#verse — blues run the game.

[randomnameless]

Just thinking about it but -

UO : MC learns the "greater" plot that explains the reasons - and their origins - why things happen, and picking the right choices, is rewarded with the best ending.

FE16 : Claude gets some infodump, still puts in danger the remaining Nabatean (granted Rhea dies off screen so it's not that important!) for being hunted for parts, still uses the shiny bow he got despite learning what, rather who it was, grows as much as a beansprout in a dark closet regarding his beliefs about isolation and acceptance, even after listening to Rhea's history about how humans fucked up her people and why she needs to hide her identity.

UO : Alain talks to Gilbert and Hodrick, learns his country is pretty privilegied compared to the other ones, doesn't want to take advantage of this position but wants to create a lasting peace between his kingdom and the other countries

FE16 : Claude spends between 3 weeks (Nopes) and 1 year (FE16) at least at school, doesn't bother to learn anything (or it doesn't show!) about Fodlan and ends up with some hilarious takes like "Church BaD and promotes isolationism but my slave holders besties from House Gonerils are chads", complete with "Fodlan is to blame when it comes to having relationships with its neighbours when they just want to engage in one little bloodbath every thursday" only discovering water to be wet when the goddess' avatar becomes his teacher.

Guess which game is praised for its "complex" and "masterpiss" of a writing?

[turnandface]

continued from here (@ischaron)

Rian's sleep talk had mostly been murmurs. A soft word, spoken here or there as his bedfellow shifted and curled into his side. Not that Beau had been bothered. He found his mumbles soothing, but the soft words also managed to induce a kind of melancholy as he watched Rian, an arm around him. And he had watched him for a little while, his heartstrings twisted and wrung tight, but his head riding on for miles. This was probably nothing more than a one-night thing, but it wasn't often a man stayed after they spent the night together. Or let him stay, for that matter. Rian had, though, and it might have been the fact that he let him stay. Or how they'd stumbled back onto his bed after the door closed. Crushing their bodies together, filled with need. And it had been the night before, the drinks and shared stories that revealed them to be two sides of the same coin. Beau knew he wanted to see him again.

Now began a song and dance. And while Beau knew the words and the steps, each time, it seemed like it had been a long time since he'd done either. He could sing the wrong lyric, miss a beat, or start the chorus too early, and he could just as easily stumble over his feet or step out of time. He never fancied himself too smooth a talker, and he often wanted to linger.

Beau watches Rian carefully in the low light that slips in through the borders of the windows and underneath the curtains, a bedhead of black curls and a grin he can't help but smile back at. He can feel Rian's eyes on him when he asks his questions, and he shifts in the covers, nodding once at the first and his cheeks glowing a subtle rose at the second. "Nothin' particular… whispers under your breath." Last night, he was bolder; he might have teased, leaned back on his elbows, saying, "Come here, and I'll tell you," even if it was soft nothings.

"It's cute."

[gutsby]

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

One shots for the Waiting Game ‘verse

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

When you find an old shirt of Mr. Miller’s lying around, you can’t resist. When he finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Cry, Baby

Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Just Peachy [anal]

Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Wingman (himbo!Joel crackfic)

Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Watch Your Mouth

Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Love Tap (dad!Joel)

Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

If You Like Piña Coladas (neighbor!Joel)

You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

My Body, His Choice [freeuse]

After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Who’s Your Daddy? (stepdad!Joel)

You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Make It Stick

Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Stiff: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Cowboy Killers

On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Seeing Pink [DD/LG]

Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take.

Easy to Please (sleazy landlord!Joel)

Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Wants and Needs (sugar daddy!Joel)

Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Bigger in Texas

Joel won’t fit.

Marcus Acacius

Bloodline

The General needs an heir.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Requests are open!

[turnandface]

One second, he's riding after him, both sets of their horse's hooves heavyset on the ground like thunder, kicking up black dirt, Rian calling out after him. And Beau can only half hear him, the beat of Pete's hooves blending with the drum of his heart in his ears. The next, Rian's lunging at Pete's reins, and Beau's eyes widen as he gives him only a frantic glance and a cry, his name muddled in agitation and worry. The hell was he thinking? Beau pulls back on the reins, leaning back in his saddle, too shocked to get any words out to his horse. At the same time, Rian's hand connects with the leather fastened around the bit.

Pete kicks up mud as he skids to a halt, the force of the stop nearly throwing Beau -- who hadn't realized how fast they'd been riding. Something Rian said offhandedly had been enough to cause tension to resurface. The strain between them, tangible in the air, like the smell of rain, like the tingle on your neck after lightning streaks across the sky. And Beau hadn't said a word when he took off.

"You're a damned fool!" He finally exclaims, his tone harsh and scalding. Part of him wants to climb off his horse and start walking- the part that wants to know if Rian would follow him or decide that Beau is more trouble than worth him. It's partly the fear that Rian would let him walk away that keeps him in the saddle.

"Could've gotten yourself-" he makes eye contact with Rian, and his throat catches. His cheeks are bright pink, frustrated tears forming in the corners of his eyes. There's a silent fury that coils in himself, that rattles its tail like a warning, and a tongue so apt for venom that reminds him much of his own father. He bites down on it hard. Beau glances away, pursing and gnawing at the inside of his bottom lip. He can't stand to look into his wandering brown eyes. He catches Rian's lips moving out of the corner of his eye, but he's not paying attention. A wound won't heal when you touch it, but what happens when the wound's already infected? If the infected won't let anyone close enough to clean it? Do you sit helplessly and watch it fester? Do you leave? "Talk about what? You're real goddamn hellbent on doing what you want. And telling me I can't say nothing about what you should and shouldn't do."

❝ @turnandface / BEAU .

❝ JUS' SLOW DOWN. ❞ THERE'S ANNOYANCE IN the way that he moves, here. Reaper's set a fast pace, but Beau's got a head start and he's WINNING by a long shot. Rian's holding onto his hat, and hooves are slamming onto the cool soft dirt and grass. Yet this isn't like the morning, nor the afternoon, nor anything like their USUAL banter with quirked lips and a dance in their eyes. He feels like he's lost.

❝ Can' we jus' talk ? ❞ His steed is spurred by his heels squeezing into her side, and he's quick to grab the reins of Beau's horse. It's not smooth, and he nearly falls out of his saddle, but he's successful. They're face to face and the pain that's etched in his partners is ECHOED on his own.

❝ Don' RUN from me. ❞

[lady-ashfade]

🫧 Table Of Contents 🫧

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

╰･ﾟ✧☽ I only make fics for readers, y/n's. Please read the rules because I feel bad when you request something and I can’t do it because you haven't read the rules. But I love all of you the same. You can call me ash, or anything you want to really. Also a chubby person runs this account.

[about to start classes so my writing is going to be delayed]

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Request WIP For Now

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Backup account is @lady-fadeash , You may follow @ms-fade for some 18+ fies, I know them well!

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ Information ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Rules For Requesting ´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Characters I write for. ´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Basic Prompts list ´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Quotes Prompts List ´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ My tag-list. ´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ A Place Of Reminders ´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Fics I Recommend

Takin by the talented @madame-fear please go check out their work!! She can write better then the moon and the stars

ꜜ -`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ Masterlists ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`- ꜜ

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Other Concepts

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Actor’s

╰･ﾟ✧☽ OC Concepts

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Tv Shows

╰･ﾟ✧☽ House Of The Dragon

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Percy Jackson

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Bridgerton

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Cobra Kai

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Stranger Things

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Umbrella Academy

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Julie And The Phantoms

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Wednesday

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Lockwood And Co

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Shadow And Bone

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Heartstopper

╰･ﾟ✧☽ The Walking Dead

╰･ﾟ✧☽ The Rookie

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Anime Category

╰･ﾟ✧☽ My Hero Academia

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Demon Slayer

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Movies

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Narnia

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Spider-Verse

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Marvel

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Karate Kid

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Blue Beetle

╰･ﾟ✧☽ DeadPoll

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Video Games

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Baldur’s Gate 3

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Fallout

[trancylovecraft]

(AOEX) The Blood Of An Unwilling Covenant

PART 7 OF 8: Lucifer

(Yandere Platonic Demon Kings (Ba'al) x Reader)

SERIES SUMMARY:

BARISTA'S NOTE: sECOND TO LAST PART LETS GO!!!!! GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★☀☾☁☂★

LAST PART ,AO3 LINK, SERIES MASTERLIST, NEXT PART

"Camera.. Check! Phone.. Check! Spare change of clothes.. Erm.."

Curtains half drawn over murky windows let light flood into the room, The early morning sun being not deterred by the soot dusting the window panes. It shone on the mess in the room, Shine rolling off ceramics and other illuminating surfaces.

Jars filled with demon bio-produce were piled up to the walls, Heavy-bound books of all sorts being just as tall. Clothes thrown everywhere, A mix of both hers and Lewins. All of it made for a gnarly sight and smell to come under.

But it was nothing compared to the current mess, If that was even possible. The old musty couch was strewn with more clothes than normal. TV still blaring some American cartoon as [F/N] paced back and forth between place to place.

She was somehow able to get around the place with relative ease. Opening up box after box stacked up top everywhere, Apartment still barely moved into.

"Heya.. You good there?" Lewin drawled as he watched [F/N] run back and forth to rummage through all the boxes in the room. Lewin himself was currently lazing upon the old burgundy couch, The one that had cushions torn and had been picked up on the side of the road by none other by the man himself.

[F/N] was almost foaming at the mouth, Even more so once she snapped her head over to him.

"Have you seen any of my clothes around here? I can't find the box with all my stuff in it- Ugh.." [F/N] winced once she drew her arm back out, A thick blue glow wrapped around it and hugging it tight with a slimy touch. A demon, And by the shape it took? No doubt a baby kraken.

Lewin, Ironically, Cracked a smile once he saw it.

"Oops, My bad!" He chuckled, Instantly raising a lazy hand to somehow shoo the demon away. "Linnaeus!"

And just as the demon had came, It had vanished at the summary of it's fatal verse. It seemed to writhe, Spasming and shaking before finally the grip around her loosened entirely. It fell, Hitting the floor as it's blue light started to flicker.

[F/N] looked at it's crumpled body, Disgust running through her features.

"Yeah, Keep your demons in their pens.. Damn it, Lew'.. This isn't the first time.." She scoffed, Pinching her brows with her now-free hand.

"Seriously.. You doin' good? I can see wrinkle lines appearing on your head." Lewin said, Gesturing to his own forehead hidden behind his mop of hair. She groaned, [F/N]'s eyes narrowing in on him.

"It's just.. I can't find my clothes and I need a separate pair in case these ones get ruined! Like I've already got my camera, A few notebooks.. Summoning papers, You know- But I still need my spare change and I can't find it for the life of me!" [F/N] exasperated, Sweat dusting her face.

"Don't you think you got enough?" Lewin said, Pointing over to the backpack sitting atop one of the heaps which so happened to be stuffed full of various items. All of which she listed, Including several other artefacts that seemed weird to where she'd be going.

"Not nearly! Since I wasn't able to go on the camping trip thing, I need to make sure I get everything right this time. It's gonna be a real big day for me!" [F/N] said as she turned back towards the boxes, Feverishly shifting through the contents once more.

Lewin grinned.

"Hah, You and me both.."

The True Cross Festival, The big day. Games, Dances, Fireworks, Food, Festivities. The event that every student in the school had been waiting for ever since they had been accepted into the institution.

Whispers of plans floated through the hallways, Excited chitters leading up to the day. God, [F/N] had been hearing it every second of the day just the week before. And now the big day was finally here.

For many it was a opportunity to ask out their crush due to the entry requirements, To others it was a time to relax and make memories. But to [F/N], It was a prime opportunity to investigate.

"Finally!" She grinned, Opening up another box to find all of her clothes packed neatly inside. Sweaters, Jeans and other types of accessories started to be yanked out of the box and into her arms.

Lewin watched as she piled another few pairs of clothing into her arms, Both for cold and hot weather and even another pair of underwear before hurriedly rushing over her bag and trying to stuff it all inside.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position on the old couch, Yawning lazily as he stretched.

"As I've said- You could really use to loose a few things in there, Ain't this suppose to be something you enjoy?" Lewin yawned once he finally stopped stretching, Staring at her from under his hair as she continued to try push the clothing into the overflowing bag.

"No- It's a way I can get more information about what's going down in there. Like the traitor and the blue night, The things we spoke about-" [F/N] said, Slightly wheezing as she tried to shove and shove everything down in there to no avail. Sweat gathering quicker on her face.

She tried once more, [F/N] pushing down the items on top.

All before she felt the arm of Lewin lightly tug at her wrist, Making her retract it quickly from her bag.

"Hey- What are you-"

"Oh yeah, Definetly overflowing.."

"Lewin- What are you doing?! Hey! Stop touching my stuff!"

"Keeping a few daggers in here? How'd you expect to get past security with all that?"

"Lewin stop it! It took ages to get everything in there! Stop it!"

"Okay, Maybe you can keep the summoning papers.."

"Thank you- HEY! That's my camera, Put it back! Put it back!"

"Aaaand, Ta-da!"

And just like that, The bag that [F/N] had so desperately tried to fill to the brim had depressed almost half it's weight before. Space now very much available inside, Only items spared being her general exorcism stuff and a few new things that Lewin had taken the liberty to throw in.

[F/N]'s jaw was as agape as her eyes, Staring into the new emptiness of her bag that Lewin had dared to meddle in.

"Lew'! Why the hell did you do that?! It took me ages to get everything in there, I need it all if I want to go snoop around in the school! You know, To help me get you evidence?!" [F/N] hissed as she placed her hands on her hips, Angrily staring up at Lewin who still had a lazy smile on his face.

He nodded, Scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah, Yeah. And you've been working really hard to do that! I mean you've already helped lead me to one of the traitors, And trust me, I appreciate that a bunch.. But I think you need to calm down." Lewin said.

[F/N] frowned as she looked at him, Aghast in her eyes yet somehow still mellowing out. Just a few months ago he had specifically told her to do some digging, Now he was telling her to stop it?

[F/N] scoffed.

"But.. But wasn't this something you wanted me to do? You know, Investigate? You can't tell me to stop once I've got invested in it too!" [F/N] exclaimed, Stepping closer to him.

Ever since she had the meeting in Mephisto's office, [F/N] had became just as enthralled as Lewin was in the investigation. Ever since she had gotten that horrid feeling about him, [F/N] knew that she needed to dig in more.

Snooping around teachers rooms, Sifting through file cabinets not meant for her. She had already gotten information and passed it over to Lewin, So after all this work how could he just tell her not to go further?

Lewin sighed.

"But I also said that you should get some friends, And hey! You have with all those exwires! I'm just thinking that you spend this time bonding like you kids usually do." Lewin explained as he in turn stepped closer, The two of them now staring eye to eye.

"They're not my friends.. They're just my classmates.." [F/N] said, And even she knew it was a lie.

"Whatever you say, Ya' munchkin. Just go out and have fun, Forget about the investigation for a few hours and I promise I'll let you throw rocks at the traitor I'm about to catch later." Lewin promised, Playfully reaching out a hand with his pinkie stuck up.

[F/N] huffed, Almost about to comment on his childish behaviour before she brushed it off and wrapped a pinkie of her own around his.

"Whatever.. You better keep your promise though, I've been dying to throw rocks at someone for ages now." She pouted, Pinky finger still firmly wrapped around Lewin's own.

He grinned.

"Of course. You just go have fun, Buy me a souvenir and I'll come back and pick you up at ten, Afterwards we'll hit a burger joint and then I'll let you throw rocks at him. Sound good?" Lewin asked.

[F/N] smiled.

"Yeah.." She said, Trying not to show her grin as she shied her view away from him.

And just like that, The hand that Lewin had joined with [F/N]'s pulled her closer. And before [F/N] knew it his thick arms wrapped around her, Bringing her into a hug.

[F/N] was surprised, Muscles tensing up as she felt his head rest atop hers which was currently pushed into the side of his chest. Lewin had not often hugged her before, Never showed much affection other than playful little punches.

But here he was, Bringing her in without restraint. [F/N] barely even cared about his horrible stench, Not when a hand rested on the back of her head, Another on her back. And just maybe, She started to relax.

Only a little.

"Now go scamper outta here, You're gonna miss your bus!" Lewin laughed as he pulled away from her, The silence he had undertaken before now broken. [F/N] was still standing in slight shock, Eyes wide as she looked up at him.

She blinked, Snapping back into reality.

"R-Right!" [F/N] exclaimed, Finally catching eye of the clock on the far wall. [F/N] tried to gather her thoughts once she gathered her stuff, Grabbing her bag strap and tossing it over her shoulder.

"See you soon, Lew'!" [F/N] called out, Finally reaching the door and turning the knob as she stepped out. She waved goodbye to him and he waved back with a lazy smile, Watching as she sprinted out the door.

A yellow raincoat hanging untouched on the hanger by the door.

☆♡☆

"Hey, Guys! Over here!"

The sun was held bright in the sky, A beautiful sight with no clouds to be seen, Just pure cerulean blue.

The uproar of chatter was already in the air, Sounds of people frolicking around the newly made stalls was the only thing in earshot. Rich smells of meat sizzling and the saccharine scent of sugar was also the only thing you could smell, The festival already starting to gain traction.

"Is that [F/N]? I thought she said she wasn't coming?" Konekomaru said, Turning his head as he watched her run over to them, Smiling slightly at being proven wrong.

"Huh? Oh- I guess she changed her mind!"

The air was fresh, [F/N] could tell as it flew behind her as she pranced over to the group standing just outside the entrance to the festivities. Their figures instantly recognisable as she stuttered to a halt in front of them.

"[F/N]! Thought you said you weren't coming?" Shima exclaimed incredulously as he watched her keel over to catch a breath, Eyes wide as he looked her up and down in her sweater and jeans combo.

"Change of plans.. Turns out I can make it after all.." [F/N] wheezed as she wiped the sweat off of her brow, Lungs burning as she raised herself back up to meet the eyes of her group.

Shima, Bon and Konekomaru. The trio of her classmates stood there in their own outfits, Ready for the festival. [F/N] tried to give them the best smile she could, Trying not to make it look like she hadn't dressed like a slob compared to them.

Bon huffed, Folding his arms.

"Seriously? I thought you said that you were gonna study instead since, You know, You failed your last demonic pharmaceuticals test?" He said as he raised a brow, Looking her up and down with that all too familiar judgemental stare.

[F/N] scoffed.

"And miss all the fun? Yeah no, I came to my senses!" [F/N] laughed as she lightly punched Bon on the side of the arm, Who suppressed a smirk as he lightly shoved her back. [F/N] cackled as she stuck out her tongue at him.

Bon rolled his eyes.

"You still need to study!"

"You still need to shut the fuck up!"

"Calm down you two, You're gonna cause a scene!" Konekomaru said, Moving so he was a human-barrier between the two.

Shima shook his head, Dramatically tutting as he looked at the two.

"Yeah, Exactly! You're really killing the mood you know, How am I suppose to get with hot girls if you two are bickering the entire time in the background? I still need to find a girl to get with so I can go to the dance festival later!" Shima whined as he gestured to the crowds packed behind him, All already enjoying the activities of the festival.

"Erm, I'm a girl?" [F/N] said, Gesturing to herself.

"I said hot girls, [F/N]." Shima replied with an innocent smile.

"HEY!"

[F/N] threw an insult back at Shima, To which Shima gave a passive-aggressive response. They barely even noticed when they got dragged off into the festival, Bon groaning as he lugged both [F/N] and Shima along with him, Konekomaru trying his best to calm the two down.

Only snapped out of it once the blaring noise caught up with her, A light shove by Bon and the smell of enticing meats. Blinking once she realised she was surrounded by a crowd and hundreds of stalls that seemed to muddle on the horizon.

She gulped, Sweat running down her brow with a slight smile.

This was gonna be a long day.

☆♡☆

"Aw man.. Never thought I'd say this, But it's good to get away from all the noise.. Huh?"

The sky was dark, Coloured the deepest of ebony blues and starless with all the light below. Unlike the morning there was a noticeable chill in the air, Either due to the passing time or the new altitude which the two had reached.

That saccharine scent was still lingering in the air, Beautiful tastes of all the food she had eaten still on her tongue. It was all so overwhelming to her, Even now as she stared down at the lights of the stalls did she still feel a rush.

One thing to the next, Perpetual motion. [F/N] had moved from stall to stall, Done party game after party game, Went through every classes activity set up from the festival and had laughed and screamed all the same.

They had met with Rin at his food stall and laughed along with him, They had went through the horror house and had gotten a good laugh when she watched Shima get scared by Shiemi. Izumo too they had passed not even a few minutes ago, Still lingering close by.

They had also lost Bon and Konekomaru somewhere else in the crowd, Konekomaru most likely going to talk with his date and Bon could be just about anywhere. So now it was just Shima and her, After everything that happened..

Dizzying, [F/N] felt. She sipped on the straw of the chocolate shake and let the taste try to calm her, Still cold in her hands and dripping down moisture from the sides. It helped, If only a little bit.

"You could say that again.. I mean, How many girls did you try to ask out?" [F/N] said to Shima as she lightly strolled beside him, High above the stalls in the higher part of the city. Looking lightly over the stone balcony to all the chaos below.

"Ugh! I can't even count and I usually always make sure to remember all the pretty faces I talk to!" Shima exasperated as he dragged his feet alongside her, Seemingly just as worn out from the celebrations as she was.

[F/N] rolled her eyes, Continuing to slurp on her milkshake.

"Just how much stuff I bought on it's own..! You know, My master insisted on emptying my bag before I got here and I'm actually kinda glad he did, Otherwise I wouldn't be able to carry all this.." [F/N] sighed as she readjusted the heaving backpack weighing her down, All stuffed to the brim with all the merchandise she knew her and Lewin would like.

He had slipped his card into her backpack, Something she had found out when rummaging through it. He had trusted her enough to spend his money wisely, Or more accurately trusted her to spend as much of his six-figure salary as she possibly could.

[F/N] smiled, Quietly thanking Lewin under her breath.

"..You and Lightning close?"

"Where'd that come from?" [F/N] asked as she turned to Shima, Who seemed to look back at her with a much more curious expression under the nights sky. Shima just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Dunno, I guess I'm just curious is all. Since you were already his apprentice before joining cram school or whatever, You two related or something?" Shima asked as they made their way towards the balcony, The one overlooking the sea of lights below and where the wind flowed openly.

[F/N] huffed as she continued to drink her milkshake, Leaning over on the stone railings to look out below.

"Not biologically, No. But you know that trope you see in movies? The dickhead older brother who always messes with your stuff and annoys you to high hell? Yeah, That's him." [F/N] said, Rolling her eyes with a slight smirk.

Shima smiled rather forlornly as he leaned over on the balcony like she did, Light reflecting in his eyes.

"Yeah, I get that." He laughed slightly.

"Ah, Okay. Cause of all your brothers, Right?" [F/N] asked as she drew her eyes off the crowds for only a moment, Just to see Shima stare right back off into it. He didn't smile, Just nodded slowly.

He didn't speak either, The smile drawn on [F/N]'s face starting to lessen at the sound of silence. Instead she just brought her eyes back over to the sea of lights, Looking at the crowds below enjoying the festivities.

[F/N] sipped on her milkshake, Tasting the chocolate on her tongue. She should have known that his brothers would've been something difficult to talk about, Ever since the trip to Kyoto she had known something was off.

Especially since the death of the eldest, [F/N] should've taken that as the first sign. She continued sipping on her milkshake, A sort of scratchiness starting to build up in her throat. Shima never really talked about his brothers, Not here nor there.

[F/N] continued to sip on her milkshake, The lights starting to become much more.. Bright. Her nose scrunched up as she turned her head up to meet Shima, Who now seemed to be looking back down at her.

He smiled, Almost awkwardly.

"..Shima, I don't feel so good." [F/N] told him as she finally removed the straw from her mouth, Looking at her milkshake with a sort of queasiness in her eyes. A lightness in her head, A new stutter when she tried to stand.

What was happening? Her fingers started to shake, The muscles much more relaxed than they were suppose to be as the milkshake fell to the floor and splattered across the rocks. She stumbled, [F/N] starting to see two of each in her vision.

Shima hummed, Watching her gait with an unconcerned gaze.

"That must be the Rophynol finally kicking in then." He replied casually as he watched her start to double over.

[F/N] raised her head weakly as she near doubled over, Stumbling back as she stared at him with wide eyes. What little gathered conscious she had left recalled that drug, As clear as day she knew what it was.

Rophynol, Otherwise known as the date-rape drug.

Causes symptoms of confusion, Dizziness, Drowsiness, Lack of coordination, Loss of motor control and slurred speech. Often used by scummy people to knock out an unwilling victim, Usually for the purpose of..

Oh,

Oh fuck.

"Get- Get.. Get away.. Away!" [F/N] tried to yell but it came out as a wheeze, Stumbling back, Almost tripping over on her own feet. It felt like the world was spinning around her, Shaking around like it was encased in a snow globe.

There was no one around to help her, Everyone was so enthralled by the entertainment below that no one dared to come up here. Everyone except her and Shima, No one else around to hear her pleads for help.

Her eyes were wild as she looked at him, Like a cornered animal ready to bite.

His was casual, Looking at her with some synthetic sympathy.

"Don't worry, It's not what you're thinking. I'm not that much of a creep! I slipped it into your shake when you weren't looking earlier, Sorry 'bout this but my boss said that I was to return with you unharmed so.. Had to get creative with how I got you and all!" Shima laughed as he scratched the back of his head, Smiling innocently as if nothing was wrong.

[F/N] wheezed.

What? What was he saying? Who was.. Who was he talking..?

Illuminati.

[F/N] couldn't.. Couldn't get.. Get away. Get away. She needed to get away, Run.. Run away. Lewin, She needed to get Lewin.. Something was.. Something..

Shima got up from his leaning position on the balcony, Slightly stretching with a small yawn as he did.

"Alright, [F/N]. I'm gonna need you to come with me now, Okay? I ain't going to hurt you, My boss would kill me if I did!" He joked as he strolled towards her almost convulsing body, Her eyes untamed and barbaric.

His hands reached out, And in that moment [F/N] cried out.

"Ah-!" Shima yelped out once he felt a slice of what felt like a knife cross his cheek, A searing pain starting to settle into his skin. Blood spurted out from the paper-cut like wound, Muscles tensing.

In [F/N]'s shaky hands was a summoning paper, In her stupor somehow able to pull them out and cut her thumb.

Sylphs floated around her, Glowing an angry luminescent blue and the air around them much fresher than before, Angry faces starting to dart towards him like arrows.

"Aha-! You really are impressive, Should've expected as much from an Arc Knight's apprentice!" Shima complimented in a swift moment, Pulling out his k'rik from within a pocket of his suit and extending it to it's full length.

The gold gleamed in the air, The hoops on the end rattling as he slammed it down towards the oncoming sylphs.

But it stopped.

Before the end of his staff could hit the floor, The fresh air emitted by the sylphs had vanished from the sight. Shima paused in his movements, Eyes raising up to realise that they had disappeared entirely.

He blinked, Sight lowering down.

[F/N] laid fallen upon the rocky pavement, Mouth ajar and dripping in her own saliva. Eyes rolled up to their whites as she convulsed on the floor. The sylphs gone with her, Disappeared once she had finally fallen unconscious.

Shima let out the biggest sigh of his life.

Luckily he didn't need to deal with [F/N], Who had already shown skill incredible and insanely difficult to deal with talents in taming. It would've been impossible to capture her without any sedative, And he needed this to go smoothly.

He still had to find Izumo, Of course!

☆♡☆

"Honey..?!"

"Daddy!!"

The cries of the mans family called out from behind him, Echoing up and out of the dingy stairwell they stood in.

It was cold, Frigid even. If it wasn't for the welcoming warmth outside it could've been mistaken for the winter, Mostly due to the freezer-like chill and the damp dripping conditions around them.

The bloody and beaten man was knelt towards the floor, Keeled and prostrated before The Paladin, An Arc Knight and an entire legion of exorcists, All surrounding him like a pack of dogs ready to snap and bite down onto his flesh.

"We're only getting started now.. As you can see, Your task has ended in failure." Lewin mused as he stood before the shaking man, A grin on his face as he almost looked fascinated by the dribble of blood spurting out from his wounds.

"Could you quickly tell us what's on at the big event?" His family, Terrified and shaking, They called out to him in horror. Lewin paid them no mind as he moved forward, Bending his knees and crouching down towards him.

The man still had his own ichor dripping down his face, Iron tasted teeth turning into a snarl.

"Monster!" He barked, Blood splattering onto the floor in front of him.

"Uh oh! Should you be using such an attitude?" Lewin laughed with a child-like smile as he lowered closer to the man, A gleam in his eyes as he spoke. "I'm gonna have to ask your wife and son!"

The mans bloodshot eyes widened at that, Flicking back from Lewin to his family in the matter of seconds. Blood poured out of his mouth faster than his expression turned sour, Horrified as he watched his family be restrained by a group of exorcists.

He shook his head, Eyes agape as they connected with his wife's.

"Don't.. They don't know anything!" The traitor sputtered as he turned back to face Lewin, Who smiled all the same at him. His wife and son, His pride and joy. They wouldn't.. They wouldn't dare…

Would they?

Lewin chuckled as his eyes seemed to part from under his hair, His elongated pupils and a gleam sharper than a sword in his eyes. The man only watched in horror, Listening to him as he spoke.

"Why bother acting like a good guy now?" Lewin asked as he examined him from his bloody head to severed toes. That sadistic smile downturned, Much more malicious now. "Both of us are monsters in this regard. Cut it out."

Lewin turned his head to meet the eyes of the mans family.

"Then.. Shall we start?" Lewin asked and suddenly the group of exorcists started to pull and manhandle the mans kin, Hands on their shoulders starting to tug them back. Their eyes widening, Struggling to no avail within the hands of the exorcists.

The man gasped.

"Daddy!" His son called out, Terrified face already bursting with tears.

"W-What are you doing..?!" The traitor called out. His expression petrified as he watched his family start to be dragged away into the sea of exorcists surrounding them, His wife wailing as she tried to call out for her son, Her husband all the while yelling for them to take their hands off her.

The man cried.

"W-We're kidnapping two girls hiding within the Japanese division, Both within the hour!" He called out as Lewin raised to his feet, The man watching him with both ire and fear in his eyes. "They're important for our organisation and our goals!"

Lewin frowned, Looking down at the man as he had finally given him the information he had wanted to know. He hummed, Resting his hands on his hips.

"Their names are?" He asked as he looked down at him.

The traitor gulped, Tasting his own blood.

"Izumo Kamiki..!" He rasped. Lewin stepped closer, Almost urging him to go on as the entire exorcist legion listened on.

"..And [F/N] Light!"

Lewin's heart stopped.

☆♡☆

A blinding white muffled by blurred vision, That was all [F/N] could see.

It felt like she was on a ship sailing on a billowing sea, Waves rocking the boat back and forth along the waves as seafoam sloshed at the sides. Rainy too, Pattering against the wild wind of the sails and the rickety wood of the body.

[F/N] wasn't in control of the wheel, Not able to steer her way through the rushing waves or the inky black of the clouds above. She wasn't able to see either, The rain too thick and the wind too fast to even see a proper route out.

Lewin.. Where was her brother?

Her eyelids raised, Though heavy and numb she managed to wretch them open. That blinding white became so much more prominent, So much more scorching to her eyes as she groaned at the sudden light.

"Ah.. You're awake."

A voice like stricken thunder shook her awake, Her eyes becoming lightweight as they shot open to come face to face with a blindingly bright room. Her body felt numb, Unbelievably so. As she rolled her shoulders she barely felt the cushions against them, Nor the clothes it pushed against.

[F/N] groaned, Her heart beginning to pound in her chest especially once she saw a humanoid blur come into focus. It seemed to sit across from her on what appeared to be.. A rather antique looking couch?

"L-Lew.. Lewin..?" [F/N] mumbled out. Her mind in shambles and her vision unfocused. What happened to her? Did she pass out on the couch? Did Lewin carry her home? [F/N] sniffled slightly, Head spinning as she tried to focus her vision.

"You must be confused.. I understand. Your body must be aching, I understand that too. I apologise for the way we had extracted you.. However it was deemed to be the most painless out of our options.." What?

That didn't sound like Lewin. That didn't sound like the jovial tune that sung every time he spoke. It sounded much more delicate, Much more bleak. [F/N] didn't recognise that voice, It certainly wasn't Lewin.

Opening her eyes a bit further, She tried to see through the blinding light.

"W-Who are..-"

Her eyes finally focused on a man sitting adjacent from her, Upon a rather expensive looking couch from the renaissance era. [F/N]'s breath hitched in her throat, Eyes widening, Not caring about the light now-

It was a man.

[F/N] felt her heart stop entirely at the sight of him, Her mouth growing dry. He sat right in front of her on the opposite couch, One leg over the other with posture that could make an old lord envious.

His hair was a beautiful blonde, One that shone white under the candle-light of the candelabra above. His eyes a glorious viridian like the tailfeathers of a rosella, Pupils cut down into slits stared at her with a soft gleam-

He was a demon.

[F/N] wanted to run.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you.. [F/N]. This meeting is long overdue.."

She felt a wave of unease wash over her, Something was incredibly- Incredibly wrong. It wasn't the way he sat or the way he looked- No- It wasn't even the evident rot festering on his skin.

But it was just the air he gave off, So subtly overwhelming. A pit in her stomach forming as she looked at him closer and closer. He presented himself as dignified, As angelic even- But something about that just made [F/N] want to turn her head and puke-

He wasn't right. He was off-

[F/N] felt bile rise in the back of her throat.

"My name is Lucifer, Commander of The Illuminati and The King of Light." Lucifer spoke, His emerald eyes gleaming under the luminescence.

[F/N]'s heart stopped.

Her hands grasped the edges of the couch she sat on with a grip that could crush stone. The.. The King of Light? Lucifer? It couldn't be. But every cell, Every molecule, Every atom was screaming at her to run-

Something that could only be achieved by such accursed royalty.

"You are currently sitting within my estate, Again, I apologise for your rather abrupt summoning here." Lucifer spoke up once more as he slowly rested one of his legs over another, A hand gesturing towards the table. "Please, Feel free to indulge. These were specifically procured to your taste, You do enjoy sugar, Correct?"

[F/N] didn't want to eat, She wanted to puke. Her throat was dry yet she could do little but reach a trembling hand over to the collection of treats upon the table top. Trays of tarts, Plates stacked with parfait all on this antique little table.

Her fingers fumbling before grasping a macaroon, Her eyes never leaving the demon sitting across from her.

[F/N] couldn't even think.

Lucifer's face never changed. Never ticked, Never twitched. Watching calmly as she began to nibble on the outer shell of the macaroon, The one that happened to be the same flavour she had grown to favour. A gentle hum erupted from his throat.

[F/N] flinched.

"Is it to your liking?" Lucifer asks her, His expression unmoving as [F/N] froze up on the spot. [F/N] felt her mind race at such a simple question, Swallowing back what little of the macaroon she had ingested.

Don't be scared- Don't- Just don't try to look him in the eye- His eyes- Just don't-

"..Y-Yes- Uhm-" [F/N] blurted out. It came out hoarse as her hand darted up to pat her throat, Her jugular tensing.

"Homare." Lucifer called out, His voice a little louder than the melodious tone he held before. [F/N]'s eyes darted to her right as she heard firm, But swift footsteps make their way over to the table.

CLANK!

[F/N] gulped. Two tea cups were placed onto the table. Liquid pouring. A petite woman standing by [F/N]'s side with an ornate porcelain teapot in hand, Contrasted by the adorned look on her Illuminati uniform.

When did get she here?

Homare didn't look at [F/N] at all, Her eyes kept on the from behind her glasses. Lips thinned in a tight line. As she finished pouring the liquid, [F/N] quickly took the teacup. Anything to avoid his eyeline.

"You must be wondering why you're here." Lucifer spoke up once more, Homare's presence going ignored as she began to pour the simmering hot tea into the second cup. [F/N] bit her lip.

"L-Listen- I don't have any information to give you." [F/N] quickly said, Her words blurring together. "I don't- I don't get that kind of access. I've never been to- I've never even been to Italy..! I-"

"You are not here for information, We are aware you aren't privy to that kind of information." Lucifer cut in calmly as Homare finished pouring the tea into his cup, Gently picking it up as she drew back away from them, Somewhere back into the room.

[F/N] gulped.

"T-Then why-"

"You've caused quite a stir in Gehenna, Though I'm sure you are aware of that by now." Lucifer spoke, Taking a sip of his tea. "Even amongst my siblings, The other kings, You've made quite an impression on them."

Lucifer lowered the teacup from his lips, His eyelids fluttering as he set it down amongst the array of desserts on the table. Irises flicking back

"I have been hearing about you for quite a long time.. Ever since Astaroth had returned speaking of a little human girl who had caused his vessel's heart to start beating.." Lucifer trailed off, For once, His eyes narrowed. "I had excused it as the delusion brought on by his rapidly decaying body.. But then it was Iblis and Egyn.. Who both haven't stopped mentioning you, Even to this day.."

[F/N]'s grip on the tea cup tightened as he continued on, Memories of the day she had met the pair of kings flashing in her mind. They had remembered her, They didn't let go- Her penchant-

This was what Azazel had warned her about.

"I've been wanting to meet you, You see." Lucifer spoke, A glint appearing in the shimmer of his eyes. "Your.. Penchant, As you call it, I want you to explain it to me. Tell me how you inflict it on other demons, As it has become rather troubling.. Tell me, How do you make them believe they feel human love?"

[F/N] wanted to scoff, She really did.

Human love? As if such a creature could comprehend it.

Human love was gentle, Human love was passionate, Yet there was no string of words to ever describe it. You could call it kind, You could call it exciting. Bonding, Connecting, Warming.

But none of these were ever things such a monster could understand.

"I.. I-I don't know- I can't control it." [F/N] tried to explain, Ashamed of the terror rushing through her veins as she tried to make sense of her words. "I-It's not like I'm doing it on purpose- It just happens when I meet them, That- That somehow they just become more.. Friendly..?"

The word friendly tasted like venom on her tongue.

"I-I don't know how to explain it- I don't know how it happens. Just.." [F/N] took in a shaky breath, Raising her head up to him, Humiliated by what she was about to do. "P-Please, Let me go. I just want to go home- I don't have anything to give you just..! Please.."

Begging.

It made her feel disgusting.

But she needed to get out of here, Out of here before he became affected too.

Lucifer hummed, Unaffected by her words as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting in. He had picked up his tea again and began to sip on it once more, His body still tense, The rot on his skin continuing to fester.

"So you can't control it.." Lucifer mumbled as he peered down at the liquid circling in his teacup. [F/N] was sat on baited breath. Well aware of the eyes on her, The body guards, The Illuminati members that she was unable to see stationed about the room.

"N-No..- So could you please just.. Please let me go." [F/N] spoke quietly, Yet desperately, Trying her best to convince The King of Light to let her go. Like a mouse begging a cat to let it out from in-between it's claws.

Lucifer didn't respond. Just sat there. Staring down at his tea.

"P-Please.. I'm only an exwire, I couldn't do anything even if I tried-" The grip on the teacup handle tightened.

[F/N] cut herself off as she watched his jaw tighten, Shoulders squaring, The teacup beginning to shake from the sheer grasp he had on the handle.

"Commander..!"

CRASH!

[F/N]'s eyes widened as she watched the teacup slip from his fingers, Shattering on impact at the edge of the table. Lucifer groaned under his breath, Keeling over, His trembling gloved fingers grasping the ledge of the table.

Homare, The woman from before rushing over to his side followed by a small fleet of guards. [F/N] pushed herself back in suprise, Hadn't expecting the crowd as they rushed to their superiors side.

"What the-"

"It appears this body is much weaker than I had thought..-"

Lucifer grasped the side of his cheek, Where [F/N] watched as the decay visibly grew. She felt her eyes widen as Homare helped steady him. Her attention focused on him and only him, Her lips thinned. [F/N] blinked.

Was this her chance?

Demon Kings, Their bodies unable to handle their strength, Decaying faster the bigger they are. It was only correct that the strongest amongst them would be in constant pain, Constant torture.

She knew what she needed to do- To try.

[F/N] slowly released her grip on the couch. Lucifer keeled over, His guards and right-hand focused soley on him. Nudging herself to the side, Further, A little more. [F/N] needed to find summoning paper, Or at least something to prick her thumb-

[F/N] didn't expect to get far, Not without her dear sylphs-

CRASH!

[F/N] yelped.

Trays and platters fell to the floor, The desserts crumbling against the floor to make way for the arm that lunged out from amongst the small group. A hand grasped onto her wrist. A thinning, Shaky, Sickly hand with such unbelievable strength.

A pair of green eyes were illuminated through the parting of silvery hair, Wide, Staring at her. His instincts and his reflexes unmatched. [F/N] stared into them, Her throat going dry-

"Do not move-"

THUMP!

It was like a pin had been dropped in a silent room, Or a scream erupting within a library. It was the kind of thing that could be felt from miles away, Like the devastation of a tsunami or the the heat scorching off the sun.

And it was without any noise, Not much anyway.

His hand let go. [F/N] pushed herself back onto the couch, Her legs almost kicking in her scurry, Trying to get as far away from him as possible.

THUMP!

She knew what had happened when Lucifer had gasped for air, Like a drowning man taking his first breath of air. When his face moved like it had muscles underneath, Not tin and clockwork.

The guards all made barks of concern as he collapsed back onto the couch. Body jerking. His eyes wide as he stared up at the ceiling, Heaving, His chest raising up and down at an unnatural pace. His expression, It was-

"Commander..! Are you..-!"

"T-This heart.. This.." Lucifer breathed, In and out, His body splayed against the couch as his eyes lit up. The words of Homare went completely ignored. "This vessel-! T-This body..!"

Lucifer's hands grasped his vessel, One grasping the fabric and flesh covering his heart and the other almost frantically trailing up the rot that festered on the side of his face. His breathing ragged, Yet his body calm and almost relaxed.

"Commander..?" Homare's eyes widened as she watched him, Raising up as her eyes stared on with confusion. Lucifer grasped his chest, Where his heart was, His breathing slowing. Calming. If only a bit.

He shuddered, An audible shiver running down his spine. The fleet of guards stepped away from him, All looking at one and other at the scene. It was almost like his body had melted into the cushions, Relaxing, Like the numb procured from a good night's sleep.

"This body..!" Lucifer breathed out, His eyes aglow as he stared up at the ceiling above. His hand shook where it grasped his heart, The organ that began to thump. "There is no pain- I- What is.. It feels.. Good- No. It feels great..!"

Lucifer stirred, His head almost lolling to the side as he sat forward on the couch. His eyes looked almost dizzy, And if not for his unsightly self-control he would've collapsed right back onto the cushions.

[F/N] flinched when his head raised.

He was affected.

Lucifer's eyes snapped onto her, Widening, Watching.

"You..-!"

His voice sounded like he was parched, His eyes lighting up when he finally drew his attention back to her.

[F/N] could only yelp once she was yanked forward. When those hands grasped onto her wrists and tugged her forward. She almost collapsed over the table and the fallen trays, Barely grasping onto the edge to save herself.

"T-This was it..! I understand it now.. What my siblings were raving about, This is it..!" Lucifer rasped as he pulled her closer with such unthinkable strength, His stare scorching, Looking down at her- "You.. I understand now, Why they were so enthralled by you- I understand-!"

[F/N] yelped.

"No- No- NO-!" [F/N] yelled out, Unable to take it anymore. She cried out. Trying to yank her arm away from him to no avail. Lucifer only tightened his grip around her wrist. Painful, Almost bruising her skin.

"You..! You stay right there-!" Homare called out, A hiss in her voice as she quickly took charge and grasped onto [F/N]'s shoulder, Keeping her in place. [F/N] struggled, Trying her very best to get out of the woman's grasp but it was futile.

"L-Let go-!"

"Please.. Come closer." Lucifer almost begged, His voice quiet yet pleading as he relented the grasp he had on her to beckon her towards him.

Was the space between them too much? The two foot wide gap? [F/N] felt tears begin to prick in her eyes, Pure hatred running through her veins as Homare wrestled her up to her feet and began to shepherd her around the table.

She almost slipped on the polish of the wood, Trying to kick her way out of Homare's hold.

But it was useless.

[F/N] felt herself get pushed down onto the opposite couch, Her back hitting the cushions as a chill ran down her spine. Whenever this happened, Whenever another demon king got affected by her penchant she had always found a way out. To run or fight, She had always found a way out of here.

She always had. Always. Even now there was a way out, Wasn't there? There must be- Surely-

"There you are.. That is much better.." Lucifer spoke out, His voice returning to that gentle lilt though there was an undeniable warmth to it now. His eyes gleaming, Sitting there beside her, Facing her, His attention unwavering.

"Don't- Don't touch me-!" [F/N] cried out, Tears starting to trickle down her cheeks as Lucifer took them into his gloved palms. His touch was freezing, Even through the silky fabric.

It was enveloping too, His grasp a little too tight. How could she get out? How could she escape? His grasp make her skin feel dead and embalmed. The guards surrounded them, Homare especially keeping her eyes trained on [F/N] for any sudden movements.

Fuck. [F/N] trembled. There was no way she'd be able to get away, There was no chance. [F/N]'s reddening eyes were wide, Unable to remove them from Lucifer's. Tears falling down her face, Sizzling at her skin.

How could she get away? In the end she was still just a girl.

The same girl refused to follow her friend into the forest.

Oh, Who was [F/N] kidding?

She was still a kid.

A stupid, Scared, Sniffling little kid.

"No.. No. Why are you crying?" Lucifer asked quietly, Eyes narrowing. His thumb rubbing circles into the skin of her cheek. Wiping away the tears that erupted from her ducts. "It.. Does not feel good to see.. Tell me, What is it that you want? What will make you stop?"

[F/N] hiccupped.

"To go home-! Let me go home-!"

"-No. Anything but that." Lucifer answered quickly, His lips thinning. His hands holding her face growing tighter at her words. "I'll give you anything else.. You see, This vessel.. I have never been able to exist a moment in this world without pain.. An ache that never dissolved, Not until now.."

Lucifer's voice almost shook, The euphoria of normalcy was overwhelming, Overtaking. It was something he could feel in his very being. [F/N] hiccupped, Her throat aching.

Lucifer parted his eyes from hers for only a moment, Glancing up at his right-hand.

"Homare.. Please summon a cleaner to fix this mess as well as more tea." Lucifer ordered firmly, Still gripping [F/N]'s crying face in his hands as Homare saluted and bowed, Barking out a "Yes, Sir..!" before quickly making her way towards the rooms pair of doors.

It was only once they opened and shut did Lucifer return his gaze towards her. Such a sickening, Burning gaze.

It was calculating, Thinking, Asking himself what he was to do.

"Now.."

Tears continued to run down her face even when she was tugged closer. Gently, Yet firm as she felt his arms awkwardly rest around her in what could only be described as an android's attempt at a hug.

His movements were stiff, His limbs not use to the action he was doing. An arm around her back with another on the back of her head. He had leant down, Her head resting on his shoulder. It was if he was trying to mimic what others have done before, A fraudulent copy of what usually was such a genuine action.

[F/N] didn't even fight back, Not when she felt the stare of the entire guard on her back.

"..Does this make you feel better?" Lucifer asked after a moment, His head resting atop hers. [F/N] still shook in his grasp, His cold and mechanic grasp. Feeling his fingers weave themselves into her hair, Firmer than what she expected.

Awkward, But firm enough to ensure she would be unable to get out.

It didn't make her feel better, Not in the slightest. [F/N] tried her best to calm herself down, To think rationally. To imagine that she was hugging someone she actually loved, Like Lewin or Osceola or her friends from the cram school.

Friends, They really were her friends.

[F/N] sniffled, Trying to imagine she was with them and not Lucifer right now. Imagining the smell of ash in the classroom, The obnoxiously coloured halls, The echoing chatter that bounced around the room.

[F/N] missed them. Her friends. Her actual friends. She had companions for once in her life. She had a network, A system she could rely on when she fell, Knowing that they would help her get back up.

[F/N] hoped they were coming for her, To help her get out of here. Anywhere but here, Anywhere.

"Commander."

Homare had returned, Had it been that long? [F/N] saw her standing there through the blur of her tears, Arms positioned behind her back and her eyes a little bit wider than they were before.

There was no tray of tea in her hands like she was ordered to bring.

[F/N]'s eyes widened.

A sudden chill washing over her.

"Commander, I apologise for returning so quickly however I've just been informed that we have- Erm.. Guests." Homare coughed on the last part, Almost as if figuring out how to put it.

Readjusting her glasses she spoke once again.

"The other demon kings, They are here."

[F/N] felt her heart stop.

The demon kings.. They..

They were here?

Lucifer let go of [F/N] however reluctantly, Releasing her from his hold. He pushed himself up to his feet and readjusted his uniform, Settling the velvet of his cape back over his shoulders as he turned to face Homare.

"I had expected this much.. I can sense their presence already.." Lucifer spoke calmly as he dusted himself off. "Not just Astaroth, Iblis and Egyn.. I can sense that Beelzebub, Amaimon and Samael are here as well.."

"Yes, Commander. They are currently standing within the foyer as we speak, They are currently waiting for you."

"Is Samael willing to talk?"

"Yes, I believe he was the one that alerted Beelzebub and Amaimon here. He has not came with anyone from The Order."

"I see. Good."

[F/N] felt her heart near explode. The kings, Demons, The worst of them all.

They were here.

A cold sweat covered her skin worse than it had before, Tears and snot dribbling down her face even harder. All of them, The ones she had met over the years, They had never forgotten her and now they were here.

[F/N] couldn't fight, Couldn't scream, She couldn't run anymore like she had done so many times in the past.

This was it.

There was no escaping now.

"Prepare the master dining room for a feast, Summon the cooks to prepare food however last-minute. Whatever they deem is best."

"How many chairs, Commander?"

"Nine. I can sense Azazel has recently found himself a vessel, He should be arriving rather late but make room for him anyways."

Lucifer turned to her, The emerald in his eyes glinting as he looked down at her. That expression, The one of calm and collected demeanour holding something else now. Something much darker than his title suggested.

He turned to her, Examining her from head to toe.

"I suppose there would be no time to fix your appearance, Unfortunately. I don't believe that our siblings would stay patient much longer.." Lucifer remarked as he looked at her, Frozen there, Terrified out of her mind.

He turned to face her now, Homare already running off to complete her order. Lucifer looked at her from head to toe, At her expression of gritted teeth and sweat building on her brow.

Lucifer almost sighed.

"And I don't suppose you would come peacefully to the dining room either. You are still shaken from the unorthodox way I brought you here, Not to mention that I've heard you have a rather troublesome distaste for us demons." Lucifer almost lamented as he looked down at her.

He took a step forward, His hand raising in the air.

"Ah.. It's no matter. Today you have shown me how it feels to exist without pain, Without weakness." Lucifer spoke, Grateful, His words were dripping in it. "Even now I feel the beating of this vessel's heart, What a wonderous feeling. I understand what the rest of our siblings meant when they had told me.. And I thank you for that."

All of a sudden, He snapped his fingers.

[F/N] only heard the quick sounds of footsteps, Hundreds, Thousands. Echoing and ringing in her ears as she was hefted up to her feet. An arm under each of her pits, Carrying her, Holding her up with such daze in her expression.

Lucifer's gaze almost softened.

"This is familial love, Is it not? Even such a demon as I can be affected by it, By you." Lucifer spoke, So eerily, Dreamily. As the guards surrounding her began to take her away, Her mind in shambles with no more tears left to cry.

[F/N] felt her feet drag against the floor, Mind yelling at her- Screaming as she heard a door open.

Wishing this was all just a dream.

A ghost of a smile appeared across Lucifer's face, Only fitting on such a lifeless being.

"Don't try to fight or run, [F/N]. You may not favour demons, But as our newest sibling, You are sure to learn how to see things our way. However long it takes. Please, Try to behave yourself, Will you?"

The door slammed shut.

And suddenly, Everything turned black.

[roosterbruiser]

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄? — 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟒

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈-𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓) 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐁𝐔𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐖𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟖.𝟒𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄? 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟒

The tough leather football catapults off the laces of Jake’s right cleat and soars across the true-blue sky through the yellow guideposts staked at the opposing side’s endzone. It’s clean--doesn’t so much as skim the chipped paint before it bounces off the net gloriously.

Triple.  

And just like that, the game ends the way everyone already knew it would: with Jake Seresin’s jersey blown up on the jumbotron, with the home team’s score dwarfing the opposing team just barely, with the crowd roaring in abundant approval.

The loyal crowd packing the stadium, all dressed in a sea of morning yellow and teal, erupts like an undefeated crowd should. Everyone is on their feet, breaths no longer held and fingernails no longer bitten, with their hands in the crisp autumn air surrounding them. The bright stadium lights wash over the field--all the celebrating players, the exuberant turf, the moping opposing side glitter inside its glow and beneath the evening sky.

Thunderstruck by AC/DC is screaming through the speakers. At this point, you’re well-versed enough in your school’s football history to know that this song is synonymous with victory. It’s the only reason you put up with the trash.  

“Holy shit!” Bob calls out. He’s grinning, his lips a bit pink and wet and his eyes wide and watered with joy. “Bullseye, man! Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye!”

Bob rarely curses so liberally--you’ve noticed this over the past year between late night runs to the corner store and lazy afternoons in Jake and Brad’s dorm. He says things like good Lord and have mercy and now just hold on a darn second there. But during football games, his lips are looser and he isn’t as quick to flush. He can say shit and damn and sometimes fuck. It is partly because of the sticky, nippy atmosphere and partly because of the few cheap beers Javy always buys for him.

“I told you! I told you he never misses!” Javy returns excitedly. “Fuck outta here, ‘Bama!” 

Javy brings his pointer and his tongue to his mouth, glancing over at you to make sure you see--you do and you’re already covering your ears. He gives you a courteous warning before he whistles after he nearly made you jump out of your skin during kick-off a few weeks ago. 

He heard all about it from Jake when you let it slip casually in conversation. 

“You trying to maim her or something, you dick?” Jake had said with his brows furrowed, his cheeks still pink from running though the football game had ended hours ago. He took a long, languid drink from his water bottle and then drew it away and pointed at Javy with it. “How about some warning next time, big guy?”

“Let’s fucking go!” Javy calls out, his voice ragged from calling out referees and hollering Seresin and Bradshaw, the paint on his face crumbling as his mouth stretches into a grin. “Don’t Trip on your way out, bitches!”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side--he smells like face paint and sweat. Bob, all his excitement bubbling over, blows a yeasty breath out and wraps you up in his arms, too. Bob, somehow, always smells like he’s only just stepped out of the shower. 

Jake can hear everything from the field--everyone screaming, the noisemakers snapping, the hands clapping, the other players cajoling, Javy’s absurdly loud whistling--for only a moment. He only experiences the win for a few fleeting seconds, teammates punching his shoulder pads and slapping his ass through his tight game pants, until he turns his face to the bleachers.

It is easy for him to find you. Maybe if he told someone that, someone like Javy or Bradley or Bob, they would tell him that it’s because he’s the one who bought your tickets, picked your seats. That he simply memorized where you’re gonna sit, glances over during practice, always checks on you. 

But Jake knows better than that. 

He knows that it is so easy for him to find you because he looks for you in every room now--even if it’s the chem lab he knows you aren’t even enrolled in, even if it’s his family’s living room in Texas over the summer when you’re home in Virginia, even if it’s his dorm room at four in the morning and he’s just dropped you at your own hal, even if it’s the crowded dining hall he knows you wouldn’t ever step foot in on your own. 

He’s good at finding you--always has been. 

And now, a year to the day he first saw you at that shitty house party that only played a few good songs, he finds you wedged in between Bob and Javy. 

Jake’s chest is tight as he looks at you. You’re standing between two of his best friends, who have now become your friends, grinning like there is no other place in the world you would rather be than this close to the football field and drowning in beer breath. 

There you are, like you have been since November of last year, standing in the first row of bleachers. You’re clapping and laughing as Javy and Bob hold you and undoubtedly insult the opposing team. You’re wearing the sweatshirt Jake gave you, that soft yellow thing that’s been faded with time since it was first worn by Jake’s father all those years ago, and there are little butterfly clips in your hair--team colors, of course. 

It’s funny, Jake thinks. A year ago you didn’t own even one school team shirt. Not a hat, a keychain, a hand-me-down, not even one of those rubber bracelets you can get for free literally anywhere on campus.

“Didn’t have a reason to have school pride before. You know--before you. But doesn’t everyone have school pride now that we’re undefeated? I bet you’re the reason a lot of people buy sweatshirts, Trip,” you told him when he asked about it. It was December of last year and he was reclined on your bed, watching you brush your hair as you slipped into his father’s sweatshirt. “This is really nice, you know. Vintage.” 

“It was my dad’s,” Jake told you softly, trying to be sly about his lingering gaze. 

But still, you saw him when you turned suddenly to look at him with furrowed brows. The two of you had only known each other for a month and some change and already he deemed you important enough to will down his father’s sweatshirt. 

“Shouldn’t you be saving this for some gorgeous girlfriend in a little tank-top?” You asked, only half-joking. 

He caught your gaze in the mirror and shook his head. 

“Nah,” he answered. “It looks good on you.” 

But now, here you are, all these months later. In the same sweatshirt, the one you keep in pristine condition and wear almost every gameday. And now you have matching hair clips. 

Almost instantaneously, you know he’s looking at you. Even when he’s across an entire football field, even when he’s being crowded by the rest of the football team and the coaches, even when his eyes are nearly hidden behind his helmet--you know. It’s a feeling that you get, one that is almost indiscernible from other big feelings like exhilaration or delirium. 

And because you know he’s looking at you, you know that when he jams his finger in the sky and angles it--he’s pointing at you. You. That’s who the win was for. You. It’s always you. If someone were to be writing it down, they would know that every single win this season--and every single one during the latter half of last season--is dedicated to you. You own them, really. Technically. They’re gifted to you, thrusted into your lap, by Jake. 

Just like you do each time he points to you after a win, you hold your hands in a heart--a juvenile and crooked thing. But you hold it high and proud in the sky as confetti reigns down from the bleachers above. 

Jake’s beaming underneath his face mask, filled to the brim with unadulterated joy as you hold your hands up in a heart. It’s for him--it always is. 

He can’t remember when this all started--the hearts, at least. He thinks they must’ve started the way nicknames do; on a whim, randomly, fleetingly. It’s that sweet thing where you don’t know where something begins or how it will end, but you know everything in-between because it just is.  

But he does remember the first time you came to a game after you met. It was the next game, the one he promised he’d get you tickets to, and you sat in the front row like you said you would despite him offering to nab you some nosebleeders. 

His fingertips tingled with adrenaline the entirety of the game, only gaining more momentum the closer the team got to a fourth-quarter victory. Everyone could tell that Jake was on his A-game, which meant that he was unstoppable. 

He was the one who kicked the field goal that won the game--and with only ten seconds left on the clock. He remembers vividly the way the crowd went animalistic, the way everyone erupted in howls and cries and hollering. 

Before the game, he memorized the exact seat you were going to sit in. During practice, he watched it--imagined you there. Your exuberant smile, your unrelenting good mood, which he partly attributed to the company of yours truly and partly attributed to you losing the dead weight of Spit Sabler. 

And when he kicked the field goal, when he heard the crowd go wild, he turned towards where he knew you were sitting. It wasn’t even on purpose--it was just like a natural reaction. There you were, just like you said you would be. Grinning. Clapping. Laughing. 

He was so overwhelmed with joy, so overwhelmed with having met you and immediately adored you, that he pointed to you. 

You. 

His girl. 

He doesn’t remember what he was doing after wins before this--before he started looking for you. Maybe he was indulging in the celebration. Maybe he was letting Bradshaw tackle him to the turf. Maybe he was running to the sidelines. He can’t remember. He experiences this a lot when he thinks of life before you--it’s all blurry. Unimportant. 

“You fucker! You dumb fucker!” Bradley laughs in his ear as he jumps into Jake’s arms, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and knocking Jake’s helmet with his own. “Just take me already!” 

“You fucking goon, get off me!” Jake howls, stumbling backwards with Bradley’s entire weight on his torso. But he’s still grinning. “You’re giving the other team way too much ammunition right now!” 

“Ammunition-shammunition!” Bradley says gleefully, panting and laughing as he hugs Jake close to him. They both stink--almost indistinguishable from each other. “We won! We fucking won! Let ‘em talk!” 

“We always do,” Jake says, planting Bradley’s cleats back on the turf. “We’re literally 10-0!” 

Bradley slaps his hands on the sides of Jake’s helmet and pulls him close so that the hard plastic clashes roughly. Jake starts to whine, but Bradley is too amped to notice or mind. 

“I love you, man! I love you!” 

“Stop!” Jake insists. The grin is devouring his face. “Be normal!” 

“I can’t! Something’s happening to me! Something big and-and--!” Bradley’s already starting to gyrate, spreading his arms out and running in place on the tips of his toes. “Oh, God--it’s happening!”  

“Don’t!” Jake warns, shaking his head seriously. “Please--just this once, don’t do it--!” 

The team is already watching the two of them, amused. They know what’s coming. It’s the same thing at the end of every game that Jake wins for the team--which is almost every single one at this point. 

Bradshaw is notoriously an idiot--bonafide. But he might be the most beloved member of the team; he has an irresistible goofy charm about him that even the quarterback is susceptible to. That’s pretty much what happened with you, too. You fell in love with his big, cow-like eyes and unrelenting unwillingness to be embarrassed. 

“It’s taking me! Oh, Lord! It’s taking me!” Bradley cries. He’s really getting into it now, clutching his chest and marching in place on beat. “Help me, Jake! Help me!”

“Uh-oh,” Bob says with a fond smile tugging on his lips. He squeezes you and Javy. “Trouble! One o’clock!” 

You and Javy grin at the scene on the field. The other team dejectedly fielding sneers and boo’s as they sulk off the field as AC/DC shakes the ground beneath their cleats. Your football team watches on in amusement as Bradley howls and breaks out in dance while Jake desperately tries to get away. 

“The Bradshaw Boogie,” you sigh, beaming. “Who could've guessed?” 

“Me, you, Bob, that guy over there, that guy over here, even the lady down there,” Javy lists, shaking his head. “What an idiot.” 

“But he’s ours,” you sigh lovingly, leaning your head against Bob’s. Bradley tackles Jake to the ground and your chest grows warm, pulses with love. “Both of them.”

𖥔

“Doesn’t this all feel so…American?” Bob asks. He’s pushing the cart, squinting beneath the harsh fluorescents flickering above the lot of you. He’s in his costume already--a freakishly accurate Indiana Jones costume that has gotten more than a handful of compliments since arriving at the grocery store. “Going to a football game and then buying pumpkins at the local twenty-four hour superstore?” 

“Winning a football game,” Bradley corrects from his spot inside the cart, knees against his chest as he cradles a few bottles of the cheapest vodka in stock. His face is partially painted--which means he just looks partially rabid. He scratches the real dog collar around his throat and the metal name tag that he sharpied the Hell hound’s name on jangles melodically. “And we’re not just buying pumpkins.” 

“Yeah,” Javy echoes from ahead of everyone, skimming the aisles absently as he reads all the price tags. He’s the certified sales finder, which is always why he walks ahead of everyone. The bright read-and-white sweater of his Waldo costume, ironically, sticks out like a sore thumb in the dull, white-washed aisles. “We’re buying Bradshaw a leash, too. Finally.” 

“Ha-ha,” Bob says. “Funny. But I don’t think Cujo had a leash.” 

Javy pauses and glances over his shoulder at Bob and Bradley. Bob’s watching him, brows knit and lips quirked. Bradley hasn’t even noticed that the cart’s halted--he’s too busy chewing his fingernail. 

“No. We were supposed to get around to it last week,” Javy says. “He keeps wandering.”

Now Bradley looks up--suddenly realizing that Bob and Javy are looking at him.

“Oh. Kinky,” Bradley grins, waggling his brows. He adjusts himself in the cart, uncomfortably packed against the metal grates between bags of Doritos and robust pumpkins, but unwilling to get out. “I like it. Wanna take me for a walk, Goldie?” 

Bradley leans out of the cart to grin at Jake, like he always does when he puts the faux moves on you, but all he sees is an empty aisle. He was totally expecting a firm smack on the back of the head from Jake and a sweet laugh from you. Nothing but cereal boxes, though.

“Hey. Where’d they go?” Bradley asks, pouting. “I totally just said that for loverboy.” 

“Who?” Javy returns, starting down the aisle again as he straightens his crooked glasses. “Sonny and Cher?”  

“They’re Daphne and Fred,” Bob says, shaking his head. 

“More like Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumbass,” Bradley says good-naturedly. He releases his fingernail from the wrath of his teeth and then sighs dejectedly. “Anyone got any clippers on ‘em? I have a hangnail.”

Two aisles over, you’re sorting through the various bags of candy sitting on the beige shelves. Nothing is striking your precise fancy and Jake can tell from the careful way he’s watching your brows crinkle. You take your Halloween candy seriously--really, you take everything about Halloween seriously--and he knows he’s already on thin ice taking you to a superstore to get pumpkins instead of a patch. 

“Who the fuck likes Dots?” You whisper to him, shaking your head disapprovingly. “Do you know someone who likes Dots? I don’t. I never have.” 

Jake shakes his head fondly. 

“Yeah, I do,” Jake says. 

“Nuh-uh,” you say dismissively, brows loosely knit.  

“I’ll give you one guess,” Jake says, tightening the orange ascot around his throat. 

Glancing at him through your lashes, your belly already in a puddle at your platform heels right beside your heart, you meet his gaze. He’s always already looking at you--just like he always is. It’s one of the first things you noticed about him after you two met for coffee on November 1st of last year, a mere twelve hours since you broke things off with Spit Sabler. Jake was the one who stood from the table he snagged for both of you, the one who was watching the door for thirty minutes before you arrived, the one who called your name across the cafe and waved you over.

“Hey,” he’d said when you crossed the cafe shyly and ended up at his feet. “You look great out of costume, too! I think you could still pass for a doctor.” 

“Jokes on you,” you’d told him, eyeing the ridiculously good-looking denim jacket he had shrugged over his The Innocence Mission t-shirt. “You don’t.” 

You cheek your grin and whip a bit of your stringy red wig over your shoulder. When he sees you struggling, two little strands of artificial hair stuck in your lipgloss, he reaches up and carefully peels them away from your lips. His fingers graze your cheek as he retracts--a ghost of a touch, the hint of a touch, the hint of a ghost of a touch. Enough for both of you to curl your toes identically in the safety and privacy of your own socks. 

Both of you pretend not to be warm from the interaction. 

You clear your throat.  

“Nobody likes Dots,” you insist. 

Jake shakes his head smugly. 

“Somebody you know and love likes Dots,” Jake insists. 

He doesn’t bother checking his grin--he can hardly muster when you’re looking up at him so prettily. Fuschia eyelids and candy-apple lips, all that sweet softness and playfulness sitting in the fat of your cheeks as you try not to smile.  

“You lie like a rug,” you challenge, crossing your arms indignantly. “I’m calling your bullshit.” 

“Error 404. Bullshit not found,” Jake says, holding his palms up in defense. “C’mon. One guess. You’ve got it.”

“You,” you say with a devious smile. 

He holds his chest in mock insult and you beam at him. 

“Ouch,” he says. “No. I underestimated your ability to be wack as Hell.”  

“Okay, Fresh Prince,” you bite back, open-mouth laughing now. “Then who is it? Hm? Who do I know and love that likes Dots?” 

“Scrappy Doo,” he says confidently. 

He watches your face contort--first confusion and then realization. 

“Bradshaw really does make it hard for himself, doesn’t he?” You say quietly. “But, like--now that you say that? I can see it. Unfortunately. I can see it.” 

“He went to the movie theater one time to--like, literally just to buy Dots. Brought, like, five boxes back to the dorm and ate them overnight.”

“Ew,” you say, nose wrinkled. “Did he get sick?” 

“No,” Jake says, rolling his eyes. “He has an industrial stomach.” 

“Shit,” you say, laughing. “Go figure.” 

“Unlike someone here, he’s also not picky,” Jake says, widening his eyes and nodding towards you. 

Sticking your tongue out at him, you roll your eyes. 

“It’s not so easy!” 

Jake glances down at the mounds of candy before you, scouring for a bag you would actually enjoy. He’s learned a lot about you--he feels like he’s learned everything about you--in the past year, so he knows how tricky this is going to be. You won’t eat coconut or dark chocolate--nor do you like non-sour gummies. You only tolerate Smarties and you can’t stomach M&M’s after last year’s milkshake incident. 

“Here,” Jake says, tugging a variety bag out from the bottom of the pile. He hands it to you and nods for you to follow him as he starts down the aisle again. “That one.”

“That’s ballsy,” you say to him, not moving from your spot. You squint as you read the labels of the candy in the variety pack. “You know this is a most sacred process for me.” 

He turns, now in the middle of the aisle, and watches you read it silently. He already knows--before you even do--that this is the one you’re going to choose. He knows little things about you like this--like your In-N-Out order, your favorite kind of pen to write with, your dislike of baseball caps. But he knows big things about you, too--like how old you were when your parents divorced, what your favorite color was in the second grade, who you consider to be your personal hero and why it’s Dolly Parton.

“You underestimate my fondness for you,” Jake says. Heat blooms all cross his chest and his ascot suddenly feels tight when you glance back at him in amusement. He laughs dryly. “Idiot.” 

“I stand corrected,” you tell him with a shrug and sigh, slinging the candy over your arm. “And you know how much I hate standing.” 

“Who hates standing?” Jake grins, shaking his head. You are slowly making your way over to him in that strangely authentic Daphne costume, the one you put together over the course of three months with him in tow. “Nobody hates standing.” 

When you come close to him, you can smell the aftershave on his face, the sandalwood on his pulse points. He grins down at you, unrealistically handsome even in this truly awful Fred wig--truly, it’s less Fred and more of a tow-headed Sonny Bono.

“Someone you know and love hates it,” you tease, pressing the bag of candy in his awaiting arms. “Right?” 

He looks down at you in between taking measured, deep breaths. He can’t believe how much he adores you. Well, he can because he does and he has been since the moment he first saw you. He felt like he already loved you when he saw you in the cafe the day after Halloween, when you walked across the checkered tiles with your glasses on and your backpack slung over one shoulder. 

“What--you didn’t bring your backpack? Do you not care about passing midterms?” You’d asked him seriously. But you were smiling softly as your lashes kissed the tops of your cheeks. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of doctor?” 

Sometimes he wonders when it happened--when something happened between the two of you that halted both of you in your tracks, something that stalled anything real and romantic happening at the party or the dorm room. He thinks about it when he zones out in class, when he’s trying not to fall asleep during film in the locker rooms. 

Maybe it was when some John puked all over your legs. When he told you to look up at the night sky while he wiped your legs down and free from marigold flowers and puke. 

Maybe it was when he didn’t walk you to the door of your dormitory. When he stayed in his truck and waited until you got into the building before he drove away. Maybe he should’ve stuck his hands in his pockets and walked all the way up to your room, should’ve met your roommate and seen what pictures you hung on the walls.

Maybe it was when he didn’t bring his backpack for coffee. When he had to sit on the same side of the little bistro table as you and read over your shoulder, when he had to borrow one of your pens to take notes on scrap paper you happened to have.

Maybe it was when you were the one to ask for his number first, scribbling it on the corner of your notebook with a smiley face. Smiley face. Not a heart.

Maybe it was on a Tuesday in April or maybe a Friday in September. Maybe it happened while the two of you were watching Apocalypse Now or Dazed and Confused. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever know--doesn’t even know if he wants to know. 

But Jake isn’t one to complain, though. 

Maybe you’re not what he wants you to be--his girlfriend, even though that feels too juvenile a word for what he really wants you to be--but you’re still the best person he knows. And, in a lot of ways, he considers himself very lucky to have landed you at all. Even as a friend. 

You have quickly--effortlessly--become one of Jake’s favorite people on God’s green earth. He thinks about you each morning when the sun touches his face for the first time, thinks about how warm your hands always are when you pinch his cheeks. He thinks about you each night as he flicks off his lamp, glancing at the framed photograph he has of you on his bedside table--one Javy took of you on a disposable camera, one where you’re decked out in team colors and holding a foam finger with Jake’s number on it.

Sometimes, though--like right now--he gets overwhelmed with everything. It’s like there’s a ball of light in his chest that’s starting to puncture his skin. Like there’s something bright and hot and big that wants out and wants out now. 

“Right,” Jake whispers now, pretending like he’s not choked up. He grips the plastic bag in his arms to keep himself from holding your cheeks. He’s watching your lips. “You are someone I know and love.” 

There is a hotness radiating from Jake, but you hardly notice. If you did, you’d be fanning yourself and un-pinning your wig. But your gaze is unwavering, even if you feel like Jake isn’t quite meeting your eyes right now. Either way, you still feel seen by him. Always.

“Prove it,” you whisper to him. 

It sounds like an invitation--maybe it is. 

Yes, it lingers there in the air between you, the one that smells like dead leaves and artificial apple and gardenia perfume from the lady a few aisles over. You and him both see it, clear as day, as if it’s some sort of bright red mist surrounding you. 

You have a supremely good eye for detail. You notice eyelashes on sidewalks and memorize license plates on speeding cars and have never once missed foreshadowing. That’s why Bradley has you proofread all his essays, why Javy has you watch football games with him, why Bob studies with you, why Jake loves to watch movies with you. 

So, you notice it whenever Jake’s eyebrows pinch. Whenever he looks confused, like he’s just about to sputter out a what? and step away from you. That’s when you realize, flushed as ever before, that your faces are a mere inch apart. 

“Buy my candy,” you say, straightening out and moving your face away from his. 

Jake’s heart is hammering in his chest.

Fuck.

He was going to do it. He was going to ask if he could kiss you--Hell, he was just going to hold the stupid wig in place and press his lips to yours before he lost the nerve. 

But it’s too late. You’re already smiling at him, expression unreadable to him even though he’s well-versed in you, nodding towards the register. 

“Goldie--!” 

“Hey!” Javy says when he sees the two of you. “Simon! Garfunkel! Let’s get a move on, huh? We’ve gotta get our drink on!” 

Both you and Jake turn to find your three friends standing at the end of the aisle. Javy with his hands on his hips and his lips pursed, Bob smiling almost apologetically like he knows he interrupted something, and Bradley struggling to his knees in the very-full cart to get your attention. 

“Hey, Goldie! I made a really good joke earlier and you weren’t there,” Bradley starts, grinning as he gestures wildly. “Okay, so Javy said--!”

“Down boy,” Bob says, nudging Bradley. 

You and Jake trudge towards the three of them, a strange aura of embarrassment and disappointment permeating the air around the two of you. It’s strange because the two of you, as close as you are, never seem very embarrassed about being so obliviously in love as you both are. 

“What?” Bradley asks, genuinely oblivious. He’s gesturing to you as you sheepishly make your way over to the cart. “She missed it! She’s my audience!” 

“Audience of one?” Javy asks, brow raised. “Lame.”

“Boo me all you want, but I’m loyal. A one-woman kinda guy,” Bradley defends. You’re smiling at him, rolling your eyes, when he pats his thighs while waggling his eyebrows. “Hey, pretty lady. Wanna take a seat?” 

Jake thumps the back of his head hard, even if he knows that Bradley’s adoration for you is purely platonic and flirtation if in complete jest. And Bradley keens at Jake, strangely accomplished.

“Nah,” you say softly. You hold your own hands and try not to breathe in too much of Jake’s cologne. “I’ll stand.”

𖥔

Technically it’s still Halloween when you and Jake stumble into his dorm room. The two of you have been in Bob’s dorm room for the better half of the evening, drinking away a couple bottles of vodka between the four of you while having a horror movie marathon. 

Things feel alright now--better than they did at the beginning of the night, in the direct aftermath of whatever the fuck happened at the store. With every drink the two of you had, you moved closer to the middle of the room from the prospective sides you’d initially settled in. By the time Jaws II was being discussed, you were laying your head in Jake’s lap and letting him stroke your wig. 

“Jinkies, I gotta get you back,” Jake had sighed, glancing at the clock and then you. He dropped his eye in a heavy wink, one that was not as sly as usual, and nodded towards the door. “Gotta celebrate our anniversary.” 

“Oh, right,” Bradley had interjected, leaning over the two of you with a pink-tinted grin. “What’s the first anniversary? Silver?” 

“Paper,” Bob corrected, slightly inebriated. 

“Do candy wrappers count?” Jake had whispered, thumb pressed against your cheek. 

“Yeah,” you yawned. “So does cash.”

Time is ticking by quickly and so are you as Jake shuts the door behind the both of you, a broken laugh falling from his vodka-flavored lips at something you said on the elevator. Something he can’t even remember now. 

“Jesus, it’s dark,” you say as you pull your lop-sided wig off your head and let it slink to the wooden floor. It will, undoubtedly, live there for the next couple weeks. You can already imagine Bradley eating shit after slipping on it. “You live like this?” 

The room is dark and empty besides the two of you, completely quiet besides the usual clanging and hollering outside his window from the drunk boys in the courtyard. And, of course, the laughter still dying on Jake’s tongue and the thumps of your heels. 

You have been in this room more times than you can count--so much so that several of the floors RA’s have approached you about blowing off floor meetings. So, despite being a bit drunk and despite being in the dark, you’re able to find the radio sitting on Jake’s dresser. It’s where it always is beside a pack of gum and his favorite bottle of cologne. 

“Like a hermit,” Jake says. “A Norman Bates type.”

“Spooky,” you whisper to him. “Really getting me in the mood over here.” 

“Yeah? Sitting in Bob’s room and watching creature features didn’t do that for you already?” 

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head despite the fact that he cannot see you. “You know I like more high brow stuff.” 

“Right,” Jake says distantly as he reaches blindly for the switch to the lava lamp. “Slashers.” 

“Uh huh,” you mutter. Then you clear your throat and drunkenly giggle as you sing. “Gimme, gimme, gimme some gore after midnight.” 

“You know how I can tell when you’re trashed, Goldie-girl?” Jake grins, still fumbling for the switch. “You start singing ABBA parodies.” 

“You like my parodies,” you whisper back. 

“Love ‘em,” he says and he really does mean it. 

The lamp suddenly illuminates the room. The both of you squint in tandem, on opposite sides of the small dorm room, stumbling in your steps in surprise. 

“Hi,” you whisper to him. 

Your makeup is smeared--bleary. His wig is gone and his ascot is untied. 

“Hey,” he returns. “What are you in the mood for? Pick your poison.” 

He nods to the CD’s you’re sorting through. 

“Julee Cruise,” you whisper back. “She’s been stuck in my head all day.”

“On the left,” he tells you. “Towards the bottom.” 

Nodding, you dig it out. Jake rubs his eyes, trying to sober up. It isn’t that he wants to even be sober--he feels good right now. But after what happened at the store, the way you have been inside of a hard shell all night between Jaws and The Blob, he wants to have a clear head. 

Fumbling only slightly, you manage to start the CD. And without looking back at Jake, you wander over to his twin bed and flop down on the brown plaid bedding, sighing in relief. 

“I’ve been awake for too long,” you whisper to him, blinking up at the ceiling. 

He’s still standing beside the lamp, watching every one of your moves with his heart in his throat. 

“How long?” He asks. 

You turn to him, biting a smile and blinking your bleary eyes. 

“My whole life,” you return. 

Now he’s biting a grin. 

“Wow,” he whispers. “You must be exhausted.”

“Yup,” you confirm. You point to your platform heels and crooked stockings. “Too exhausted to take my costume off.” 

A bubble pops inside of Jake, inside of you, in tandem. You blink at him. He blinks at you. There are only a few feet separating you and him, only a few paces across a shitty rug and old hardwood floors. 

He swallows hard. You notice it when his Adam’s apple bob. 

He considers what could happen next. He could press forward, tell you that he can help with that. And then maybe you would sit up and draw your knees to your chest and tell him he’s just like every other guy you’ve ever been friends with. Or he could stand right where he is now and just nod like he didn’t quite hear you, then sit on Bradley’s bed while you huddle up by yourself in his. Neither of which sound palatable to Jake right now--or ever. 

Your heart is racing as you watch him. Fuck. You keep word vomiting, keep accidentally inviting him, keep telling the truth too voraciously. 

When he moves, he doesn’t say anything. That’s what he’s decided on--he won’t say a word. He’ll just…walk towards you. And you watch him as he crosses the floor, his footing suddenly a bit more sober than it was when the two of you left Bob’s dorm after Bradley insisted on a second screening of Critters. 

Then he’s standing before you--you’re laying below him. Both of you watch each other, drink in every movement--there hardly are any. His palms are damp and your throat is dry. 

His movements are slow, but calculated. His fingers wrap around your right ankle and your leg feels weightless as he lifts it and places the bottom of your shoe on his pristine Fred Jones sweater. The color of your shoe, that sweet purple-pink, is a stark contrast from the muddy print the sole of your shoe will leave. 

Jake doesn't look away from your face as he reaches for the buckle. 

It’s a tiny thing, flimsy and delicate. But he’s dextrous. 

“Thanks,” you whisper preemptively--just to say something. 

Falling by Julee Cruise is playing. You can only hear the blood rushing through your ears--you’re sure Jake hears it, too.  

“Jesus,” Jake says and he’s still looking you right in the eyes. Your heart rate spikes--your back almost leaves the bed in a sudden arch at just the sound of it falling from his lips. All rasp, all football player, all Jake. “How’d you get these things on?” 

“With a little help from my friends,” you say back pathetically. You shift slightly and he re-secures his grip on your ankle like you are trying to climb away from him. “You know. Fingernails.” 

You hold your hands up to him weakly and he nods, still not smiling as he fingers the buckle. 

“Right,” he says. “Something I don’t have.” 

“Right,” you say. 

“But anything you can do, I can do better,” he says. 

His heart is hammering. 

But you smile--smile despite the apple vodka staining the back of your throat and the heat pooling in your belly and the thoughts of him muddling your ever-present attention. 

“Tell it to the heels, baby,” you whisper to him. 

And, like you’ve said a magic word, he gets the first heel unbuckled. 

With a raise of his eyebrows, as if to say ha!, he delicately removes the heel from your foot and sets it on the floor. He’s still holding your ankle, softly stroking the light pink nylon tights. Wishing it was your skin. Burning all the same. 

There’s a muddy shoe print on his chest now. He sees it--so do you. But neither of you say anything about it. You’re too nervous to accidentally invite him to something he doesn’t want to come to--he’s too nervous to say the wrong thing and make you retreat. 

Your socked foot rests against his chest even after he releases you, which is what he wants. Any part of you against any part of him. 

He makes quick work of the other buckle and you watch, sobering quickly beneath the warmth of his touch and the velvety music flooding the radio. 

“You’re a pro,” you whisper. Your voice is somewhere between a whisper and a jive. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Here you are, below him in his bed. Here you are, your legs open and your ankles in the stronghold of his hands. Here you are, a year to the day since he first saw you. Here you are, listening to his dream pop in his dorm after hanging out with your friends that used to be his friends that you now share. 

Here you are. It astounds him, really. 

How lucky he is that you’re here. Now. 

Right now. 

There is an intensity to his gaze, one you see fleetingly, rarely in certain instances. If you were someone else and so was he, you would call those instances stolen glances or maybe pensive longing. 

But you’re you. 

He’s him. 

So you don’t know what to call it.  

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“No,” he answers. 

He clears his throats, ignores the ringing in his ears. 

Fuck. He didn’t mean to answer like that. 

You’re already scrambling to sit up, to probably interrogate him and press your knuckles to his forehead and check for a fever, but then he’s pressing his flat palm to your belly and pushing you back against the bed. 

It is not a hard touch--nor is it a violent one. It is a guidance, a suggestion. One that takes your breath from your lungs and smacks his face with it. One that renders you almost voiceless. 

“What’s wrong?” You whisper. 

“No, nothing, I--it’s nothing,” Jake tries, knowing how much of a liar he sounds like right now. 

“But you just said--!” 

“--Forget what I just said,” Jake tells you. He means it. He pushes down and feels all the skin of your belly, all the warmth and blood and flesh. You’re thrumming with life. “Really. I’m fine. It’s fine. I just…” 

He stops talking--knows he’s digging himself in a deeper hole. 

Swallowing hard, you think about the grocery store. Your quiet, accidental invitation. If it was really accidental at all. You still aren’t sure. You can't be sure right now when he’s looking down at you the way he is.

You have to ask. It’s overwhelming you--the thought that you did something wrong. 

“Did I…do something?” 

His response is immediate. Instantaneous like he’s rehearsed this before.

“What could you have done that would ever make me not okay?” He asks, a strangely kind bite to his tone. As if he were saying Don’t you know that I love you, you idiot? “I mean, really. You’re kinda the best.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper. Words are tugging on your lips. “Buy you a Red Hot Chili Peppers CD?” 

A dry laugh falls from his parted lips, but he doesn’t smile. He can’t. Not when his throat is so dry, not when you two are so close. So, so close. Close enough to smell that warm amber in your hair and against your throat. 

“Get serious,” Jake insists after a moment. 

Shifting beneath his palm, you stare up at him. 

“I am,” you try. 

“No, you’re not,” Jake says back, brows furrowed. 

You glance down at your costume. 

“I can’t be serious in pink tights.”

Jake doesn't have time to think--doesn’t have time to stop himself. He’s reaching up, up and under your dress, hooking his fingers in the band of your pink tights and tugging on them. They come loose much easier than the buckles, practically purr at Jake’s touch as he draws them down your legs, leaving a trail of gooseflesh on your skin. 

You’re gasping, nearly moaning before you choke on it, as he swiftly removes your tights. And then your legs are bare before him and your legs are still open and he’s standing and you’re sitting and your pink tights are in his fist. They’re still warm from your skin--still smell like you. 

Jake drops them on the floor, not peeling his gaze from yours. They’ll live on the floor for a few weeks, too. He knows it. So do you. 

Now you’re speechless, which doesn’t happen often. 

Jake’s heart is battering inside his ribcage like a bird attempting to flee. 

“What happened at the grocery store?” He asks. 

He has to ask. He needs to know.

“What?” You sputter out. Your heart races. Fuck. You were hoping to just forget it all. “What are you--what do you--?” 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Jake says. He flushes when he realizes that your legs are still open, when he realizes that you couldn’t close them if you wanted to since he’s standing so close to you. “C’mon. Don’t bullshit me.” 

“You tell me,” you demand. “I thought you were gonna…I don’t know…” 

You’re too flustered to continue, throwing your arm over your face under the guise of shielding your eyes from the light. Your face, your arm, your skin, your breath--it’s all so hot. You want to melt into the plaid bedding and become one with the dust bunnies. 

“Marigold,” Jake says and it sounds like he’s begging. “Don’t hide from me. C’mon. C’mon, we’re friends!” 

Friends. There’s that word. 

You want to roll over on your side, want to just apologize and go to your dorm and pine privately for him, but you can’t. You can’t because he’s leaning forward and tugging your arms away from your eyes. 

He’s suddenly infinitely closer to you. So close that you feel tipsy just breathing in his breath, all the alcoholic apples that have died there. 

The two of you stare at another. You’re searching his eyes, his nose, his lips, trying to get a read on him and what he’s thinking and what he’s doing. He’s leaning over you, slotted between your legs, his hips only a breath away from your core. He feels it when you squirm--he isn’t sure if you’re trying to get closer or farther, so he shifts backwards a few centimeters. 

“Did you want me to do something?” Jake asks. It’s a quiet demand. A plea. 

“What do you mean?” You ask even though you know. You’re stalling. “Where? At Bob’s?” 

“Don’t be a chickenshit,” Jake says, shaking his head. “Back there. At the store.”

You swallow, don’t know what to say. The light is suddenly too bright and the music is suddenly too loud. Your breaths are paralyzed in your lungs. 

“Did you want me to want you to do something back there? At the store?” 

He scoffs--it’s a mean, but soft sound. He needs to hear you say it. Yes, you wanted it. He didn’t overstep. He missed the chance, but he knows now. He won’t miss the chance again. If you just say it. Say you wanted it--wanted him. 

“You’re impossible,” he whispers.  

“I’m trying not to be,” you say back. “Sorry.” 

“We almost kissed,” he says and his lips are quivering. “Right? That’s what that was, right? You wanted me to kiss you.” 

When the words fall on your ears, in your already heightened state, you feel like they’re accusatory. You wanted him to kiss you. And it made him knit his brows and falter, stumble. 

You’re fucking everything up. 

You can’t afford to fuck everything up with the best friend you’ve ever had.

“No, I didn’t,” you whisper. Your voice is hoarse, thin.

“Yes, you did,” he whispers. His brows are totally furrowed. “You’re a bad lair.” 

He almost says that he couldn’t look away from your lips all night. He almost says that he wished you were closer to him. He almost says that he wants you to kiss him, too. He almost says that he’s wanted to kiss you for a year--an aching, throbbing year. 

But he doesn’t.

“Stop it,” you tell him quietly. Tears are welling in your eyes. You blink rapidly, try to ease yourself from the absolute comfort of his heat. “Why would I want that?” 

Now he says nothing. There it is--that crippling fear he always has, the one where he fucks it, the one where he’s rejected, the one where he fumbles the ball, the one where he misses the goal. Except it feels realized suddenly. Suddenly as you’re looking up at him in artificially warm light, your tights tugged off your naked legs by him, you look hurt. Your eyes are watery and your lips are twisted and you’re not drunk anymore. 

And he’s the one caging you in. Holding you against the bed. 

At once, he lays on his back. He’s no longer between your legs, no longer hovering you and looking into your eyes. He’s laying beside you. 

The both of you lay there, side-by-side, blinking up at the ceiling. You’re desperately blinking, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. And you’re curling your knees to your chest, holding yourself together with flimsy tape.

His chest is heaving. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He doesn’t know what to do. 

But he doesn’t have to because as he’s running his hands over his face, shaking his head and opening his trembling lips, your hand is on his forearm. 

You’ve never been one to hold a grudge. You even wave at Spit Sabler when you see him around campus. But even if you were someone who held a grudge--you know it would be fruitless when it comes to Jake. You’ve never been able to feel anything but love towards him. Pulsing, jovial love. Red-hot and American. 

“Hey,” you whisper. You’re watching him, lying on your side now, trying not to sound as desperate to keep him as you feel right now. “Jake. Look at me.” 

He does at once. 

Plaid bedding separates your mouth from his and your eyes aren't as watery anymore. It’s good. That’s good. Jake still can’t muster a word. He can’t believe what he just did. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“We’re just drunk,” you say dismissively. And even you sound like you don’t believe that bullshit. “Saying dumb shit when you’re drunk is, like, a rite of passage. Right?” 

He nods meekly after a long, sober pause. 

“I’m…” he starts. His cheeks flood bright red. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey, don’t be,” you tell him. “Like--it’s…don’t worry about it. We can talk about it when we’re sober.” 

He nods. Grateful, kind of, for your grace. But also angry that he couldn’t make it work--angry that things didn’t end up the way he needs them to. 

He glances at the clock just as it strokes midnight. 

No longer Halloween. Time to take the costume off.

 Absently, carefully, you reach forward and press the pads of your fingers against the muddy heel print on his chest. He won’t be able to wear this sweater again, but you feel like this isn’t going to be something that he throws away. And if he did--you would climb into any dumpster on campus to retrieve it. Just to hold it. Just to keep it. 

“Wanna get coffee tomorrow?” You whisper. 

The hint of a smile tugs on his lips. He finally tears his eyes away from the clock and looks at you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I think I know a place.” 

Your lungs deflate slightly--with relief, with grief. It all feels the same. 

“Don’t forget your backpack.”

Another laugh--a sad and pitiful thing. One he might regret later on. But it’s enough that his hot blood is beginning to cool, even this close to you, even with this much of your naked legs on display on his bed in his empty dorm. 

“Hey, Goldie?” Jake whispers. 

You worm your way closer to him, like you always do. And, like always, his arms are already open to receive you when you press yourself against his chest and inhale the mud and cologne there. 

“Yeah?” You whisper. 

“You’re my best friend,” he tells you suddenly and it’s true. “Like, you’re my favorite person. Forget Bradshaw.”

Tears well in your eyes again--watery and fat. And you laugh softly, knowing you’ll regret it later. It punctuates this conversation with a casual tone when in reality--this conversation is nothing of the sort. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You’re kinda my best friend, too. Asshole.”

The two of you sit in the music for a while, neither of you looking at each other. His heart is thumping unsteadily and you graciously pretend not to hear it despite your head resting on his chest. The alcohol is fading slowly and the both of you blink lazily. 

Because he can’t stop himself, because he needs something resembling a win tonight, he leans down and gently kisses the top of your head. One feather-light thing, hardly anything really. 

You feel it. You always do. You never miss a thing. 

“Do you wanna stay?” He asks. 

“You already took my shoes off,” you mutter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: OH MY GOD JUST FUCK ALREADY!!!!!!!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

[according2thelore]

Do you know what just occurred to me about the Ls/es verse? And I don’t know if you’ve written this- but like. LsDean is obviously hilariously jealous. Everyone is jealous of everyone here. And he’s super jealous about the care lssams face, and the possibility of sex, and everything. But like. Can you imagine esdean making lssam laugh? Like? Hysterically. The huge belly laughs that aren’t even easy to get out of essaam- Sam’s never laughed too easy. But lssam? You get smiles and chuckles. You don’t get that huge laughter anymore. Not for years. And just watching/walking in on. Esdean cracking up lssam? Holy shit. Murderous rage. Crippling insecurity. Just. Peak peak jealousy and hatred for himself. I’m not entirely sure lsdean wouldn’t take a swing.

GAH!!!! reporting this post to a trusted adult!!!

i absolutely had to write this--your mind...it's too big...

dean hears it when he's coming in from the garage.

his feet turn and begin a pilgrimage before he can even think about it, drawn to that sound like he's sure vultures have been drawn to the smell of carrion for millennia.

as he gets closer, it registers.

laughter. sam's laughter. his sammy's laughter. the voice is deep, booming, too low for sam's 2006 voice. disbelief and something that feels vaguely like nausea makes dean's stomach twist as he picks up his pace.

he finds them in the laundry room.

"that was the worst line i've ever heard" sam sputters between bouts of--dean rounds the corner, and yes, it is. laughter. raucous, side-splitting, freeing laughter.

sam howls again, loud, long peals of laughter bursting from him as he has to hold himself up on the washing machine.

young dean is laying a few feet away from him in a puddle of spilled laundry detergent, goopy blue sludge slipping under his palms as he props himself up. he looks up at sammy like sammy has created the earth, like sammy is the first human person he's seen in a decade. his eyes are wide, adoring, the ghost of a smile on his own lips as if to sip from sam's joy, mouth twitching in small movements around nothing as he tries and fails to come up with words.

sammy's head is thrown back.

dean's breath catches in his throat when sam tilts forward, laughing so hard that he's holding onto his stomach. his hair falls into his face.

he looks younger. decades younger. he looks like when dean--running on two hours of sleep and three skin-of-the-teeth hunts--had glued the slide of his gun to his hand when he mistook a bottle of gorilla glue for the gun oil. he looks like when he was six, rolling around crying because dean had tickled him.

dean hasn't been able to make him laugh like this in...

something shriveled and angry and mean contracts in dean's stomach.

dean wants to go over and slam his younger self's head into the concrete, again, again, until his stupid teeth out, until sam stops laughing like that, like he...like he--

younger dean is still looking up at sam like he's god--and fuck, tears leaking out of his eyes from mirth, face pink, dissolving into helpless giggles, sammy might as well be.

they were doing laundry together.

dean's ears ring.

the world snaps into focus, like unmuting a football game on TV just as the introductory musical sting plays, deafening.

sam--as if he can hear dean's life crumpling like a tin can--lifts his head. his smile dims a little, and dean wants to fucking goddamn die. when did he become a person that makes sam's joy wilt? when did he become a person that couldn't make sam laugh like this?

"dean," sam says, out of breath, still chuckling a little. his eyes flick over dean's face, then away back at dean on the ground. "you should've seen it--"

"hey!" his younger self squawks, spreading his legs a little like he's doing snow angels in the pool of detergent. "not cool, dude. let me die in my silent, clean shame."

sammy collapses.

he's holding his stomach, brow pulled together and mouth open as he cackles like he has no worries at all.

dean takes an aborted step forward, feeling raw and vulnerable like an exposed nerve, like a hunter without a brother at his back.

he's nauseous.

dean hates this. he hates that sammy needs this so bad that stopping it would be cruel, hates that he cannot give sam what he needs. since when has he not been able to give sam what he needs? what he wants? since when can sam find necessary things from others?

dean is furious, but he's not sure at whom. his hands shake, so he bundles them into fists. he looks at his younger self, who pales visibly.

dean has been labouring over sam's laughter. he's been putting in minutes and hours and days building up jokes, throwing out quips like one tries to take shots at a bullseye. he's gotten chuckles, sure, and one time--it sticks out like a recording in dean's head--sam had rocked with silent laughter when the coroner they were interviewing sneezed so hard he fell backwards into his tray of tools and sent scalpels flying.

dean has been working himself raw to get sam to look like this. and here comes this--this interloper, and makes sam look fifteen years younger, make side-splitting, joyful laughter spill from his lips.

he has never hated anything more, body and mind warring with each other as sam's laughter makes dean's shoulders untense, make his chest fill lopsided-full, and as his mind focuses on his younger self, an impudent little bastard.

has dean...has dean lost this?

he thought that sam had just been through too much to laugh so hard he cried. but clearly, he can. clearly, only dean's younger self can do this. clearly, sam can only be coaxed into joy by this...this boy. clearly, sam has a preference. a favourite.

the problem wasn't sam's. it--all along--has been dean's fault.

dean's lost this ability. somehow, somewhere, dean became too cynical or too mean or too warped for sam to feel this.

"hey, man, it's not--" his younger self says, smile completely gone and face grave. he looks--and goddamn him straight to hell--sympathetic. understanding.

dean doesn't want to be understood.

he doesn't want his failure to be understood, to be seen in real time, acknowledged that he is inferior, that there are parts of him that sam can love better, and those parts died years ago.

dean's going to kill him. he knows he's breathing fast, can feel the spark of violence right in his neck, in his arms, in his hands. he wants to slam dean's stupid face into the fucking concrete. he wants to hit him until he is as unrecognizable as dean is, until he loses this thing that sam clearly loves so much.

he tolerated the little bastard before now because he understands his awe, knows that the kid can't be helped but drawn into sam more than a sailor can be pulled towards the sea. he's an annoying little shit, and doesn't know his limits, but dean--on some level--got it.

but now he has something that dean wants, has something dean mourned for years, thought he wasn't ever getting back.

dean turns, before he can take another step forward and do something that'll turn sam against him forever, and, like a coward, flees.

GAHH your mind...i am now Thinking...you're so right LS!Dean would either be throwing punches or barely holding himself back... thank you sm for this ask!!! <3

-lizzy

(ES/LS masterlist here)

[ragnarokhound]

for the au ask game—dimension or time travel au? 👀

For the AU ask game!

Ohhh this kind of au is always so fun because there's literally infinite directions to take this OwO the question for me becomes what would be the most fun/interesting time or sideways universe to send them (and if only one goes back in time, or both of them 👀) or what alternate reality would it be the most galvanizing for them to see... 👀

Oh. I know. I'm still in my cups over saltwateroracle AKA @n1ightw1ng's Arkham Knight Jason dimension hopping au so...

Five fun facts from a dimension hopping au I'd write:

Your choice of comics verse Jason and Tim who don't get along, enemies to coworkers style. But ala The Long Way Home (excellent fic btw everyone who cares about Jason and Tim's relationship whether romantic or platonic please go read it) they get warped together to Arkhamverse and don't realize it. At first.

Separately, they meet their arkhamverse counterparts. Jason nearly get blown up by Arkham Knight Jason, Tim has no idea what to make of his double being married? To? Babs? They meet back up and go 'you thought YOUR double was weird'

'you thought your double was weird, wait til you get a load of fucking BRUCE.' 'Is the batmobile? A tank??' Jason gets very sus of the 'suppressive rounds' Arkham Bruce fires at the mercenaries. Tim gets very sus of the whole ass people he's got stashed away at the batcave lmao

Arkham Bruce is running on such severely fucked up fumes that it makes them actively miss their own Bruce back home. They help him with rounding up Riddler and Scarecrow and with handling the thorny Arkham Knight problem, but absolutely are going to get betrayed 'for their own good' (or because Bruce doesn't trust them) eventually. So they find themselves leaning more and more on each other as the only familiar and trustworthy face in this fucked up dark clown maze version of Gotham

Things end better because of their influence than in the game (something something cure for jokerism something something Arkham Knight Jason gets catharsis/reconciliation and a shock blanket and some soup) and they get themselves home ASAP and everything 100% goes back to normal and they definitely will not be talking about how Tim totally kissed Jason when they thought they were going to die at the end there, nuh uh, no way, Tim has very important debriefings to write byyyye--

(Bonus fun fact: Bruce is very confused but ultimately accepts the out-of-the-blue check ins/hugs he receives from Tim and Jason with aplomb. He reads Tim's report and goes 'Ah. Yes, dimension hopping will do that to a motherfucker'. He can't follow-up with either of them though, for some reason they've both gone dark for a week. Together. At the same safehouse. Hm. Better to leave that one alone, he thinks.)

[wren-beowulf]

GUESS WHAT BITCHES ITS

INTO THE WREN-VERSE

I don't know why I decided to do this but I suspect it's because I lack any semblance of self control.

I made one "Wren" or "Sirius" for every Tumblr colour, each with their own personalities and backgrounds, though with certain singularities, their "Canon Events" So to speak.

RED IS @roan-rossignol

- The "Bastard Wren." Bastard child of Loki, Bastard personality, bastard of a man.

- Owns a casino and speakeasy called Red Velvet and is DEFINITELY shady, where all the underground shadowy people go. Seems like he's running a whole ass mafia. Is he really? Who knows.

- Sirius is his half brother on his mom's side, Works as a bartender at the bar there and makes a pretty good bouncer. Literally the only thing keeping Roan from going batshit with his brand of crazy.

- His intelligence lays with his words of manipulation, tricking people into making deals with him without lying, but only because he doesn't have to. He's also incredibly intelligent when it comes to any kind of game, especially the ones at his casino. His skills lay in people and puzzles.

- Magical powers, the odd one out in that. Mostly in deceiving and shape-shifting, though has greatly expanded his magical prowess over the years.

ORANGE IS @brother-of-a-villain

- Sirius Prime, so to speak. A voice of reason for his own ball of crazy back home. He is tired, and honestly not much surprises him anymore. How is he able to keep up with everyone's shenanigans? Even he has no idea.

- Runs an autoshop in the Bowery and is good at what he does. He's really putting those 7 years of school and masters in aerospace engineering to good use.

- Wren is his full brother, and has done most things in his life to try and protect them. Most of which haven't worked, which he feels emence guilt over.

- Doesn't have any powers, but may be a carrier of a dormant Metagene.

GREEN IS @fenris-morant

- The "Quiet Wren/Sirius", which is probably due to the amnesia he's had for the past year and a half of his life, so it's not like he has much to talk about.

- Is a very active and stupidly good Mercenary/Hitman/Assassin named "Wolfsbane", a play on his namesake and the deadly plant.

- Does not know who this "Sirius" Guy is, other than the dogtag around his neck when he woke up and the birthday card in his pocket. Wants to find him to figure out who he is and what happened. Though, he could also BE Sirius and just chose the wrong name, he doesn't know yet.

- His intelligence related to anything killing and detective work. He's a great tracker that way. He can calculate the curve of a bullet through a pipe and can pin a fly by its wings without killing it. This guy knows how to cover his tracks.

- Has the ability to turn his body, or parts of his body into green lightning that can phase through attacks, move as fast as lightning, and pack quite a punch. Can also manipulate the weather to create electrical storms. He's also rather immune to electrocution.

BLUE IS @wren-beowulf

- Wren Prime. the fuckin' crazy one who you definitely know is fuckin' crazy. The good kind of crazy (sometimes) with a good heart.

- Used to be a villain, but hey, love changes people. Works as a mechanic who dabbles in the illegal now.

- Sirius is his brother who is still very much a part of his life. I'd say he's the only thing keeping Wren from blowing everything up, but considering that already happened that's a lie.

- His intelligence is in anything engineering related, can figure out anything you put in front of him and can make virtually enything in record time. Also does coding, but simply prefers building.

- Has the ability of Duplication, and can make doubles of virtually anything, even himself, which he does often. He also recently acquired weird ghost powers which he's still figuring out.

PURPLE IS @caspian-vares

- The "Mellowed Wren" But also not really lol. He seems pretty calm, but if you actually know him he's just a different brand of adrenaline junkie who has trouble separating the "Could I?" From the "Should I?"

- Works part time as an anonymous newspaper photographer, as well as a local "fixer" of odds and ends. Also works as a notorious hacker known as SP3CTER who is known to be able to get into anything and vanish without a trace, like a ghost.

- Sirius was his... brother? Though since Caspian was adopted he has no idea if they were biologically related or not. He's... also been dead for a while, leaving Casper with a lot of guilt over his death.

- His Intelligence is basically a reverse of the Prime Wren's. He's a stupidly competent hacker and tech wiz who also does some engineering, though mostly as side projects.

- He has the ability of multiplication, and can make multiples of virtually anything, even himself, though only does it if he has to. After his brother's death he awakened a secondary mutation that gives him telekinetic and telepathic abilities, which he hates. Though it is noted that one of his biological parents had a telekinetic/telepathic ability as well.

PINK IS (I HAVENT MADE HIM YET BARE WITH ME)

- He's a Sirius who's "Wren" died :>

WHITE IS @brother-of-a-demigod

- The "Criminal Sirius" who is 200% done with your shit. He's pretty much the only thing keeping his brother, Roan, from fucking up everyone's shit. He's tired, but that seems to be true throughout the multiverse.

- He's in charge of the Bar at the Casino, an expert mixer, but not afraid to become a bouncer if you all can't behave. (Trust me, he's better than his brother)

- Wren is his half brother, and he's not jealous of the whole half God thing. Seriously, seems like a pain.

- Uses magical tattoos, not particularly efficient in magic otherwise.

GO FORTH AN BOTHER THEM!

Message them! Torment them! Flirt with them! Ruin their lives or make them better it's up to you! These are my babies and they're out in the world for you now, go crazy, you have my permission.

[hms-no-fun]

Tell us about Dill and Alexander! I kinda picture them in my head as Kermit and that blue eagle Muppet but gay and gamer/greasy mechanic. Is that where you got the idea? Is sburb's frog fascination gonna play into the story of these boyos?

oh what's that? you want to be the captive audience for a lore dump about my very special guys? completely unprompted and with total investment in everything i might have to say? well well, don't mind if i do!

SO, Dill Croaker and Alexander Falcon are members of a now-defunct group called The Falconers. they are modeled after Star Fox (the team) from Star Fox (the video games). we haven't seen Alex on screen yet, but here's @girlpillz's rendering of Dill for B1 verse 1, where Lenore Lehart shows off her sick bouncy ball skills for Dana Straten to get the attention of Dill.

Alex being a blue falcon, i imagine he looks legally distinct from Falco Lombardi from Star Fox (the video games; the team) albeit less cocky and attitudinous.

there are technical reasons for The Falconers' existence. going into 3.2B, i knew i wanted a secondary supporting cast in the margins capable of handling dirtywork off-screen. for instance, they're decrypting and analyzing Lenore's stolen witch data so the main cast doesn't have to worry about it, leaving us more time to luxuriate in what we're actually here for: feelings.

Star Fox 64 is my favorite game, so when it came time to come up with that supporting cast, the possibilities of a knockoff Star Fox team immediately sold me on the idea (especially since this is the only story where i will ever reasonably be able to get away with such a blatant act of self-indulgence. you wouldn't believe it from looking, but i don't actually do a lot of indulging myself with Godfeels. i try very hard to never throw things in without serious calculation. The Falconers are pretty much the only thing i've introduced that came as an inorganic external mandate of my own selfish making, and even then i've worked very hard to integrate them naturally). as a broken up four-person crew, they mirror the Upsilons-- and so, them helping the Falconers reunite in order to find Alphi and Edie gives these guys some juice. their backstory is a shadow of the Upsilons', and a useful point of comparison as the narrative plugs along. i could've made a girl Star Fox team, but frankly Godfeels is just so women-centered, so female-focused, so tgirl-transfixed that i figured it was about time to throw the boylikers a bone.

The Falconers are balanced as a calculated twist on the Star Fox team. the most immediate difference is that here, Alexander Falcon fills the role of Fox McCloud. he's the charismatic team leader, a little surly (especially these days) but good at his job and deeply committed to the care of his team. Dill Croaker is, obviously, only about five runs through the dryer away from Slippy Toad, and fills the same role. my reason for this is that everyone is mean to Slippy and they're wrong. Slippy is a brilliant engineer and programmer, why do you expect him to be an ace fighter pilot too? that's YOUR job, hotshot! Nintendo themselves have been all over the map with Slippy in terms of characterization, pretty much never getting him quite as right as he felt in 64. so, yeah, Dill is my take on Slippy: a clueless gamer frog who plays with a lot of edgelords but is himself impervious to their venom. he never cusses because he's a good boy, and he respects women.

Dill and Alex have lived together on Crime Planet for a long time. are they fucking? no, i don't believe they are. Dill strikes me as something of an ace king, and anyway i don't think he's Alex's type. mostly they work together in the shop and hang out doing bro stuff. maybe Alex lifts weights while Dill plays shitty space MOBAs. but all this begs the question: who is Alex's type?

as of the B1 solo we've learned a little bit about the other two Falconers. first there is Erol [last name unknown], the oldest member of the crew who's likely analogous to Peppy Hare. which leaves us with Yolo Sionnach. a lot of information can be implied about him from this exchange:

yes, a lot of information indeed. but as much as i would love to enumerate the implications, i must hold my tongue. i mean, i would type it all out, but i can't, because i'm literally using my fingers to hold my tongue in place so that i can't say the spoilers out loud

anyway, i like the muppet comparison. that wasn't what i had in mind at all, but now i'm imagining the Falconers as the puppets Nintendo used to advertise Star Fox Zero and........ ohhhh scope creep you saucy temptress

the Slippy slander is rampant! and that's to say nothing of the ad where muppet versions of Satoru Iwata, Shigeru Miyamoto, and Reggie Fils-Aime slowly transform into Peppy, Fox, and Falco respectively.

i can't say that Sburb/the Universe Engine have much to do with The Falconers' story. they're not godtier, they don't know anything about the UE, they are literally just space mercenary furries. they come from the Lemurian Star System, trained at the Academy on Lemuria, and worked in the Lemurian Sky Corps until starting their own independent outfit as contractors (which i imagine is a fairly common career path in a region racked by interplanetary war and rampant espionage). age-wise, they're in their mid 30s.

thank you for this wonderful question. no one ever asks about the other guys, and i am always dying to talk about the other guys.

[pianokantzart]

I want to discuss the difference in the relationship between Mario and Luigi in the games vs in the movie universe. I mean, is their bond wholesome in both scenarios? Yes. Obviously. But there is a special closeness between Movie Mario and Luigi that I really need to ramble about. In the games, Mario was born into the world where he belongs– a world that needed a daring hero. One of his first acts was to go on an adventure to rescue his brother, even though he was a literal infant at that time. He hit the ground running the moment he gained consciousness, and hasn’t slowed down since. Everyone sees this heroism and determination, and admires him for it.

But in the Movie Verse, Mario is born into a lower-middle class family of blue collar workers in a world that doesn’t take well to reckless heroism. Bullheaded bravery is considered amusing at best, and an embarrassment at worst. There are no monsters to fight or princesses to save, there is only money to make and jobs to do, and Mario does his best to adapt.

In the games (the Mario & Luigi RPGs in particular) Mario doesn’t react to people disregarding or talking down to Luigi unless Luigi shows it bothers him, because, otherwise, I don’t think Mario even knows it hurts him. He probably thinks that surely Luigi knows his worth, and that there’s no use getting defensive over pointless nonsense when there’s more important things at stake. There is a lot of love between the brothers, but there is also the natural divide between someone who has fit in effortlessly his entire life, and someone who has been struggling desperately to keep up with him, just to get brushed aside because he doesn’t measure up in the eyes of the world.

Heroism doesn’t come easy to Luigi, but he does it anyways because he cares about his brother, and wants to do the right thing.

In both the games and the movie Luigi is an anxious, goofy, clumsy victim of continuous bad luck, whose kindness and good nature always shines through despite everything. He is deemed too gentle and nervous to fit in, an easy target who can be mistreated and pushed around without consequence... ... unless, of course, Mario is there.

In the games, Mario will argue on behalf of his brother if it’s clear his feelings are hurt, but in the movie verse Mario is prepared to throw hands in a heartbeat the moment you disrespect Luigi, because that version of Mario knows what it’s like to be talked down to. He knows what it’s like to be brushed aside and belittled, he knows that whether you take it personally or not all those small insults wear you down over time, and he isn’t going to let anyone do that to his little brother. 

On the flip side, Luigi is one of the few people who sees Mario for himself, and loves him for it. Though there are no monsters to fight or princesses to save (yet), Mario’s brashness helps Luigi stand up for himself... helps him move forward... balances him out. Luigi has always been the one person in this world who needed Mario to be as brave, bold, foolhardy, and heroic as he was.

Neither of them fit in, but they see each other and love each other for what everyone else has determined to be their weaknesses. 

In the games, Mario can easily stand on his own because he’s being helped, uplifted, and supported by everyone and everything around him.  In the movie? Luigi was, for the longest time, the only one who allowed him to truly be himself. 

[turnandface]

TAG DROP — BEAUFORT SMITH

about — what is home if not the first place you run from?

asks — you're gonna get over it someday‚ might as well get over it now.

interactions — what's the point of livin' and feelin' so loveless?

aesthetics — my rifle‚ my pony‚ and me.

playlist — oh i wish i was more than my skin and my bones.

reflection — even salt looks like sugar.

isms — the southern belle.

wishlist — beau.

RIAN; if I didn't care would I feel this way?

ULYSSES; the two of us on the run.

verse — count up all the places we've left behind.

verse — blues run the game.

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦- ℕ𝕆 𝕎𝔸𝕀𝕋 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @nenes-numberonefan request: HELLOOO

ima request the same thing i requested @/mizu-nights but i’m a silly goose and i wanna see everyone’s style of writing

basically can i request rui, nene and tsukasa x reader (separate) and they have a platonic relationship with our beloved y/n but then they accidentally confess their love to the reader, sort of like the verse “the time is right your perfume fills my head the stars are red and oh the nights so blue, and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you ❤️” from the song something stupid. thank youuu xxxxxx love youuuuuu 😍😍😍🥶😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍(very hyper rn)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ HIIII!! Yeah absolutely! I don't tho songfics normally tho, so I just based on your description and hopefully that's gonna be good enough!

But omg, the moment I saw this, I wanted to run to mizu-nights and read it because I apparently missed this fic- but NOPE I didn't wanted to accidentally write the same thing sooo I held myself back ^^

I totally did not copy lines from event for Tsukasa part-

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

Affiliation with @virtualbookstore

You've agreed to help Tsukasa with practicing for his upcoming performance, Romeo&Julia. He got the role of Romeo while his other friend from troupe got Julia. He just wanted someone to help him get that feeling of saying it right to soemone's face and... maybe he had planned something more too?

"O Juliet! Sun of my life! I beg of you, allow me your fair hand in marriage!!"

He was now on his one knee, holding your hand like pure gentleman with his left hand. This made you both happy and regretful for agreeing to help him... it's obviously very sweet to see him like this but it's also not helping your feelings for him... and you could swear you're blushing...

"Sweet Y/N...!"

But then he said your name... and you finally looked at him just to see him clearly in state of daydreaming, not stopping reciting next lines, so you had to stop him before he gives more hints than you can handle!

"Wait, wait... wasn't the second main character's name Juliet? Why did you say my name...?"

His face immidietly gained red hue and his hand didn't stop holding your gently. His eyes still looked focused on yours as if he haven't woke up from his dreamland, but his words told you his state was something completely else than you imagined...

"Y-Yes I know..."

You could only stare at him in slight shock... you didn't knew what to say and so did he. He was barely holding himself from turning it into a play someway... but he repeated one sentence in his head, "go big or go home", if he blurted it out, might as well go along?

"O Y/N, sun of my life, I beg of you, allow me to take you on a date!"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bad-the-an-enjoyer @yulikesminori @alicewinterway18 @nenes-numberonefan - come get your future star!

You and Nene were hanging out on a rooftop at Kamiyama. Even if you're from Miyamasuzaka, let's say Emu teached you a trick or two~ So either way, you can enjoy your time with your dear friend!

You leaned in, wanting to see what she's playing and for once, instead of seeing shooting or rhythm game, you found her playing some... visual novel? Or was it otome game?

"Hey Nene? Are you playing... otome game?"

"Mhm, yeah."

She responded, clearly way into the game to process what she's saying. But that never was a problem for you since she still responded and was honest if anything when she was in this state.

"Look, you can even name your love interest~"

You looked at the screen with even more interest and saw 2 names... "Nene" and "Y/N". You get why her name would be here but yours? Were you... no way, right?

"Is... is Y/N the name of your... ingame love interest?"

"Yeah, real love interest too."

She finally looked up from her phone right at you with this soft and charming smile, when she saw your blush she was even confused for a second! Untill she realized... she just blurted it out, didn't she?

"Oh- uh- I mean... not like... Like..."

Now it was her blushing like crazy not knowing what to say... she was clearly between 2 thoguhts and had no idea which to choose... oh did you know it was all about if she should tell you the truth or a lie...

"Am I actually~?"

You couldn't help but encourage her a bit, hoping to hear the truth. If she actually saw YOU as the love interest, the real one! Or... if it's just a misunderstanding...

And luckily, you didn't had to wait for long because right after your question, she gave you a little nod, easy to miss if you blinked... but her blushing face and the way she looked away would tell you it either way~

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bl4cktourmaline @nenes-numberonefan - come get your shy gamer~

Rui has texted you he forgot his coat from his house. And you as good friend, agreed to bring it to Pheonix Wonderland. He made sure you get a free ticket after all! So how could you say no to free fun at amusement park AND helping out your dear friend?

When you finally arrived at the Wonder Stage, you saw him tinkering with the robot, untill he heard someone's footsteps... his mood immidietly lighting up once he saw it's you!

"You're finally here! And I see you got my coat with you~ I can't express how glad I am for your help~"

"Don't mention it! You offered me a free ticket for that so how could I've said now?!"

He chuckled and finally came over to get his coat back, which you gave him back. And in another second, he had it on!

"But still, you're a great person for bringing it to me at THIS HOUR."

"Awh~ Don't you melt here or I'm gonna melt too!"

You couldn't brush off how sweet it was and opened your arms for quick friendly hug, since you clearly had a bit of appreciation moment going on.

"No, I mean it... you're such a sweetheart... I really couldn't avoid falling for you~"

"Huh-? What?"

After your questioning, he finally got a hang of himself pulling away with faint blush, clearly not knowing what to do. But his first reflex was to lie...

"I-I mean..."

But he seemed to stop himself... he realized lying would only make it last longer... so he decided to pull himself together, take big breath in and take the risk.

"Yes... I'm really sorry. I'm aware this is probably gonna break our friendship but... I indeed did fell for you..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @yulikesminori @toyaswif3y @bl4cktourmaline @r4wrclwz @superstar-ethereal - come get your crazy inventor~

[spiegelgestalt]

Timebomb feelings because of the Arcane trailer for season 2

So I just saw the arcane trailer for season 2. It's great. I'm so excited. (so sad that Victor and Jayce died in the explosion quite an apprupt ending for them i guess... /s)

but what i really want to talk about is these two pictures:

Because it got me thinking. One of the interesting aspects of the Jinx/Ekko relationship is that they are able to communicate through other means than direct words. And that they are able to create a different image for each other.

Long and rambly explanation under the cut, which got away from me and can be summarized with: Jinx makes Ekko more violent and Ekko makes Jinx more heroic and they love each other your honor and i want to see a team up in season 2:

Song:

Jinx has a few songs (Guns for hire, goodbye, What could have been) but they are usually solos. They are usually melodic rock. And they usually concentrate on how much Jinx was wronged.

And than there is Dynasties and Dystopia. On first watch i thought it was an Ekko song. It's after all in his style (both in animation as in genre) but some words don't quite fit:

"I might just might kick your butt Go run amok then paint my nails Never learned to raise my hand Was too busy raising hell Everything I know I am You should go and save yourself Thought you had my number, huh Congratulations, you played yourself"

this just screams jinx to me. Ekko has yet to run amok. Jinx does it all the time. I don't even know what Ekko's nails look like, but we have several distinct shots of Jinxs' blue and pink nails; Ekko doesn't raise hell, if he's raising something it's paradise. And the line "you should go and save yourself" is a good continuation/rejection of the one thing Jinx says in this fight: Look who it is - the boy savior -> go save yourself! And it forshadows the way jinx will be able to get just a loss instead of a total defeat (look she was defeated- in the aftermath Ekko had a hurt leg, while Jinx needed to be revived with terrible magic drugs there is a clear winner here). Ekko thinks he has jinx figured out but he hasn't and thats why he will hesitate in the end.

But i would also argue that not all of the song is jinx:

Ooh, yeah, he mad I'm racking up white diamonds Throw me in the sky You would swear the sun shining Ooh, yeah, he mad I'm racking up white diamonds Throw me in the sky You would swear the sun shining

this verse is both of them: Basically they are saying: Look how great i'm doing (lie) Aren't you mad about it? (They will never beat the allegation that they are bitter exes.)

And I'd argue that this is Ekkos verse:

In this gothic underground city We all sin If I bring a couple rounds with me Then we all win I came back and brought the crown with me The king's den Break your nexus and your neck 'cause Everybody's on your head

and interestingly enough it's an offer. This makes sense with the visual. Encouraged through Vi who insists that Powder is still in there somewhere Ekko conjures a situation wich is similar to their old games. And it works: It's the only time Powder appears as her young self on screen. And so Ekko makes an offer he probably made before: Trust me, back down, i can help:

He starts with: We all make mistakes - one of the things that bind Powder to the Jinx personality is her guilt over having killed her entire family. But Ekko doesn't blame Jinx he blames their circumstances (something he also does in his Zaun-duet misfit toys)

If i bring a couple rounds with me, then we all win -> this foreshadows his timetravel ability. And even if he doesn't has it at this point this whole scene breaks down time itself so it still works in my head. Ekko brings the crown with him (the hextech-crystal) and he warns Jinx that everyone is going after her.

And the second refrain which I'd argue both sing once again:

Hold still while I bag that, uh Talk bad 'til I snap back, uh This ain't brown, this that dark black This that pitch black, jet black Snap yo' ex watch me give him flashbacks

Meaning: keep still, i've got this, just trust me dude!

This song shows that Ekkos and Jinx's disagreement is far more similar to the disagreement between Vander and Silco than to the disagreement between Vi and Jinx. Vi and Jinx' disagreement is personal. Vi rejects everything jinx has become and just wants her "sweet" little sister back - Ekkos and Jinx's disagreement is political. They disagree about the question what is best for Zaun. AND I'd also argue the Ekko is far less surprised by the jinx personality. He knew Powder was a bit of a shithead. He's just pissed that she's working for Silco.

Well let's finally get to these two pictures:

We see Ekko and we see Jinx drawn as hero of the resistance in Ekkos style* (compare the mural to the video of misfit toys) We know that Jinx gave Ekko a definition that didn't suit him by creating the firefly bombs and recasting him as a terrorist. And know we see Ekko who maybe drew this picture of jinx recreating her from a terrorist into a hero of Zaun.

(see me get proven wrong in the first episode of arcane season 2...)

[atiny-for-life]

Xikers Full Storyline Explained - Part 5

Masterlist

위치 (WITCH)

Regarding the title, the Korean means "Location" but sounds like "Witch", making it some clever wordplay they actively utilize throughout the song.

If you played Maze of Choice, the YouTube multiple choice game they released as part of the album promotions (and which I covered here), you will already have an idea of what this MV is about

We open on a ticket booth standing amidst a narrow path colored similarly to the album cover - orange and black

The sign above the booth asks "WHERE IS YOUR LOCATION?", indicating once you're in, you won't know where to go

Junmin then appears, walking into the empty corridor, only for black smoke-like creatures to rush by and make a desk appear right in front of him (you can hear their screech just before his own voice comes in in the song's opening)

Going by his behavior, it's clear he has no idea where he is or any recollection of donning the clothes he's now wearing, which means their memories were wiped before they came here, presumably by TRICKY

With no other option but to play along, Junmin picks up the folded card on the table ahead and finds the words "Do you want to make a bet with me?" in a golden cursive font

Except, there is no way for him to choose: the moment he finishes reading, he's dragged away by an unseen force

My best guess here is this takes place at the same time as Maze of Choice and is showing us the recruitment process they all went through at the hands of TRICKY before they were given their powers in Rockstar

The lyrics seem to support this by telling us "You're already in TRICKY HOUSE"

We see them all in their formal uniforms after this, hair either nicely slicked back or free of product, prim and proper students as Namoo (and presumably the government and society) desires in this corporate-run world where fulfilling your predestined role is all you get to have in life

We next get Yechan's verse where they first use the wordplay of "I know your location (위치) but I'm not a WITCH"

While the others are running through parts of the maze, he's being actively attacked by the black cloud-like creatures who restrain his arms, presumably after he failed to choose the right direction

At the end of his verse, we get the first sign of TRICKY and the dokkaebi's blue fire as he wears his schoolbag and reaches for a falling sheet of paper which ignites upon his touch, presumably indicating he's picked the right one

We next see Jinsik and Hyunwoo in an office meeting room in which all the employees wear white masks

Just like in Maze of Choice and the Bittersweet Preview, we see them navigating this world together, which leads me to assume they were the only ones who already knew each other prior to getting chosen by TRICKY

Going by the lyrics, we can tell they're all going a little bonkers in this maze - constant dead ends, looping back to the start, everyone they come across lies to them, and they keep falling for trick after trick

Huge shout out to the choreography at this point (BBTrippin never disappoints) - it truly is a theatrical performance visualizing the lyrics and if you haven't watched a full live stage yet, you absolutely should - they're crushing it

Following Junmin's lines, we move on to Sumin's rap verse during which one of the dokkaebi's blue flames guides him to a locker through which he enters a new section of the maze

Note here how we transition with the blue flame and now see Sumin in red-white-and-black clothing as opposed to his school uniform (we'll come back to that in a second)

There are more masked workers in this section, all wandering a warehouse full of garment bags filled with clothes kept in shades of red, white, and black

While he's there, it suddenly gets darker and a spotlight finds him before white crumpled up paper falls from the ceiling which reminds me of the end of Tricky House when all the paper airplanes, dust and ghost-like objects were flying around

Minjae, already changed out of his uniform as well, is up next and also finds the garment warehouse where he gets surrounded by the masked employees who seem to capture him and throw him to the ground

Upon hitting the floor, he pounds his fist against it which seems to make the employees disappear, leaving him by himself

And this is when the lyrics first indicate he's actually enjoying this... he thinks it's a beautiful night

The music video has taken a turn: we've skipped to the present and, as we've seen in We Don't Stop, in the present, Xikers have already gotten used to their powers and befriended TRICKY, willingly choosing to live in its world

And that world includes the maze they started out in so, as they switch from their school uniforms to black-white-and-red attire, we can see them becoming a part of TRICKY's world with all the powers which come with it

After escaping, they learned the maze's layout, they know where to go, where to find everyone, how to trick and mess with them - we're now their victims

We see Junmin in his new outfit, his fist still on the ground, presumably after also making the masked people disappear, the floor now littered with clothing items in greens and blues

And we also see Jinsik, sitting in the clouds above the maze (on what we later get to see is a giant pair of scissors with the name 'xikers' engraved on it), free to look down and watch the lost people wander the maze now that he's also all dressed up in TRICKY's colors

They highlight this contrast between then and now in the next shot as well: we see Yujun wander the hallway full of doors in his uniform before we zoom out to Hyunwoo in the present looking at the maze's model, all cool, calm, and collected

The way to escape seems to be to not just follow the blue spirit fire, but to actively entrap one of the orbs, which we get to see Minjae do near the end of the video after our rap-trio's shared verse

One more shoutout the choreography at this point because, after this, they make it seem like Hunter has freakishly long arms through simple visual blocking and strategic arm placement - it's such a neat little trick

We close out with a group performance to the chant of "We already know your location" contrasting the opening question on the ticket booth and further playing with the song title

The final shot is all nine shushing us, index fingers to their lips, as we see their acquired dokkaebi spirit orbs - 10 in total because Junghoon is here in spirit