise more will come

cw: drinking, being drunk, overprotective miguel, soft miguel, arguing as always

————

it had been a few weeks since you’d talked to him. he was away on mission after mission. and he had to use an emergency injection on one so he didn’t need an infusion. the shots were highly concentrated and mainly to help him come down off of kill highs on high stakes missions. the more concentrated solution usually stayed in his system for up to month. they also caused some nasty side effects you were still trying to work out. 

you only knew he had used one from Lyla, since Miguel evidently refused to allow himself a single second of free time. He hadn’t even stepped foot in this dimension in days. Even though he knew he was supposed to let you do an evaluation and monitor symptoms after the shots. 

Peter B, Spider woman and Hobie had returned from their last mission and had all elected to go out for a drink, the other kids were there too but they were all underage. As much as they complained, you never let them come with. “go out” was sort of a loose term here there wasn’t a bar in HQ the only alcohol was whatever spiders smuggled in from other earths. But occasionally you guys liked to pop over to the closest universe and play music loud and have a couple drinks, play pool. just pretend to be normal. Spider woman was designated portal operator, of course, with a baby on the way. 

But this time you had more on your mind than normal. The anniversary of the incident was coming up and the situation with Miguel was increasingly frustrating. So this time, you may have gotten a bit drunker than normal. Hobie had left early to go help the other kids with babysitting Mayday. A few hours later when the three of you went back to HQ, they had to essentially carry you. You were giddy and off balance so you didn’t notice why they had stopped walking. a voice booms from up ahead. 

“you three, my office. now.”

shit

Peter helped sit you down in a chair once you got there, and you slumped over. 

“WHAT were you thinking”

Spider woman speaks first “alright o’hara you can scold the others like children if you want but we’re adults making adult decisions so talk to us as such” 

Peter props himself on her shoulder for support and offers up a slurred “yea” 

“If you want to get drunk that’s your prerogative, but i expect you do that in your own universe when you are ~off~ duty” 

Peter “cmon man you’re no fun”

“you— no nothing from you” 

all that gains him is a raspberry blown in his face. 

you’re still slumped over in your chair just listening to them argue. 

He walks up to Spider Woman 

“now him? i expect this from him” 

“hey man” 

they both turn to him in unison “shut up peter” 

“but you?” 

“we’ve done this plenty of times before and you’ve never seemed to have a problem” 

“but never with her.” 

“she comes all the time” 

“that’s not the point” 

“so what is” 

“so? you let her get drunk. you took her to an unknown universe, and let her get drunk in an un secured environment. she’s not like us, she could’ve gotten hurt! or worse!” 

“she’s an adult, she can handle herself” 

“not when she’s like this” 

“we were with her” 

“you’re pregnant and he’s..” he looks at peter before pinching the bridge of his nose before turning away 

“that’s never stopped me from handling anything before.” 

“but it was a risk you shouldn’t have taken, now get out and take ~him~ with you.” 

“what about her” 

“i’ll take care of it. out” 

she scowls at him but just turns muttering curses under her breath. “cmon parker let’s get you home to mj and may” 

“mayday!” is all you hear before she pulls him out the door. 

now it’s just you and Miguel in his office. he looks up at the ceiling and says something in spanish before turning back to you. 

he approaches your chair 

“y/n.. y/n hey are you alright” 

“now you care?” you slur as you swat his hand from your face 

he mutters 

siempre un placer 

always a pleasure 

before you can protest he picks you up and puts you over his shoulder. gently though, so he doesn’t risk you getting sick just in case. 

you protest, throwing curses at him in spanish. there’s few spider people left but the ones that are still milling about turn to watch this scene. he scowls at them and they immediately turn back to what they were doing. you curse and try to squirm your way out of his arms the whole way back to your apartment. it’s a code lock, like most rooms in that universe, but when he asks you for it you refuse. so he calls lyla up and has her give it to him. he opens the door and sets you down gingerly on the couch. 

you just lay back and groan trying to stop your head from spinning. being thrown over his shoulder didn’t necessarily help the dizziness. he walks away and you can hear him moving around. normally you’d yell at him for invading your space but you were too tired and too drunk. he was gone for a while and you called out for him but there was no answer. you tried to get up and stumbled over your own feet but before you could fall you felt a strong arm brace you. 

“can’t leave you alone for a minute”

“you left for three weeks just fine.”

it was a low blow, but you were drunk and cranky and you didn’t care. he didn’t say anything just lead you towards the bathroom. 

“i’m not sick it’s fine i just want to go to—“

but you’re cut short as he opens the door and you see he’s drawn a bath. 

“can you uhm.. do you need help with..”

“i can undress myself o’hara just get out” 

he frowns at you, he almost pouts, it’s cute 

but you’re mad at him. 

you climb in and sink into the tub and audibly moan at how good the warm water feels. you lay your head on the side and drink the water bottle he had put in there for you and try to sober up. 

you must have fallen asleep because when you open your eyes you feel better and the water is barely hot. you can hear clambering sounds outside the bathroom coming from the kitchen. 

you pull yourself out of the tub, you’re still a little unsteady on your feet but it’s much better than before. you open the door to find him in your kitchen cooking something that smells absolutely amazing. your stomach growls but you don’t say anything. he glances over but looks away when he sees you in your robe. 

“there’s clothes on your bed” 

“oh sure just let yourself into my room, and root through my drawers. i can pick out my own clothes” 

he ignores you and just keeps cooking. you fully intend to ignore the clothes he laid out but when you open your door you see that he pulled out your spider man hoodie. you curse silently as you throw it on. 

you come back out of the room and when he sees you wearing it he has a little victorious smirk on his face. 

you grumble something about him being an insufferable prick but that’s soon forgotten when he places a plate of tacos in front of you. 

you just look at him. 

“i didn’t even have tortillas how-“

“i made them”

“of course you did”

“eat, you need food”

“i know how to handle being drunk o’hara”

he just shakes his head at you 

“just eat will you?”

you don’t want to just to spite him.. but they look so good and you’re so hungry so you do. 

and he was right, you feel 10 times better after. 

you sit drinking more water as he cleans the dishes 

“why are you doing this”

“doing what”

“this.. everything, taking care of me”

“you’re my employee, it’s my responsibility as your boss-“

“oh cut the crap as my boss you give me a stern talking to and tell me to take a day off. not whatever this is”

“then it’s a favor in return for all the work you’ve done”

“that’s what you pay me for”

“what would you like me to say”

“the truth” you say slightly mocking him from that night

“ay eres tan— look i’m just trying to look out for you can i not do that”

you are so—

“if you can’t be honest about it? no.”

you get up

“i’m going to bed, lock the door on your way out”

“no thank you?”

“whatever, thank you, good night.”

you go into your room and shut the door behind you. you go to grab your heating pad from the top of the book shelf but you’re short.. and still drunk and you stumble and cause a few things to tumble from the shelf and you to fall over. 

“damn it”

“y/n? estas bien?

you good,you okay

“fine just dropped something i told you to leave” 

you don’t hear anything else so you assume he left until you hear your bedroom door click open slightly. 

“y/n?” 

he sees you on the floor and pushes the door open and comes to your side. but you push him away and get up on your own

“i’m. fine.”

“you fell.”

“really i hadn’t noticed” 

you turn around and start to walk to the bed but he steps after you capturing the front of your waist from behind with his hand. 

you don’t deny that his touch lights your skin on fire but you’re pissed at him. you know he’s emotionally stunted but that doesn’t mean he gets to not talk to you for weeks after what happened. 

you turn around quickly, his hand now on your back, you don’t move it

“hell no. you don’t get to come in here playing my white knight after you ignored me for weeks AND ignored my medical advice. something could have gone wrong with the injection and i would have no way of knowing. you could have compromised your health and the team. now i can handle whatever commitment issues you have because i don’t expect anything from you but i do at least feel i am owed an explanation and at the very least enough professional respect to follow my directions when it comes to your health and safety.” 

he just stares down at you dumbfounded, before a look of guilt washes over his face. his shoulders slump slightly and he doesn’t even try to argue. 

“really? you’re not going to say anything?”

you push his hand off of you and turn your back to him again. 

he whispers softly 

“cariño..”

“no. no. do not.”

“cariño please dejame explicar”

let me explain 

“stop calling me that”

“why”

“because that word is supposed to mean something, i don’t want to hear it from you when you’re not capable of doing or even feeling the things that come with that word”

“i-“

you sigh feeling deflated as the anger drains from your body you face him again 

“just go o’hara, please”

he’s genuinely pouting now, he looks sorry and part of you wants to give him a chance to prove you wrong. but you can’t risk it. 

“y/n-“

“~o’hara~”

he sighs 

“i’m sorry.. why don’t you uhm.. take the day off tomorrow, curtesy of your boss or at least come in late”

you don’t answer 

“just.. see how you feel in the morning yeah?”

“yeah fine i’ll see”

he leaves without another word and you collapse into your bed yet despite how tired you are you don’t fall asleep for a while. 

[lvrsturniolo]

Tumblr Girls C.S

warnings: slight smut, lowk toxic, angst.

“We fuck off n’ on, off n’ on, only ever really fuck off n’ on”

Chris had been back in Boston for about two days before hitting you up. You knew it would be a mistake to let him back in, knowing his only intentions were to fuck you and go right back to LA, but you couldn’t stay away. That’s why you were currently under him, bracing yourself as he slowly pushes his length into you

“C-Chris! I-ngh o-oh my God” you whine softly as he finally bottoms out inside of you.

He lets out a low groan as he’s finally inside you again. He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust. “God I missed this pretty pussy so much baby” He murmurs, voice low with desire. He starts to slowly move inside of you, eyebrows pulling together in pleasure as he’s finally able to be back inside of you, each thrust deliberate and deep, as if he’s savoring the moment as if it’s the last, which he also knows it’s not.

“Never see her these days cause m’ often gone”

Another day had passed and Chris was gone. After the night you shared, you woke up to an empty bed, like always. Everything felt so special in the moment, but you weren’t stupid, or were you? For always letting him back even when you know he only thinks of you as an object. You wonder where he is right now, and the truth is, he’s on a plane, on his way back to Los Angeles, where he had a completely different life away from you, and you’re probably not going to hear from him until he’s back in Boston, just like always.

“When I’m home off tour never stop for long”

He’s back in Boston. He and his brothers “surprise party tour” has led him right back to your bed, the night of the show, right after it was over.

“Ngh- oh- fuck, y’so good f’me baby. Pussy squeezin me so fuckin tight. Like- mph- like you were made for me baby. S’that right? Yeah? Tight lil pussy was made jus f’me” he groaned, pistoning his cock into you fast and hard as you moan, nails scraping down his shoulders and back before finding their way to his hair.

After the very intense session, he slowly pulls out of you, eyes softening as you wince from how over sensitive you are. “S’okay sweetheart, let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah? Can you stand up f’me?” He takes you to the bathroom, helping you onto the sink as he cleans you up with a warm washcloth. Kissing your forehead every time you whine from the oversensitivity.

“But after we fuck it’s over”

Then what? He’s gone before you know it, because that’s how it always is with Chris. You almost forget how close you used to be, but Los Angeles Chris Sturniolo was not the loser you knew in school. He wasn’t your best friend who’d come to you when he needed someone to talk to, to cry to, to complain to. No. He was the man who reached out to you when he was back in town to have a quick hookup, then go months pretending you don’t exist before shoving his way back into your life, just for one night.

“No, I can’t stay here n’ hold her”

You’d actually lost your virginity to Chris in junior year, he lost his that night too. It was a last minute decision, and it was amazing. Losing it to someone you trusted like that. He was big on aftercare, making you feel special, taken care of, after you’d had sex, which had became a regular thing after the first time. He loved taking care of you, showing you just how much you meant to him after as he did during. But not now. The boy Chris was, was more of a man that the grown version of him was now. This version of Chris, cleaned you up, and left. No taking care of you, no cuddling to sleep, no sweet nothings being whispered in your ear, nothing.

“Tomorrow act like I don’t know her”

You decided to reach out to Chris. He’d left early the next day, on his way to his next tour stop. Just a simple “hey! I just wanted to tell you it was great seeing you again, I really miss you, Chris. i hope you have a fun time on the road!!”

Read. He left you on read. Really? He was just inside of you the night before, calling you baby and telling you how good you were for him, and now he’s ignoring you like he doesn’t even know you? What the fuck.

But that’s what you expected. This Chris, this Chris was just a random person with a face you used to love. There’s one thing you know for sure, and that this Chris is not the boy you knew. He no longer cared for you. He no longer wanted to be with you, he no longer gave a shit about you.

mel speaks: this was shitty but I wanted to post smtn

[glitterguts13]

I don't know if you do Playable Character x NPC but could you write something about Argenti x Velite with Argenti doting on a pregnant Velite and Velite complaining but secretly enjoying it.

OK BUT LIKE, THEY WOULD BE SUCH A CUTE COUPLE, RIGHT??? I hope we see Velite with Argenti again, I love me a good Tsundere. However, since we don't really...have that much on Velite, I'm just gonna do some headcanons on this one!

TW: mention of abortions

Velite's pregnancy came as a shock to no one but him. In his mind, Argenti is just...a casual lover, nothing serious! He wouldn't get caught up with someone like that, he's too weird! Even if Argenti wasn't such a weirdo he'd never want someone as ordinary as Velite...

Except in Argenti's mind he and Velite have been dating for months and he's already hearing wedding bells. They might be separated a lot because of their different paths in life, but Velite always finds himself crossing paths with the knight.

Velite doesn't take the news well. It was just a routine physical exam that the IPC required, nothing was supposed to come up! He'd been feeling just fine, why would the doctor have even run a pregnancy test at all?? These exams were just to make sure he didn't pick up any weird space viruses along the way!!

Doesn't tell Argenti and fully plans on getting an abortion. It would...be better that way. If Argenti knew, he wouldn't want Velite around anymore and, well, Velite didn't want that either. A baby would get in the way of his work, and he didn't have any family or friends to help so...maybe another time in the future.

Except the night before he's supposed to go in, Argenti shows up, all smiles and holding a massive bouquet of roses.

"My love, how I've missed you!"

Velite nearly throws up on Argenti's shoes.

It doesn't take long for him to blurt out he's pregnant, and he's getting an abortion and Argenti doesn't need to worry about it, it's going to be taken care of, just don't be mad about it-

Argenti looks positively gutted.

"What? What are you looking at me like that for?? I told you already, I'll get rid of it!"

"Is that...what you really want to do?" it catches the IPC worker off guard and he falters.

"It's what you want me to do, right?"

Velite didn't expect the hurt expression that Argenti gets, how just how safe and warm he feels when the knight pulls him into his arms and holds him close.

"Of course not!" he chides gently, "I'd be honored to raise a child with you! What more beautiful thing could there be in the world?" he does stop, holding Velite at arm's length, "However...I will respect whatever decision you make. It is not my right to control your choices, but please know I would be happy to raise a child with you...should you want that?"

Now Velite is totally thrown off his balance because WTF was that about?? Argenti was supposed to be mad about this, not sweet, kind, caring, understanding, and, excited?? Fuck.

Velite is a sobbing mess because damn pregnancy hormones, and it takes a long night of talking things over and hashing out feelings that the IPC worker, quite frankly, didn't want to talk about at all.

He calls and cancels the appoint the next morning, and Argenti is thrilled, and truthfully, despite denying it it, Velite is happy too.

Argenti is an attentive lover on a normal day, but now that his beloved is pregnant? Oh, he is nearly insufferable with how sweet and thoughtful he is.

The smell of his shampoo causing Velite to feel nausea? Throw it all out, he'll get something unscented. Velite has cravings at 2 in the morning and isn't going to sleep until he gets it? Where in the galaxy does Argenti need to go, his ship is fueled up and ready. Morning sickness? He's got a cold washcloth, a bottle of water, and his toothbrush set up. Aching feet? Foot rubs for hours, even is his thumbs start to cramp.

"Knock it off, you don't have to baby me so much," Velite argues, whining as Argenti helps him undress for the night and change into something more comfortable.

"Nonsense. It is my duty to make you as happy as possible." Argenti nuzzles into Velite's neck, trailing kisses down his shoulders.

"You aren't obligated to do anything, I told you from the start, I don't want you feeling forced."

"Do I seem as if I'm being forced?" Argenti asked, genuinely. Velite groaned and shook his head.

"No. That makes it even worse!" plopping down in bed, the IPC worker lets his head fall back against the pillows and runs a hand over the swell of his belly.

"I don't understand, why is that 'worse'?" Argenti sits beside him, looking like a puppy that had just been dropped kicked across a field. Christ, Velite wasn't equipped to handle this.

"Because...I don't deserve having you...do all this for me. What am I gonna do when you're gone?"

"I will have my phone with me at all times, just say the word and I will be right back here as quickly as I can be-"

"No. I mean, what am I going to do when you leave." it takes a second for Argenti to fully grasp what Velite is saying, and when he does, much to Velite's shock, he laughs.

"My love, I'm never going to leave you. I love you. Why would I ever leave someone I love?" Velite really didn't understand Argenti, how could someone think so simplistically about such complex things??

"Because you get tired of me? You fall out of love? Find someone better?" the list is cut off when Argenti leans in and presses a kiss to Velite's lips.

"I am not the sort of man to promise my heart to someone carelessly. When I say that I love you, I mean that. I mean that I love everything about you, that I can not bear the thought of living in this world without you. You are the light in my sky, the colors in my vision, the reason my heart bea-"

"Ok, ok, ok, I get it!" Velite presses a hand over Argenti's mouth to silence him, cheeks burning hot, "Stop saying such embarrassing things! Look, you've gone and gotten the baby all riled up now!" the IPC worker whines. Eyes sparkling with delight, Argenti presses his cheek against his lover's belly, nuzzling it gently.

"Ah, our little one agrees with me! Yes, let your mother know how much we love him and how wonderful, smart, and caring he is. How we're going to shower him with love for as long as w-"

A pillow is brought down over Argenti's head with a soft pwff. Velite's whole face was bright red, the color creeping up to his ears and down his neck, in a way Argenti found truly breathtaking.

"I said stop it!"

[crispylilworm]

Maybe I’m in the minority here, but I am so proud of Watcher and this next big step of the release of their own streaming site. I am glad they are going the route of maintaining the quality content we’ve come to love and expect.

Yes - that means for the latest releases, they are putting up a paywall. I understand why some people are upset about the news, but they literally just announced the move and haven’t even discussed potential free-with-ads or delayed free releases or anything beyond their premium content yet.

Want to be mad? Sure but direct that anger at YouTube, not the Watcher boys. Youtube has been continually shifting its favor to Shorts and other short-form clickbait content. This is why you hear people complain about YouTube “dying” or felt the quality drop off while overall site views are at record highs - it’s because the algorithm pushes these short-form videos. The long-form and higher quality unscripted content like that put out by Watcher is losing favor, and losing the ability to even survive, in the platform.

Do I love the idea of a paywall for my favorite content? No of course not - but you need to trust that this was a calculated decision done by Watcher to grow and survive. We just witnessed months of writers and actors strikes for creatives to make sure workers are fairly paid, so I will not be mad at Watcher for setting up their company in a way their workers and talent are fairly paid without cutting corners in content.

I believe (manifesting) that the individuals who are able to support Watcher through payments during this time will help subsidize the content creation so there is still free content out out for all to enjoy - this is just the beginning and we don’t know their full plans. To me, this is no different than Patreon-exclusive content.

The transition to their new site will bumpy, but I will support them even if I can’t pay. I am excited to see what happens and hope for some free content in the future. I honestly think we’ve been spoiled with quality free content so far and I am forever thankful for it, excited to see what the future brings.