#i am perhaps slightly more bitter about this than usual
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Take It Back
Sometimes the names we have don't carry the best memories, they don't bring out the best in us. Steve and Eddie know this all too well, both weighted down by the legacies of their fathers, and it takes them a while to come to terms with the way they feel about their surnames. They both work around them, evade the connection as well as possible, and are determined to build their identities around these rotten spots, not allowing them to spoil more in their lives. The child of a criminal and a child of a cold, widely-hated businessman. What a pair they make.
At one point, they consider changing their surnames. Or moving. Maybe both, anything to escape the unfeeling, ever critical stare of Thomas Harrington and the tainted memory of John Munson. They give it a lot of thought, drink some more than they should, but it's a heavy topic and it requires a heavy dose of liquor. At the end of their discussion, they wobble back from the Hideout, leaning on each other and only stopping here and there to consider the option of throwing up. "You knoo-ow, Steve," hiccups Eddie and the sway of his hips almost has him do a pirouette, "I think I got it. The...grand plan. The mmmmaster plan. Evil. Sssso evil." He looks at Steve from under his heavy-lidded eyes. "Am evil, no?"
"You, Eds," slurs Steve and hugs the street light, "can be anything. Aaanything. So yesh. You can be evil, babe. Go do it. Spread chaos. Fight...someone. Heroes. But not El. El is cool." He looks up at the light bulb and mutters "so pretty" before realizing he's nearly blinding himself.
"I love you. I do. You...support. Me and my viles," Eddie swings around the lamp and crashes into Steve, giggling. "You will be my villain wife. The...blood bank to my Dracula or something. The electricity to my monster." He sways against Steve for a moment, then pointing vaguely behind his shoulder. "You think we can make it to the other lamp? Wanna swwwwing. Around it." He smacks his lips and repeats the word. "Swing. Swwwing. Sounds all whooshy. Like it."
Steve nods solemnly and grabs Eddie's waist. "Let's whoosh. Can you..oh shit, the other leg, didn't we come from there? Who the fuck cares...um. Can you tell me? The masterrrplan?" The last word is a bit slurred, but the next lamp is far away and it takes more than he has to just walk in a slightly squiggly line. Or just walk.
Eddie nods too, although a bit too enthusiastically, and that does it for their fragile balance. It's only thanks to Steve's reflexes that they don't smash into the ground but dive into the nearest grass patch, although the style of the dive leaves something to be desired. "Whoops. Soft," Eddie giggles and squeezes Steve's chest. "My plan, love, is to stay in this shithole. It's devious, I tell you."
Steve blinks and shakes his head, perhaps harder than necessary. "Can you...el...laborate when the moon settles down? It's ssspinny. Spinning...Sleeping beauty? Is the moon spinning the string thingy and falling asleep?"
They lie next to each other on the grass and stare at the moon. "Maybe?" mutters Eddie, his hand tracing circles in the air. "Spinning wheel? Spinning...Wheeler," he giggles and snorts several times, making more and more undignified sounds as he tries to stop himself. "Spinning Wheeler. In the sky. That would be bad."
Steve howls in laughter too and starts hiccuping. "Y-yeah. I mean. Not s-sure which is worse, Nancy seeing ev-verything from there or Mike..." He rubs his head in the grass, his hair slowly becoming more and more like a dryad. "Sorry, you were...yeah. Your master plan?"
"Oh yeah," and Eddie is giggling again, the usual undertones of bitterness smoothed over by their proximity, the smell of freshly cut grass and held hands. The night is quiet, they are alive, they are okay and if they're at a point of their lives when their surnames can actually become a concern instead of, oh wait, the world ending, Eddie will take it. He turns to Steve and nuzzles his forehead into that silly polo shirt. "What do you say to this...we stay. We keep these shitty names. And we make them...ours," he finishes, as if that was the most astute sentence in the history of mankind.
"...Eds, I think I already have mine?" Steve rubs his grass-covered head, leaving green streaks over his eyebrows. "I think..it's on my ID or..."
"Shhhhhh," Eddie presses his finger to Steve's lips and giggles again when Steve starts nibbling on his fingertip. "Not what I mean. Let's stay here and f-fuck them over. Like they fucked us over, but better. Because..." he taps his finger on Steve's lips and teeth, "...we will destroy them. What they mean in this stupid town."
There's a small light in Steve's eyes, or maybe it's just the reflection of the moon. One more kiss to Eddie's index finger and then Steve leans back, making himself comfortable on the grass. "I like it. Erase them."
"That's my big boy with his big words," grins Eddie and ruffles his hair. "Yeah. Let's...let's build something. I'll...open a garage or something. A record store. I don't care. But when that...piece of shit...gets released from prison, he will come back and find out...he doesn't exist here anymore. That Munson means...it means something else." His dark eyes travel to Steve's face, careful. "Is...is that stupid?"
"No," Steve whispers and he suddenly seems sober, gently grasping Eddie's shoulders. "Let's do it. You'll be a...small business owner or something. A honest guy. Your dad will get a heart attack," he snorts. "And I...I want to do something...with my hands. I'm good with my hands, I could do some maintenance stuff or...you know. Just help around the neighborhood. Harrington, the reliable manual worker," he muses, watching the moon again. "My dad will be so...so pissed. I wanna do it. I won't hide as a failure. I will be a proud failure!"
"Right!" Eddie nods and almost falls on Steve's face. "Let's fail the fuckers!"
They burst into laughter again and kiss, once, twice, still not enough. Eventually, Robin finds them collapsed on the lawn, giggling like maniacs. She hides her concern behind a scowl, informs them that this is absolutely NOT why she got a driver's licence, but they seem in such a good mood that she doesn't have it in her heart to yell at them more. She just makes sure they both get into bed safely, but if she's just a little smug when she hears retching sounds in the morning and if Eddie exits their bedroom, a lovely shade of green on his face (both the alcohol and the grass), well, who can blame her.
It's a long road, but they stick to their plan. Eddie starts working in a local garage, partially thanks to Hopper's persuasiveness, and soon his natural talent and hard work earn him a reputation. When people actually come in and ask for him specifically, Eddie's eyes become glassy and he might have to bite his lip to stifle a squeal of joy. Steve talks to Hopper and Wayne, the closest father figures he has, and in the end decides to apply for a job at the Hawkins PD. He is calm, reliable and well-liked, enough to resolve neighborly squabbles without much damage. And if he has the pleasure to meet his father at the station once, complaining about an overgrown bush next to the Harrington residence, he just smiles politely at that face which haunted him for decades, and tells him "I am truly sorry, sir, but they are well within their rights. There is nothing I can do and I would advise you against pursing any sort of...forceful persuasion. Because I will know if that happens and I will be obliged to act in accordance with law. Have a pleasant day." The look on his face makes it all so worth it.
Yes, there are still people who remember the murder charges and the old criminal, the cold-hearted tactics of Harrington senior and the King Steve persona, but there are also those who pat Eddie on the back when he makes sure their old car is able to make a journey across the state lines, there are old ladies who invite Steve over for coffee to share their troubles with neighbors and that's just enough. They finally feel like themselves, their surnames no longer a brand, but something that is purely theirs. Steve always comes home a bit later than Eddie, takes off his shoes and hat and kisses Eddie's shoulder as he heats up their dinner, the smell of oil still on him. "Good evening, Mr. Munson," he whispers into his ear. Eddie just grins, turns around and gives Steve a peck on the lips. "Welcome home, Mr. Harrington."
#ok so the name thing is kinda personal to me#sorry if it doesn't make much sense but it can be really difficult to have a name that is a stigma#and I just want to see Eddie and Steve tackle this in a healthy way#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#wayne munson#jim hopper#strangerthings#stranger things#strangerthingsdrabble#stranger things drabble
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OH MY GOSH YAME,,, THE 3RD STILL ISNT HERE FOR ME BUT KUNIS BDAY LETTER IS TOO CUTE I EVAPORATED INTO THIN AIR 💥💥💥 all i can think about is reader secretly giving tips to those students who ambushed him and next time they surprise him with a cake that isn't sweet and he actually likes it 💔💔 i just know you end up being popular at the akademiya solely because of kuni and people try to ask you things about him 😭😭 (i just had a sudden rush of scara love and i had to share with someone 🥹)
SUZU .. OH MY GOODNESS OKAY — first and foremost, you're very much welcome! second, i am honored and glad that you reached out to me for this bc 🥹🥹 i wanna pour my heart out in regards to the brainrot and how much i adore him and his letter so here we fucking go. welcome to another episode of ayame loves scara <3
in regards to evaporating into thin air; that is such a perfect way to describe how i felt while reading it too ;; i mentioned this in my silly lil post but i was literally smiling from ear to ear reading his letter, it's just so nice hearing he's up to his usual mundanities yet still experience something eventful in a way :') "it was so incredibly ridiculous i had to laugh" just the image of him laughing. like. genuinely laughing has me going so soft and melt into a puddle
now brainrot time ( ✧ ✧)
reader, in this vision of this specific scenario, wouldn't be affiliated with the akademiya. sure, visits are quite common for you, but it's only for a certain vahumana scholar... he's been the talk of the town for a decent while, not only for his eccentric personality; but also for possessing an insight vastly different from your typical scholar. some students had the gall to examine that harsh exterior falter ever so slightly when you arrive to mainly check up on him with a meal prepared for him, heard saying such things like “you didn't have to trouble yourself.” under his breath only for you to hear all the while he's taking what you had for him that day in his hands, scurrying away in the wild whilst treating himself to the delicacy he's grown to take a liking to ( code sentence for: loves immensely ).
of course, noticing your close bond with vahumana's one and only hat guy, it prompted a few brave souls from the akademiya to approach you and inquire about your lover. some questions were a little on the nose, and you didn't hesitate to turn those questions down for both his sake and yours. mainly his.
overtime, kuni would start hearing your name echo in the halls. sometimes in the house of daena while he occupied himself with reading to pass time. more popular for your connection to him rather than something else... of course, occasional praises being sung about you would enter his earshot, but that is precisely what they should've settled on first. regardless, the first time they ( some of the students ) interrupted his peace; jumping out of a bush with a cake that, in his gaze, was sickeningly sweet as he so described. sharp eyes from one of the students was enough to alert the others that perhaps the cake they got him wasn't something he particularly liked... so, they seek who for guidance? you, of course.
encounter after another when the students spot you at puspa cafe on your own, your desire to see your lover being unceremoniously interrupted by a student or two having a few things to ask you. you admit, you found a bit of amusement in how literally everyone in the akademiya knew little to none about him. and truthfully, you felt like some divinely favored being to be able to call him your boyfriend, but you digress. his dessert preferences was something you didn't expect to be asked a day prior to his birthday, but the question wasn't unwelcome. you'd dawn on a small smile and explain to the students that he isn't so fond of sweets. sure, he'll have dessert, but they're always bitter. your excitement was unfortunately not kept at bay when the group of vahumana students brought up why they were asking. and you, naturally, tagged along with them to surprise him.
all you did was provide directions, the path he always takes to his favorite spot that he rarely ever visits unless with you tagging along or something would weigh down his mind. and for the fun of it, you made sure to remain hidden as the group jumped out of the bush with a cake that this time, was one exactly to his liking. that same laughter that erupted from him last time, as the students told you, escaped his lips again. this one seemed more... genuine, in comparison to the last one which the students explained as "feeling like they were getting spit in the face."
from his perspective, as his eyes were fixed on the matcha flavored cake presented to him, he could just about feel your presence lurking here. you're the one who's been indulging them in their meaningless questions that were only answered for the sake of knowing more, you're watching him right now, aren't you? of course you are, not when he was able to make out the little hum that was almost taken away along with the breeze and the accomplished squeal from one of the students.
just how much did you indulge them? not much he figured, but you didn't shy away from explaining his dessert preferences. typical from you, yet that laughter that escaped his lips, the slightly lighthearted snark thrown at the students standing in front of him with his favorite cake, and the acknowledgement of your presence here that slowly began to dissipate... you have some explaining to do.
#( ❀ ) ── passerby.#( ❀ ) ── over tea with; smooches.#( ❀ ) ── the wanderer's love letters.#wanna make my response as short as possible because wowie the brain worms were rotting for this one#HIS LETTER IS SOOO CUTE AND AS OF ME WRITING THIS HIS ARTWORK IS SO PRETTY :(#the chibi artwork has my heart and sympathy ;; somebody please give him his macha cake or invite him out for tea ( i already did 🤭 )#ALSO SUZU THIS IS ANOTHER CONCEPT I COULDN'T FIT IN THE RESPONSE SO IT'S HERE#i have this in wanderer kuni's fic that'll come out way later but omfg imagine smth like this but instead you two are academic rivals#and you two are also roommates under nahida's guidance to get along and just /not/ vy at each other's throats every time#i'm not gonna go too into detail but i actually ended up using that concept for wanderer kuni's special!!#and i hope to make a mini series about it too ~
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How old are you?
On Ao3.
Vimes was shaken up by the clearing of a throat. He shuddered and opened one of his eyes towards the interloper.
It was his senior clone commander looking at him with slightly disapproving eyes standing in the door of the meditation room.
“Sorry to wake you, sir.” He said with an even voice.
“I wasn’t sleeping, I was meditating, immersing myself into the force.”
He answered rubbing his tired eyes. He felt as if he was wringed through a power converter. He stayed awake all night perusing the reports from the front.
He wanted to figure out where the man might be so he could finish this force damned mess, before the war escalates even more, but unfortunately Vetinari proved just as cloak and dagger as always. Oh, he appeared plenty of times to give some speeches, or welcome a system joining into the CIS, but there wasn’t really any way to figure out where he will be next. In this rate Vimes would need either a galaxy’s worth of luck or the assistance of the Force itself to ever get to the trail of the man.
“Only a layman could have mistaken such a deep trance to mere sleeping," he added hurriedly.
“Admittedly the snoring didn’t help, sir.” Said the commander folding his arms with a slightly disapproving look in his eyes.
“All right, all right, you got me. I might have dozed off a little. “ Vimes pushed himself up, his body was aching, he was far too old to sleep on a cold floor, but he rather take up a carrier in shovelling bantha manure than ever admit it to anyone. He had to steady himself as his legs began to itch and prickle when the blood returned into them.
“You should have a proper eight hours, sir. In Kamino we had a strictly mandatory sleep period every night.” Said the clone, his voice indicating that this was in fact the right and proper way one should conduct his nightly rest.
Vimes shook his head while trying to massage some blood into his legs. Sleeping on the floor was one thing, but in the meditative position was an even worse idea.
“That sounds like a form of torture to me, I have no idea how they were able to do that while you had your teenager years. Keel and I was patrolling the streets all night when I was that age. He always said it was easier to come with me than to try to keep me within the temple. “ He smiled a bit as he reminisced before catching the clone’s puzzled expression. “Yes?”
“Are teenager years supposed to be different than any normal growth period, sir? Clones do seem to be more competitive with each other around the age of five, sir, perhaps that could be the teenage years?” He asked with genuine curiosity.
“Don’t be daft. Teenager years are about, oh, I don’t know, from 13 to 19 usually, full of hormones, anxiety, getting embarrassed if a pretty person looks at you…” Vimes, finally getting proper blood flow in his feet now leaned down and dusted himself off.
“Well then, I see the problem, sir, we haven’t had those yet. The oldest clone trooper I have ever known was 13 and a half. “
Vimes froze halfway up as he was straightening himself up.
The clone commander could feel the change of temperature in the room. It felt like walking into a freezer from the sweltering heat of the Tatooine sun.
“What?” The jedi asked the word seemingly coming with a hollow echo from somewhere.
“I am sorry, sir, did I say something wrong?” He tried desperately to guess the reason of his superior’s sudden change of mood. Vimes expression was suddenly seemed to be carved out of stone.
“How old are you, Commander?” He finally asked, staring at the man, eyes fixated on his face.
The clone had the idea that even though the jedi was looking at him, his mind was occupied with something else.
And he was right, in Vimes' mind thoughts chased each other, as a bitter realisation slowly presented itself. They might look like adults but, you can change a lot of things during cloning.
“I am, biologically around 22, sir. “He answered primly but sensed that this was not the right answer, because Vimes tensed his jaws.
“And in the real actual world commander? How. Old. Are. You?” Vimes was forcing out the words because something was roiling inside him and it took all his concentration just to not let it burst out.
“I am 11, sir. “Said the commander. There was a silence, it was cold, and empty, like the one between the stars. Vimes tried to bottle up the rage blossoming in him, but it would have been easier to stop a celestial collision with his will alone. “I'm sorry, sir I-”
One of the bulkheads in the meditation room suddenly buckled inwards.
“Don’t you dare say sorry to me! “Said Vimes through gritted teeth. “You damned well haven’t done anything wrong! Nothing in the world. You did not ask for it, you haven’t got a choice commander. You were made without a name, given a number, and a rifle to fight to the death at 11 years old, and you dare to say sorry?!” Another bulkhead began to creek.
“I-I don’t know what I should say, sir, I-" the clone commander tried and found himself trembling.
Vimes caught the movements and the fires of rage died down inside, they began to freeze into icy mountains instead.
Taking a deep trembling breath, he forced down his storming thoughts.
“Nothing, you don’t have to say anything commander, this was not done by you, this was done TO you. Done to you by this accursed war. I was this far unaware of how far we have fallen…No am I wrong, I do want you to say something Commander. “
“Y…Yes, what is it, sir?”
“Your name. I want to know your name. I hope you choose on already. “
This will be the first step, Vimes promised to himself. Those Kaminoans, those spineless grey bastards took their life away from these boys and he will give it back to them no matter what, even if he has to go against the whole council. Treating people as things, as weapons?
There was no bigger injustice in the galaxy, he wouldn’t abide his own people doing it.
“Yes… “The Commander nodded finally calming down himself. He never saw a jedi angry, but he began to understand that at least there was some truth about what he learned about their fighting proves. “ Padawan Carrot was a great help in it. He suggested a couple of alternatives…”
“Glad to hear it.” Vimes shook his head trying to seem nonchalant, even though the glacier were still towering against each other inside him. “So, what is it?”
“I am Law, sir. Commander Law. “
“Law? I assume he told you we were coppers back in our world after I took a leave of absence from the jedi order.” He nodded slowly.
Of course, Carrot would tell him that, he probably told him some more than a little embellished tales about Vimes heroics to boot. By the force the kid doesn’t need more nonsense in his head, the Kaminoans put enough in there as it is.
“You know you could have chosen anything?” Vimes asked with a gentle sigh.
“Yes, but I wanted to choose this one, Sir.” Law eyes met Vimes’s. “To show that I am serving with you and the Peacekeepers. “
Vimes suddenly shuddered, the ice inside him still remained but there were some other feelings too now. These boys had such a trust, such a faith in them, he couldn’t allow himself to let them down.
“You… I have done nothing to earn that yet.” He managed to mumble at last and before the commander could protest or say something daft about him not needing to earn it, he began to gently push him out the door. “At any rate, let’s call an assembly right now, shall we? I want to create some new rules, and want some input about possible new equipment and food rations I wish to order.”
“New equipment and rules Sir? And aren’t our nutrient blocks sufficient?” He tried vainly to protest,
“Sufficient my arse commander, you are eleven years old and had no opportunity to be yourself, I will be damned if I don’t give you some normal food, free time, and personal items. “
“But sir we are soldiers made to…” He tried again as he was In the corridor. Vimes raised his finger and gently poked him in his chest.
“Not on my ship Law. On my ship you are a Peacekeeper, and more importantly, yourself. Call that general assembly, everyone in the hangar within the hour. And find me Carrot, I need to speak with him about stuffing your head full of nonsense. And Law…”
“Yes, sir?”
“Cherish yourself, and be more independent. That’s an order. “
“Yes, sir.”
#Discworld#star wars#discworld fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#vimes#samuel vimes#clone wars#The Copper Sabre AU#sam vimes#The Clone Wars#copper#The Emperor in Silver
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Yet another excerpt from I Survived Kirk, my forthcoming fanfic autobiog from the POV of a bitter redshirt on Kirk's crew
I’m going to step outside the usual retelling of events in a vaguely chronological order here to talk about hypotheticals in a particularly vague manner. Perhaps I’m just making up bollocks to sell more copies of my book, or maybe I’m dancing around subjects that were deemed “no no” by Starfleet Command. You decide.
The Vulcan Science Directorate determined that time travel was impossible, centuries ago. That’s what they claimed, at lest, and what they drilled into generations of Vulcans. “It’s not possible. We tried it. You don’t need to try it, just take or word for it.”
WHAT IF… what if… it were possible? Some of you might have heard of Zefram Cochrane’s legendary drunken rant and rave at Princeton, about cybernetic creatures from the future attempting to interrupt his warp flight. What if he was telling the truth? Maybe the Vulcans were lying because the implications of time travel being possible could be devastating. Or perhaps they were just plain wrong?
So… strictly hypothetically, if time travel WERE possible… surely some of the ancient aliens we know of would have discovered it too, yes? They’d probably have perfected means of using it. And used it repeatedly, to go anywhere and anywhen in time and space. Probably for all the reasons any of us would want to use it today. Changing things. Big things, like maybe the equivalent of stopping Hitler or Green, or preventing the Xindi attack or the Romulan war, or small things like saving a loved one or completely trivial things like getting to see a famous concert.
Which opens up yet another quantum fuckton of worms.
How would you feel about finding out the life you live is in some kind of heavily modified timeline? The whole word you now is the result of someone else fucking with the universe? Perhaps things are better than they might be otherwise. Or maybe it’s much, much worse. You don’t know, you never will and it’s something you had no input in.
You’re not who you’re supposed to be, but some weird alternate you that exists as the result of some douchnozzles tampering with something, somewhere.
Even little tiny things can have massive consequences. Imagine for a second, your Dad was doing something important, heard a suspicious noise outside (our hypothetical time traveller running through your yard) and your Mum’s the worrying type so she made him check it out, he never finished what he was doing. What was the important thing he doing? YOUR MUM and because he didn’t you were never conceived. Imagine every life you’ve affected. Even if you REALLY don’t matter, even if you have no friends and never had sex with anything other than your left hand and are the biggest failure ever. Even then, you’ve slightly impacted the day of your schoolteachers, or your doctors or even random passers-by have looked your way and either seen or not seen something that had a similar crazy spiralling effect on their lives.
It’s called The Butterfly Effect, named after some theory or other that a butterfly fluttering its wings can cause some kind of wind-related chain reaction that ends in a hurricane somewhere else.
So maybe, due to obscure and completely unpredictable effects of ancient aliens altering events in time, your life might not be what it should. Does that bother anyone else? It drives me nuts. It makes my skin crawl. Fuck whoever the hell it was who may have affected history on their planet or maybe even mine which rippled through time and made my life different to how it should be. What would the universe be like if none of this happened? And what’s it going to become when more and more aliens figure it out and start doing all the bad things? What happens when we figure it out? Once there was a Basic State, a history untampered with. Am I a better person there? Worse? More or less successful? Am I happier there? Was I even born, or are my parents meeting off-chance knock-on effect of one of these tamperings?
#star trek#star trek the original series#time travel#star trek fic#my fic#star trek fanfiction#i survived kirk
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Crown of Thorns (Chapter 4)
I wanted to get this out before my finals start tomorrow!
No equivalent post on AO3 right now-- I’m feeling quite embittered due to some of the backlash I’ve received there, so I might move Crown of Thorns to Tumblr only until it’s done and only then finish it on AO3.
Anyway, not much to fear in this chapter! Some uncomfy Bramble/Squirrel interactions, but that’s about it.
Text under the break!
"Are you planning to sleep 'til it's moon-high?" Squirrelflight asked him. In seasons past, she would have awoken him with a paw jab to the ribs. He would have winced, leapt to his feet, and eventually laughed once he had fully awoken.
Though he was still a young warrior, those seasons seemed very far away and very long ago now. Squirrelflight kept her distance, flicking him with her tail.
"Thornclaw wants you for the dawn patrol," she meowed. "It'll be him, you, me, Rainwhisker, and Cloudtail. They're already waiting for us outside."
"Could the good deputy not deign to wake me up himself?" Brambleclaw grumbled, still shaken from his dream and not fully awake. Squirrelflight merely stared at him, confusion and concern in her green eyes.
"He's outside naming the other patrols," she said. "If we're lucky, he'll only have put himself on two or three." She mrrowed with amusement, although it seemed a bit hollow. When Brambleclaw didn't laugh with her, she stopped. "Seriously though. What's gotten into you lately? You didn't congratulate Thornclaw on the deputyhood last night, you wake up like you didn't sleep at all, and now you're rude and snappish. What has you so bitter?"
"I'm not bitter," he snapped, raising up to glare at her. "It's not my problem that I'm apparently the only one dedicated to this Clan." He didn't train in his sleep every night, getting cuts, sores, and bruises, so that Squirrelflight of all cats would disrespect him.
She took a step back out of the warrior’s den. "Yeah, whatever, bossypaws," she said, the childish name sticking like a sharp bone in a mouse. "I'm going to go join the patrol. When you groom all those burrs out of your pelt, let me know." She left the den, which was now nearly empty.
Brambleclaw stood up and gave himself a quick lick. Perhaps he had been too harsh. Squirrelflight couldn't know all the things he had been going through, and she had only been following orders. He shook the thought out of his head, resolving to share tongues with the she-cat over a plump piece of fresh-kill later. He couldn't tell her the full truth; she would never remain friends, much less mates with him if she knew that he was meeting with his father every night, but at least he could tell her a half-truth and say he walked with StarClan each night.
He joined the patrol just as they were leaving camp, rushing to catch up. "Oh, Brambleclaw!" Thornclaw said in a far more jovial tone than he was used to. Brambleclaw couldn't help but bristle slightly, feeling as though Thornclaw was forcing the idea that he was now deputy into his face. "Good to see you finally joined us."
"I made it before you left camp," he said, doing his best to joke with him. "That counts as being on time, right?"
"I'll let it slide this time," Thornclaw said, his amusement fading to his more usual seriousness. "Next time, though, please try to be ready before we leave."
"I was just a little tired from the vigil last night," he said. "I won't let it happen again."
"I will," Cloudtail joked. The white, fluffy warrior plodded along behind Thornclaw. One of his eyes was cracked open, the other still closed. "I'm not made for the dawn patrol."
"But I am?" Rainwhisker said, gently ribbing his old mentor by trying to nudge him off the path. Cloudtail barely moved, plenty used to Rainwhisker's antics. "You were plenty spry when Thornclaw sent you to wake me up."
"Oh, he didn't send me," Cloudtail yawned back. "I took that upon myself, like any loyal warrior would."
Brambleclaw noticed at last that Squirrelflight walked silently beside Cloudtail and Rainwhisker, nearly off the path at times. That left him bringing up the rear of the patrol by himself.
She once would have fought her way to the back to walk with him or forced him to join her in the front of a patrol. Now, though, she didn't even look at him, focusing on the forest in front of them. Brambleclaw felt a brief pang of sorrow, missing her company.
Brambleclaw passed the patrol in a daze, doing his best to not think about meeting Hawkfrost in a few days' time. He hoped his nervousness wouldn't betray him, but as the patrol passed, he realized that no one was watching especially close.
Thornclaw trotted down the paths with a barely concealed pride. He had never actively vied for the deputyhood, but Brambleclaw could tell he was proud over it. Watching him silently gloat made him want to dig his claws into the ground.
Squirrelflight, on the other hand, seemed to be actively refusing to look him in the eye. She shared words with Thornclaw for a time, then fell back to walk alongside Rainwhisker. The two laughed and teased each other playfully, and Brambleclaw watched from behind as her whiskers twitched in amusement. It felt like it had been moons since he had seen them do that.
By the time they returned, the hunting patrol had returned with their prey. Without pausing to rest for a moment, Thornclaw set the apprentices to their duties. He discussed with Dustpelt about plans for the following day, well within earshot. Brambleclaw was relieved to hear that he would be free for his meeting with Hawkfrost.
"I think Thornclaw is talking about assigning himself to every patrol," Squirrelflight mewed in amusement. Brambleclaw startled at the sound of her voice, too lost in thought to have realized she was approaching. He turned to look at her. A glimmer of affection sparkled in her green eyes, though it was far dimmer than he was used to. "Do you want to share a piece of prey with me?"
"Sure. Pick one out. " As she walked away, Brambleclaw wondered what she would think if she knew he was planning to meet with Hawkfrost. Her gaze already belied a glimmer of fear—if she knew the truth, he would lose her forever. Tigerstar was exiled for his plots against the leaders of the Clans—would they do the same for him.
Tigerstar killed other cats, he reassured himself. He didn't think he had the nerve to kill anyone. It had been seasons since ThunderClan had a strong deputy, and he wasn't sure Thornclaw was the right cat for the job. All he wanted was for ThunderClan to see that and appoint him to the deputyhood—a position he thought, with an uneasy feeling in his stomach—that he deserved.
#Crown of Thorns AU#Crown of Thorns#warrior cats au#warrior cat au#warrior cats rewrite#wc au#wc rewrite#thunderclan#thornclaw#squirrelflight#brambleclaw#cloudtail#rainwhisker#(i love him so much)
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@argentumvolvi asked:
Something, or someone was trying to destroy the district of Shining Life - it was only by the time Urick had become aware of it that the growing fear he would be dead before even truly being able to reach the district that he had taken notice enough of the suspicious activity around the area to care. Usually there was little more than the subhumans to worry about with the occasional casualty, but now... They didn't seem to be the work of subhumans. They seemed to be targeted. People he knew - people getting closer to the keys. Both Generals had seemed just as agreeable to the request for added security in the case of a mishap, and Urick's leave from the Shrine was scheduled at the earliest convenience to leave an assure the safety of the seal - his own life. Urick seemed to be in a rare moment of visible anxiety as he opened the doors heading back from his address to the Generals, though almost immediately, the momentum was halted to all the stillness of a statue at the recognition of the one waiting for him beyond those doors.
Of course he was there - right outside, waiting. Urick couldn't tell whether the sight of that man being like a stray dog that stayed at his heels or a snake that stared and waited just as deceptively upset him more. He once remembered being happy at the surprise of seeing him beyond those doors.
"...Yaha."
The name was spat out like a curse, Urick's now hardened gaze able only to lock onto the other for a moment before closing and turning away. "I don't have the time to waste on idle goodbyes. If you have something important to tell me, then you'd best spit it out and go." As usual, the tone was cold, yet the hostility brittle - if there was one thing that could serve as comfort to the elf, it was that Urick could never bring himself to delight in the brute behaviour he showed towards his friend. Still, or perhaps because of it, he refused to look his way through his words. A pause. A soft scoff of a laugh, and Urick's back turned. He knew there was only one thing Yaha had to say.
"...No. Of course you don't. I meant it when I told you I didn't want to see you, and that isn't about to change, Yaha. So why not do us both a favour and go make someone else's day?" There was a certain bitter edge to his tone as he spoke those last words, a final, perhaps accidental glance cast his way for only a moment before the sound of quickened footsteps sounded through the great corridor, Urick making haste to get away himself with the final words spoken over his shoulder:
"I don't know what you're doing back."
The elf's ever cordial smile did not leave his face, even as Urick's every word was like ice cold knives piercing his heart. A small reminder, at least, that he still had one. But as soon as he'd heard about the attacks on the District of Shining Life, he had to come. If not just to see Urick himself, than to offer support.
The leutenant made his feelings on the matter of Yaha's company quite clear, however. He dipped his head slightly with a soft chuckle. "We both know the answer to that question, my dear friend. I came as soon as I'd heard. I am certain you will be fine on your own, but I am always here to offer my aid." Ah, but Urick was already leaving and Yaha had to quicken his own pace to catch up.
"We should be defending each other, should we not?"
Look at me, he pleaded in his mind, instinctively reaching his hand out to try to touch Urick's shoulder.
Yaha bit his tongue and stopped himself from doing such a rash action. But as much as he wanted to tell him that he'd made that pact for him, it would only fall on deaf ears.
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do not know if I will word this as well as I hope to but um. I'm thinking about your OCs and spinning them in my mind at top speed and this just happened.
thinking about weeks passing since the masquerade incident. thinking about a very obvious sort of tension in the air (like the "I don't know if you still like me and I am too scared to ask even though I know staying silent is only making it worse" kind), but the thing is that always finds some way to culminate, for better or for worse.
Piper sneaks into the kitchen late one night to steal a quick bite to eat, thinking no one else is awake--she's been more aversive of talking than usual--only to find Manuel sitting in the kitchen listening to old music as he works on...something. she can't discern what the paperwork is, but she finds herself with bigger concerns when his gaze meets hers and she jolts.
she wants to run--she can't run, she's tired of running--but she's frozen by this; this is the first time she's met his gaze in weeks. something's on the tip of her tongue still, some bitter quip that's quick to cut short when she catches the faintest whisper of "Please..."
his hold on her is gentle--like she's made of porcelain--as he guides her towards the center of the room. hers is much the opposite, stubbornly firm as if she hopes something will shatter.
she's turning with him fast--too fast, she's deliberately trying to outpace the rhythm in the beginning because she doesn't think he wants this--but he is quick to find a way to gently guide them back into time with the melody. and then...well, she finds herself aware of how tired of this fight she is.
her grip loosens just slightly, but she still clings; she hides against his chest, clutching to the fabric of his shirt as she practically shakes in his arms. his own composure is just barely well-kept; he's holding her like she'll fade away. there are no words spoken between them, but she swears she catches an apology in the way his head rests atop hers.
they only pull apart when the music ends. his eyes look heavy, like he hasn't been getting enough sleep. her eyes are much the same, she's sure, maybe puffier than she wants to admit. she feels as if she's been caught in the spotlight, but she can't bring himself to look away from him.
he wants to kiss her, but he doesn't want to upset her again; he doesn't think she wants him to.
she wants him to kiss her, she wants to kiss him so bad. she's about to take the leap for him, but then he pulls away just enough to meet her gaze.
three squeezes to her hand. he can't bring himself to say it, but perhaps for now this is the best he can do. he leaves without another word.
it's hard to know if this helps or hinders things. but hey, they're looking at each other now; that's surely some kind of progress.
THIS IS SO CUTE :((( 💙😭
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Vlad Journal | Prologue
"At the start of the night, he was as far as he could be without blatantly sitting elsewhere. But as we went on, it was as if we were pulled together, unconsciously. A force that we did little to fight against. The rest of the night…I’m not sure I could pen it here properly. (And perhaps should not?)"
This will be an in-character journal entry summarizing Vlad's thoughts from the latest episode of The Sanguine Society. You can find the public copy of this journal here, if you prefer google docs. This particular post is a bit longer than is usually to be expected, as it contains several entries; it is also mildly NSFW, though not all entries will be. If you like to listen to music while reading, I would recommend Elegie, Op. 24 for today's entry. I Hope you enjoy 🖤
Wednesday, April the 28th, 2023
I had kaffe und kuchen with Elenor today. She found me sitting in the greenhouse again, practicing for the show. She has been such a dear since I took residence here; accommodating my 'odd' hours and habits, with hardly a question. We chatted a bit, but my German is barely conversational these days. Shame I did not pick it up more, and leaving already. But it is nice to sit quietly as well. She says she enjoys my playing, and I enjoy her company. 3 decades has gone impossibly fast.
Friday, April the 30th, 2023
Louis Roederer Cristal Brut (2008) 1.5L
Colour: Amber, Sunlight
Fragrance: wonderfully golden fruit
Savour: Opens bright and fruity; pear and apple. A bit bitter on the end; floral, but pollen
Paired with Crème Brûlée: slightly too much fruit for the dish, but lovely to sip afterwards
Transcribe to wine notes⤴️
Sunday, April the 1st, 2023
Performance with the company has been going well; we will have our final show tomorrow. And my final altogether. I will greatly miss living here. The town is quiet. This apartment is quaint, but has only gotten finer over my stay. The people have been kind and allow me to keep to myself. I think I could stay here for quite a while longer without being bothered. But it is time. Adăpost Manor cannot sit absent and idle, it is a waste. I will be meeting with Reya after the show tomorrow, and perhaps get some updates on the community while catching up. It really will be so good to see her, it has been too long. Too long since many things. When I left Adăpost, I thought I might put it up for sale before returning, but I have found myself longing more and more. To perform in the music room and to have the smell of good food in the kitchens. To sit and read in the library and to tend to the arboretum. The place has had many lifetimes already, and it will be good to get back and find footing in a new cycle. It is not a home only for I, after all. 30 years of selfishness is enough.
Monday, April the 2nd, 2023
Aurelio was at the show tonight. Aurelio.
It was no accident of course, Reya must have planned this. Though I am not sure why. I had no words, and am still in lack. After 60 years, suddenly, Aurelio walks through my place of work. I don’t know that I ever gave much thought on what I would say, if he were to return. I would not have allowed myself to dwell there. And yet, here he is. And here am I, at a loss. He was polite, as always; asking about my colleagues and the city. Feigning interest, at the least. But he was nervous too, if I am not mistaken. In some ways it was just like we used to speak; joking, laughing, touching. And in other ways, he was more frightened than I have ever seen him. He has been traveling around Europe; backpacking and visiting family. He spoke often of loneliness, and longing for the familiar, so I offered to accompany him while he is in town. He surprised me with his enthusiasm, and then even more, with an invitation to the opera. A bold proposition, coming from him. But his excitement showed genuine, and after all this time, a night out could be refreshing. A date?
My coworkers invited us to a drink and we spent most of the night at Schlenkerla, and before I knew it, it was nearly sunrise. The rest of the lot turned in after the bar stopped serving, but I was not yet ready to watch him go. So I invited him to join me, and he agreed, even without knowing where I would take him. I showed him to the greenhouse.
His delight was apparent as soon as he saw the greenery and life growing over it.
"It's like a part of the old world reclaiming what has become modern" he says.
I had forgotten what it's like to see the world through his eyes. I feel I have been missing much. We sat and talked and waited for the sun to rise. He told me more about his family; how he has been tracing his blood lines and finding the ends. How he's gotten close to some of the younger ones, despite his eccentricities. And now he is unsure of where to go next. It seems like he has grown; the travel must be good for him. As the sky grew lighter, his face glowed with joy in telling me about the different generations he's met. His love has always made him beautiful. The sun coming through the leaves and on his skin and filling the colour of his eyes…I could almost let him burn to see his beauty in direct light. But he lives in chiaroscuro, and my heart aches all the more in the limbo. I feel that the opera will be difficult, I am not entirely sure what he expects from me. But I cannot let nerves stop me. I cannot miss this.
Friday, April the 5th, 2023
Yesterday was beyond words, but I will do my best. The opera was lovely. The champagne was delicious. And Aurelio, a beacon of light in all of it. He sent me a letter, penned in his own hand, though I did not receive it until nearly too late. I hardly had time to put together something to wear. He still dresses in his classic fine things, and wears them just as well as ever. I worried at first that I had overdressed, and that I would look quite the fool showing up at his place of stay in a tuxedo. But he knows me well, and suited for the occasion just as we used to. It was as if I had taken a step back through time, and this persisted for a good portion of the night. We shared looks, we laughed, we walked arm in arm and talked and talked. About the show and technology and travel and Vienna. I admitted to him that I will be returning. He seemed a bit excited at the concept, and said that he would like to visit. Apparently he has been searching for his sire, and thought he might be able to find more information at the Manor’s library. Perhaps he could have more casual visits, along with the research.
He apologized as well, for leaving all that time ago. Though I wish he hadn't. To see the pain I had caused him etched on his face and then take the blame for it all. I can hardly stand it. But he would not hear of my reasoning, and seemed nearly desperate to explain himself. The least I can do for him is listen and accept an apology. He said he couldn't imagine being enough; that he had never stopped to ask how I had felt. It never felt like we needed to. The fact that he suited me in a fashion that no other could, always felt so obvious. Until it was too late, I suppose. It was a bit of a relief though, to finally know. He says he was afraid, and so certain he would lose me, that he somehow ended up making sure of it.
“I had not felt the way that I felt with you for any one before, and that certainly frightened me”
My heart aches at the words, but I do not dare ask if he still feels this way. The reassurance of what once was, is enough. I brought him to the townhouse after the opera, to show him the stereo system and have some more conversation. Sat on the couch next to me, sipping wine and talking music, it was almost as if he had never left. At the start of the night, he was as far as he could be without blatantly sitting elsewhere. But as we went on, it was as if we were pulled together, unconsciously. A force that we did little to fight against. The rest of the night…I’m not sure I could pen it properly here. (And perhaps should not?)
“I don't want to waste anymore time”
My hand went to his cheek, without a thought. And our lips, meeting in a second. I am shocked for a moment, and look to his eyes to find a familiar fervor. He pulls at me, and the nostalgia washes over. The touch of cold marble, the smell of orange blossom. The look of his eyes, that of dark woods at dusk. My teeth at his neck, a taste of bitter iron; and a moan rising from his chest and vibrating in his throat under my lips. A groan that laments all the wasted time, and every second lost now between touches.
Waste no time.
My hands move faster than my thoughts, strict, leading; his fingers are gentle, pleading as ever. As always. On neck, on shoulders, on chest. Our movements and his song flowing and sliding ever down and down.
I can still hear it. And this letter he wrote, I trace the characters over and over to see the movement of his hand in the starts and stops of the ink. This letter that he penned and touched and surely fretted over, I can almost smell the orange blossom on it still. Perhaps I shall write him back; it would be my move at this point, no? I would not want him to think this was a single affair to me.
Saturday, April the 7th, 2023
He is not here. I had hoped to catch him for some coffee before I departed, but that may have been asking too much too soon. It was a fine evening, and we talked of many things, but perhaps that is all that he needed. A chat, a date, some closure. I was a fool for expecting more, really. One night with him again…It will have to be enough. I have so much to attended to at the Manor in any matter, it is long time tha
He’s here.
He came to me at the train station. He is coming with me to Vienna. He will stay in the Manor with me. I can hardly believe the words as I scribble them with him getting settled into the train car.
We're going back to Vienna.
#writing#journaling#roleplay#ttrpgs#lgbt ttrpg#the other Dracula daily#rollsrevamped#the sanguine society#Vladelio#LeeLuu Writes#Vlad Dracula#Vlad's Journal
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Twenty-two.
"...I KNOW, BUT... wait a second. She's stirring."
The first thing I heard when I awoke was the shrill piercing ringing sound in my right ear. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to sit up in bed, only to be pushed back down by a familiar, warm hand.
"What do you think you're doing? Lie back down."
"What happened? How did I get here?"
I had no recollection of how I'd ended up in my room, in my bed. I knew that had been my full intention when I'd come "home," but I also remembered the sensation of falling.
"You fainted at the doorstep. Don't you remember? You were losing some blood and severely dehydrated; it was only natural that would happen."
"Are you a doctor or something, then?"
He chuckled. "No, but my mother was." As my brain tried to process this new bit of information, he snapped his phone shut. Who still used an old flip phone in this day and age? "Shall I take your temperature one more time?"
"No, thanks. I feel fine." No need to give this guy an excuse to touch me, when that was the least of my worries. As my memory came back to me slowly--the horridness of the evening drama with my so-called "family"--I shook my head, as if trying to deny it happened. Refusing to dwell on what could very well be the cause of an upcoming panic attack, I changed the subject. "What time is it?"
"3 AM." Heath cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes darting back and forth every time my body made a movement.
"I'm sorry, you should be sleeping, not having to take care of me like this. I'll be fine now, so could you leave?"
"You don't sound sorry at all," he observed.
I clicked my tongue. "What else do you want to hear? It's not like I asked you to help me--you did it of your own accord. What, should I fall down on my knees and thank you for your sense of heroism?"
"One day, I'm going to do something about that poison-laden tongue of yours." His promise was sensual and dark, and I stared hard at my hands, barely holding back a shiver. He stood, and headed towards my bedroom door. "You're right though. I decided to help you on my own, so I suppose there's no one to blame but myself for your... lack of enthusiasm. And there's no need for you to be sorry towards me--not now, not ever." What was he saying now? He wasn't making sense, as was usual. "I'll let you rest--holler if you need anything." And with that, he made his graceful exit, leaving me angry and fussy and exasperated. What did I want? Wasn't it for him to leave? Yet why was I feeling so frustrated...
Sighing, I collapsed back onto my pillow and stared up at the ceiling, trying to empty my mind and failing miserably at it. Should I skip school when the sun comes up? No, it wouldn't be right--a waste of tuition money. I could never be so ungrateful. For now, though, I would sleep, and in my slumber fervently pray, once again, that I would not wake up and have to face the day.
***
I woke up.
I hate God.
As I trudged my ass to school, panting as it was difficult to breathe, I pondered briefly about who Heath had been on the phone with before I had awoken with him in the room. A secret girlfriend, perhaps? A bitter taste infiltrated my mouth.
I barely recalled how I made it to my seat for the first class. It happened to be the class Heath was assisting, too--hard to not think of the guy when I saw him more often than I did anyone else.
"Hi, is the seat next to you taken?"
A girl with short pixie hair and an overly sweet smile inquired, pointing to the one by my right. Immediately, I became uncomfortable. Why did people persist in talking to me when I had my beats in? Did that not give off the vibe, "Don't talk to me"? Maybe this person was just that dense.
I shook my head without saying more, hoping she would drop it. In my peripheral vision, I spotted Heath entering the lecture hall to hand the professor a stack of papers. He caught my eye, witnessing my discomfort and raising one of his eyebrows, as if he also couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Usually, nobody talked to me. But this annoying girl beamed and commenced to talk my ear off about how excited she was for the semester, and how she was hoping to make a lot of friends in college because she was a loner in high school... yadda yadda... I intensely focused on the blackboard in front of me, not because I found what the professor was writing was that interesting, but in an effort to dissuade her. But she could not be dissuaded so easily.
"Ooh, I like that anime character too!" She pointed to a sticker on my notebook. "The ending was such a plot twist, didn't you think so?"
"Do I know you?" I said, failing to hide my irritation.
"N-no, but I was hoping--"
"I hate spoilers."
I didn't let her finish and turned my attention back to the board. It didn't matter what she hoped for; I was not in the mood to make small talk--fuck what she wanted.
The chatty girl bit her lip but otherwise abided by my request for the remainder of class, to my relief. However, once class was over and I stood abruptly to leave for a smoke break, I noticed the girl tailing me, barely a step away.
Not wanting to cause a scene in the campus hallways, I pretended not to notice until we got outside to the outside smoking area. I crossed my arms and whirled to confront her, but she was no longer there. Huh. Maybe it was in my imagination...
"Hi! Do you need a lighter? Wanna use mine?"
The pixie-haired girl was here after all; still managing to smile somehow, she held out a rainbow-colored BIC lighter and held it out to me all innocently. What a complete paradox.
"I have my own. More importantly, what do you want?"
"Like I was trying to say earlier, I was hoping we could become friends. Is that too much to ask?" Her face crumpled in despair, which caused me to be taken by surprise--a rare accomplishment on her part.
"Why would you want to be friends with me?"
Truly, I was baffled. What made her think--no, what made her approach me to begin with? I knew I had a reputation for having one of the worst resting bitch faces on earth. This girl was bubbly and friendly--two characteristics I tended to avoid because I simply could not relate to those kinds of people.
She tilted her head. "What do you mean? I think you're really cool and pretty, and as soon as I saw you in the beginning of the semester I've wanted to be your friend. I only had the courage to talk to you now." She shrugged sheepishly and smiled brightly once more. "Is that too much?"
It was. It definitely was. And yet...
I couldn't shake her off, and that impressed me. It took a lot of patience to deal with me, I knew. It made my bitchiness melt away--albeit reluctantly.
I took out my own lighter and lit up a stoge without a word, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, she didn't stay quiet for long.
"I always thought it looked cooler when women smoked. Don't get me wrong, I don't smoke," the girl clarified as if I had asked, "but I do admire the women who do."
"What does that even mean?"
"I have a thing for tall women," she confessed, and winked at me. When I stared at her in puzzlement, she burst out laughing.
"I'm only teasing you, I'm teasing! God, you should've seen the look on your face."
Giving me another one of her wide smiles, she held out her hand for me to shake.
An offering.
"Nice to meetcha! I'm called Ruse, but I prefer Rue. I have a feeling we're going to be the best of friends."
Little did I know then that this would be the start of another human relationship full of bitter lies and disappointments.
But I supposed that, by this point in my life, I really should not continue to be disappointed by people.
So whose fault was it, really, if not mine--as always?
***
Rue followed me around all the time after that, whether I liked it or not. She was difficult to shake off, and I had grown tired of trying only to be faced with more of her optimism, which was even more annoying.
Truthfully, though, I was acting sulky on the outside, but I kind of liked the feeling of someone wanting my company again, for whatever weird reason. It was hard for me to accept the fact that there must've been a reason for her wanting to do so in the first place. After all, who would?
But if I could let myself live in this lie for just a little longer.
Just until I could feel like a normal human again.
"You should totally come to the party tonight, too, Irina," Rue sang as I closed my locker after shoving my books inside. "Only the hottest seniors are attending, and I heard their numbers are uneven and they need more girls."
"I told you, I'm not like that. I don't like going out."
"But you promised we'd hang out outside of your apartment sometime!"
"I did no such thing."
She pouted and linked her arms with mine. "C'mon. It'll be a nice change of pace. You said so yourself that you've felt stuffy lately--what better than to go out and enjoy the fresh air with new people at a beach bonfire? Doesn't that sound romantic?"
"No. I hate sand. And even if it did, that would be more of a reason for me not to go."
"Such a party pooper!"
I shrugged. "It's not like you didn't know."
It was new, this feeling, yet familiar at the same time. I hated to admit it, but spending time with Rue reminded me of Abel more often than not. Their personalities... they were so similar. It was like their happiness could never be dampened, even by my own exuding darkness. Of course, still different, but at this point in time I was craving familiarity because it gave me a sense of comfort.
Hanging out with Rue also made me nostalgic for Quinn, because my friendship with him had been so effortless, where I could wholly and unapologetically be myself--different from my friendship with Rue. Because she and I were so different, I felt the need to shield her from my toxicity, and I found myself prioritizing her emotions over mine in attempts to eradicate myself. If that made sense.
"True, but there'll be free drinks for freshmen! Isn't that alone good enough of a reason to go? Pretty please, for me?"
I rolled my eyes. Rue was a couple years younger than me; a nerd who graduated high school early with all her scholarships for college. It did strike me as odd that such a person would wind up coming to a local university like here, but I didn't ask--she probably had her own circumstances. Sometimes the age difference bothered me because it made me feel like the need to become an older sister figure, maybe because she and Rose were around the same age bucket.
"Pleaseeeee--"
"God, fine, I'll go! Just stop whining!" I snapped, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. I immediately regretted lashing out.
But Rue just clapped her hands and laughed giddily. "Okay, yay! I'll let them know. This is going to be so much fun! I'm so happy!"
I knew I was going to regret saying yes, but my head was thumping, and I felt the need to do whatever necessary to extract myself from her presence for a little while. Lest I lose my mind.
"See you later, then," I said dismissively, walking away. God, I needed a smoke very badly, but first--coffee. My headache was turning into a migraine, and I needed to appease it very badly; caffeine often helped. I headed towards my favorite vending machine (it was my favorite because it was old and wonky, and sometimes spat out my coin, giving me a free drink). I used to joke with Quinn that whether I'd be able to get a free drink from the machine depended on the amount of good karma I was harnessing on a particular day, and I needed some good karma right about now.
Turns out the world was against me--the machine would just keep spitting out my coin without giving me the canned coffee I wanted. Frustrated, I kicked the damn machine. Why was nothing going right today?
"Finally shook off the mongrel, I see," Heath's smooth voice interjected. He was standing behind me--I knew even without turning around based on the soapy aroma that was permeating from him, damn my sensitive nose.
"What do you want now. I told you before, I don't want people seeing us together and getting the wrong idea."
"Or the right idea." I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. Sly bastard.
"Shut up. And isn't it kinda rude to call someone 'mongrel'? You don't even know Rue."
Heath shrugged and casually handed me a canned coffee that he pulled out from his work bag. I glared at him but took the drink as he said, "Was that her name?"
"She's in your class, too!"
"I don't recall. In fact, I don't keep tabs on anyone in that class other than you."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm honored." I took a swig of the coffee he gave me and felt immediate bliss and relief. Sighing, I closed my eyes. "Thanks for this, I guess. I desperately needed coffee."
He nodded and sipped his own. "I understand the crippling effects of caffeine dependency. Speaking of, your health is still not up to par since the night you passed out--are you sure you should be going out so late at night?"
It took me a moment to understand what he was referring to. "How did you know I'm going out? Were you eavesdropping on us? You creep."
"Not at all. I just happened to be nearby so I could give you the canned coffee... not my fault if neither of you noticed."
"Ugh. Look, I don't even want to go, okay? But I already gave Rue my word, and I'm going. One night out can't hurt. Plus, I'll take some Tylenol later before I head out."
"I still don't approve."
"You don't have the right to approve of my going out."
By this point, despite the tone of our conversation, we had naturally started walking towards his car together. Even though I made a fuss about people at school seeing us together, to be honest I had already given up--by now, people knew that we carpooled to and from school in recent days. I had eventually acquiesced to Heath's offers for a ride because riding public transportation or walking are both equally more tedious, and I needed to save my energy for homework and other bullshit.
"Hmm," was all Heath said as he casually leaned over to buckle me into the front seat.
"I'll be home before curfew," I commented mockingly.
He smirked. "Good girl. You better--unless you want me to punish you."
With those words I turned into a pool of liquid in my car seat. My desire for him flared hotter than ever. Must resist...
As he buckled me in, I felt his warm, addictive breath wash over my face, overwhelming my senses completely; and I couldn't hold it in anymore.
I leaned towards him to impose a peck on his cheek.
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I AM HERE TO COMMENCE ANGST VARRICK HOURS!
So Anni notices that Varrick had been acting weird all day, like he's just being more aggressive than usual, kinda jumpy and on edge, and he seems to be muttering to himself every once in a while.
Anni isn't sure what to think about it but she decides to take a walk and when she comes back, she can hear crashing and yelling coming from inside her cabin so she practically sprints up the stairs and yanks open the door to find Varrick in the middle of his room and its trashed. There's broken glass and papers everywhere, clothes are thrown across his room, there are pictures of her littered around his room, and there's even a hole in his wall from him punching it. Anni is obviously shocked and saddened to find Varrick just curled up into a ball, having bloody knuckles and he's just crying and muttering random things. So Anni slowly comes up to him and kneels down to ask whats going on but he just sandwiches her in a tight hug and sobs into her neck.
(The rest is up to you, i'm just looking for some good Angst and then a crumb of comfort! TYSM BTW!!! SEND ME MORE REQUESTS WHEN YOU ARE UP FOR IT!)
[ panicking. || simp party ]
Warnings; Varrick having a breakdown.
Tags; @insane-horror-movie-addict
A/N; Fuck Zalgo bru
Word count: 1,475
In the corner of her eye, Anni watched Varrick toss his knife angrily to the ground and stalk back into the garage. Anni shook her head and chewed on her thumbnail restlessly, her arms crossing as she let out an exasperated. She didn't know what the hell was going on with Varrick lately and it bothered her in wondering why her friend was acting the way he was. He was moody, more moody than usual, and he was taking to the bars almost every night. Anni knew that if she asked him outright that she wouldn't get an answer anywhere close to what she asked for.
Anni shook his head and got rid of the thoughts. Varrick was just acting like a whiney school girl going through a hell age of puberty. She needed to clear her head, to be completely honest, she wasn't at all in the mood for his antics.
Anni's hand gently combed through the growing brown strands that fell messily right over her shoulders. The tips of the hair were slightly jagged, but she never minded this. The wind blew against her, whisking against her skin and rustling the grass around her, she enjoyed the coolness if offered. Spring had begun now, it had come later than usual, the brisk and floral hints that had hinted in the air during summer no longer left any trace.
She stepped carefully over logs and through a thicket of bushes as she made way through the woodwork. Her eyes kept a lookout for what exactly she was looking for and finally, she stopped and stared at what stood before her. The white flowers bore their brightness into her eyes with their long, thin petals and yellow tint that airbrushed over the bud. They were living, breathing Georgian White Lilies and Anni had only seen them once in her lifetime. But never did she forget their beauty and the rarity that they held. Softly, she knelt down in the small bed of flowers and picked a couple of the large lilies from the dirt. Only nine were grown in the area and it was one of the rarest flowers.
Perhaps she would pick some for Varrick, so maybe he'd stop being such an ass.
— . — . —
Icy wind blowing from different directions.
Visible stars twinkling high in the night's sky,
competing to out-shine the full luminous moon. Towering trees swaying gently with the aid of the howling breeze. Huddled bushes gruffing as baby deers and innocent bunnies hastily mistake the flowering shrubs of daphnes as a safe haven. Anni had been outside longer than she'd expected, it surprised her.
She waltzed leisurely to her home, only to discover Varrick's body motionlessly lying on the bitter-cold ground, as the pupils of his eyes trembled. Anni's stunned orbs held a torturing stare-contest with the messed up cabin— shattered glass had been sprinkled all over the place, along with red droplets of blood that trailed all over the floor. The very same eyes that were once brimmed with endearing emotions such as love and care were now left being spiritless and dull— she recognized that look, Zalgo must have been haunting him again.
As she makes her way to Varrick, she notices a punctured hole into the wooden wall, and the bits of debris that were scattered alongside it. She managed to push past the piles of clothing that disorganized, and nearly tripped over his knocked down dresser— she constantly almost trips over things, and it shocked her how much mess he's caused in the short amount of time she had been gone. He trembled with sunken eyes and bruised fists, surrounded by pictures of her that were huddled incredibly close to his body.
"Varrick—?" She kneeled down, gently pushing a strand of hair out of his face, "What the hell is going on? Are you alright?" She felt several arrows piercing through her pounding heart - all carrying different emotions but in the same category of negativity.
Varrick's breathing was uneven, he had brought up his left arm and used it to cover his eyes limply before seemingly falling back into a feverish hallucinative state. Anni sighed a bit, observing the man as his chest moved up and down with his breathing, "Varrick? Hello—?" Anni looked down at him.
Anni pushed herself up higher on her knees, leaning over the man's body and reaching for the picture he had tossed aside as well as one of the strange papers that had slipped from him. The moment Anni's hand made contact with the picture she felt a hand grip her side, it startled her into trying to pull herself back to her original sitting position.
Anni wasn't able to, the hand gripped onto her clothes tightly and was then followed by swooping legs that kicked her knees out from under her. Varrick then used his momentum and his grip on her side to remove himself from under her before she hit the floor. In the blink of an eye, Varrick had flipped her under him and placed each knee beside her hips to pin her in place. One arm came down right beside Anni's head, whilst his other he used to swiftly lean down and press his forearm against her throat. Varrick panted slightly, even though he was clearly strong enough to pin her down it appeared like it took all of his strength.
Surprise wrapped within Anni's eyes as he stared up at her, pressed down against the floor, and felt the pressure of Varrick's weight against her throat as he used his arm to pin her further. "Varrick! Get off me, you idiot!" She was finally able to vocalize her thoughts, squirming under the glaring man.
"You won't get rid of me that easily, Zalgo." Varrick's voice seemed hazed with unknown emotions, almost as if his anger wasn't directed at Anni but someone else. He hadn't seemed to notice it was Anni he had been talking to. The hallucinations must have been getting bad.
Irritation grew within Anni, she felt the vein on her forehead throbbing slightly as she glared in annoyance at him. "You're the one sitting here like a sick child, now get off me, you idiot!" Anni reached up and pushed, about to grip onto his hair or collar to try and flip him off him. Before Anni's hand could come in contact with his clothing, Varrick seemed to take on a saddened expression and his eyes flickered about slightly. It was like he was trapped somewhere other than that room, he seemed slightly frightened of something. His strength slowly gave out, the arm he had placed behind her head collapsing and causing his body to fall over hers. "H-Hey!" Anni shouted, cheeks reddening slightly.
Varrick let out a pained mumble, his eyes had fluttered closed the moment he collapsed on top of her. "A–Anni? Oh my god.." Tears started to trickle from his eyes, as he mumbled into her skin, "You're alive. You're…alive. I was so worried— I-I thought…" Her look of annoyance quickly melted into worry once again, what was happening with him?
"I'm here, Varrick. I'm here." Anni reassured gently, threading her fingers in his hair to comfort his panicked state. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise." Suddenly, as if a dam had broken, he sobbed and hiccups. The sobs erupted from his body uncontrollably, as he pressed messy kisses alongside her skin in pure relief that she was okay— that she had been safe from Zalgo.
"He's bothering me again. He— won't stop. I'm afraid he's g—gonna—" He had been hyperventilating rapidly, he could barely breathe, "H—he might—"
"Deep breaths." Anni reminded him.
Varrick began to sob as he couldn't keep all his emotions in check. He had bottled up all his grief and did what he could to keep it locked up. He thought that he had come to terms with the thoughts that he wouldn't see any of his friends again, and the beloved woman that he had by his side. Her brown eyes, her amazing smile, and that warm kiss that always lit his fire flooded his mind uncontrollably. All because of Zalgo.
Anni grabbed him into a hug from behind, tightly keeping her arms wrapped around his chest. Varrick felt a few tears roll down his cheek, "I don't want you to die... I don't wanna be in this world without you."
"I'm alive, Varrick." Anni said calmly and quietly from underneath him, "Don't let the thought of what could have been let you think otherwise. Nothing is going to happen. I can handle myself." He had to stop thinking about his obvious thoughts and start thinking more practical thoughts. He knew that Anni was strong, she had been through a lot, and he knew she could take care of her own when it came down to it.
#simp party#simp party my beloved#anni my beloved#varrick and anni hours#i love how you requested this right after already traumatizing varrick with that other fic#poor Varrick
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In Which He Prepares Brunch
The oven door latched with a soft click and he straightened, surveying the stovetop, the pans and pots on the burners, the counters with the cutting boards marked with the juice from the fruit he’d cut and the butcher block surface dusted with traceries of flour and bits of pastry trimmed off to even out edges. The pastries were not a usual project, but this morning it felt right to make some even as he tended to more savory fare to accompany them. A proper brunch seemed right this morning, despite everything.
Perhaps because of everything.
“It smells good in here,” his commander’s voice said from the doorway. The red-headed woman stepped into the kitchen, glancing around and finding them alone. “When did you get back?”
“About an hour ago,” he said. “I stopped in the market before I came back. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Knowing how well whatever you brought back will serve morale? No, never.” She joined him at the stove, reaching over the pots and skillets he tended for the one of coffee set at the back to stay warm. Her glance in his direction held the very vaguest hint of concern. “What emergency sent your wife here to fetch you back at half past one in the morning? You didn’t have to come back so quickly.”
He frowned briefly, using a spatula and a firm hand to toss some sizzling greens in their pan. “What makes you think it was Seni?”
She favored him with a level look tempered by a wry smile. “There is a very particular flavor to Senithvia Dra’zar’s magic that I am more than well acquainted with, Tyr.” She filled a mug and then settled the coffee pot back into place. “Come on now. Are we going to do this dance?”
One corner of his mouth kicked into a grin as wry as hers. “That depends on you.”
She stepped away, sinking into one of the chairs at the table, one that creaked even under her relatively slight weight. Age and the temperatures were starting to wear on so much up here. So much would need replacing and repair if they were to stay for much longer, to make everything into a proper garrison. They both knew that—his commander better than most, since her contingent of Alliance forces was the most likely to remain on-station here even if the Crusade moved on.
She took a sip of coffee, her brow arching. “Does it?”
He shrugged and turned away, checking the hash. “It wasn’t Seni.”
“Then who? And why?”
“My nephew.”
It took a moment for her to catch his meaning, but he knew it had registered as soon as he heard her mug against the table, rattling slightly in a way that suggested she’d hastily set it down. The chair creaked as she leaned forward, almost but not quite rising. “Is everything—”
“Everything’s fine,” he soothed. “Honestly, they didn’t really even need me there, I think.”
“You wouldn’t have forgiven yourself if you hadn’t been.”
He stared down at the stove, at the array of cooking vessels and food he’d begun preparing. It was probably too much, but better too much than not enough. The urge to do it was half habit and half therapy. As bitter as some of the memories were, far more were good.
His eyes stung. “You’re right,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have.”
“Still, that doesn’t explain why you’re already back. Unless…?”
He laughed. “She told me to and some habits in that regard die hard. Orders are orders, right?”
“Everyone’s healthy?”
“She and the baby, yes,” he said, shaking his head. “Everyone else may be in some kind of altered state, but she said it was fine and I trust her to know. Told me not to borrow trouble when she shooed me off. I was glad to have been there, though.”
“I’m certain she was, too. You’re as much her brother as her actual brothers.”
Tyr laughed quietly, eyes stinging, but he nodded. “I suppose you’re right. She’s seemed to collect those over the years.”
“Tyr, if you want to—”
“No,” he said gently, reaching for the coffee pot to pour himself a mug. “No, Commander. She’s right, my place is here right now. I have a job to do until you and the Crusade find someone who can do it better or until I’m actuallyneeded back there. They know where to find me, how to find me. I write when I can.”
“Did you leave them breakfast, too?”
He barked another laugh, reaching up to wipe the tears from his eyes.
“What do you think?”
In answer to that, she simply smiled.
#Tyrvarden Kindaer Grimstryke#tales from the front#Argent Crusade#Jude Auroran#Mention: Wyn Ilthyrii#Mention: Senithvia Dra’zar#Northrend#World of Warcraft#Mention: Juden Riverwind#Wyrmrest Accord#RP#fiction#WrA#WoW#Resolute Blades#Age of Blood#Retribution of Arathor
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He inhaled while he straddled Raum, his breathing heavy, full of needs. He slid his fingers through the blond locks of his hair, slightly tugging. He hummed, observed his features with a certain softness. There was a little smirk curling his lips. "My mom was right when she told me you’d hopefully grow up prettier than the little ugly duck you were before."
Of course he was provoking him. He traced the length of his nose with his index. "I have always loved your singular beauty." Oliver paused, cocked his head aside. He nuzzled into Raum’s neck and chuckled, before he bit him almost violently. "’Cause your ugliness was always so attractive to me."
@distopea
His hands carved their way up the bare skin of Oliver’s thighs, fingers splayed and digging greedily into the flesh, like he could meld them together there at the point of contact, however fleeting the encounter may be. Still, a scoff had broken free from his throat at the other man’s words. The backhanded insult would usually skim over him with ease – words like ugly and pretty were meaningless in the face of his own self-esteem. But perhaps with Oliver they held a little more weight, as Raum found himself morbidly curious of his old friend’s perception of him, and how it had likely changed so drastically with time.
“I’m sure Freud would have a field day with you, bringing up your mother at a time like this.” As if to prove his point, Raum grasped at Oliver’s rear to drag him closer, further onto his lap and into his arms. Attention was caught on his face, tracking the tilt of his lips and the quickness of his breath. Raum’s gaze unfocused slightly when Oliver tugged at the strands of his hair, a soft hiss escaping his teeth. The sensation sent a pleasant tingle down the back of his neck.
“You know… I used to hate her – for taking you home at the end of the day. She must have seen it back then, all of that ugliness on the inside, hm? What do you think?” His nose had wrinkled with distaste of the memory, but his face relaxed when Oliver touched it. Blue eyes flared with pleasure at the compliment bestowed to him, vindicated, more than he thought he might be, by the satisfaction it gave him, by its rarity coming from Oliver’s mouth. Raum tilted his head against Oliver’s, cheek to cheek, for a moment, and his skin prickled, somehow anticipating what was to come. There was no way Oliver would say such a thing without – Ah, there it was.
A compelling kind of ugliness, then.
Raum’s neck curved back under the influence of Oliver’s teeth; careless and devoted. Truth be told, he indulged in the bitterness laced through Oliver’s voice almost more than the softness that poured from his eyes. Yes, this was better. Somehow, it was far more palatable for Raum’s name to be a curse on Oliver’s lips than a blessing. Both beautiful and terrible – but something to behold nonetheless. Something to be desired.
“Oh? Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” he murmured in return. Teeth sunk into his lower lip to contain a grin, and Raum collapsed onto the bed on his back. Suddenly he felt like he had to know. All of the thoughts Oliver had about him that he kept hidden, the good and the bad. He met the other man’s eyes, unwavering while he allowed a hand to drift down his own body, touching, sensuous, self-indulgent. Am I hideous? Do I excite you? Do you think of me, like I think of you?
“But I’ll oblige you – I’m listening.”
#distopea#ask#( faciam ut mei memineris ; raum & oliver )#v: undercover#suggestive cw#i think at this point it's impossible for me to deny that raum likes to be both worshipped and degraded#and here oliver is pressing both buttons at the same time dfkjgndkfg#but only a little. he really said MORE
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Field Notes Revisited
Putting pen to paper.
A brief note before we begin. This may be a slightly shorter piece today due to factors away from the blog but nevertheless, I always think it is important that I stick to the regularly scheduled programming of my writing and we shall see how we get on this evening.
There are a few items that I always have with me and I don’t only mean ones that I take out into the world with me but also the ones that I take with me around my apartment. There is perhaps no item that is by my side more than a Field Notes notebook. I have written before about my adoration for Field Notes as a company and the notebooks that they put out and that love for the Chicago based stationary provider only continues to grow and grow. The Field Notes notebooks truly are my constant companions. I always have two on the go, one for my everyday notes and another that usually lives on my pillow as I use it as my journal. They both mean the world to me and I get a great deal from them, using them to record what I need to do yes but also random thoughts, or things that I have over heard, lists of all sorts of varieties and the odd sketch that doesn’t resemble its subject in the slightest. I like having something that is always with me and that I use all of the time. Yes, I realise that phones occupy that space too but even though there is a great deal of worth that accompanies them, its not quite the same. Its not the same because a phone doesn’t have that same quality that a notebook does. There are a lot of words that you could use to describe that quality, for me (and this will come as no surprise) it is a hygge feeling. The actual act of writing in my notebook, of going through the pages and seeing what else I have put down is one that I get a lot from. It is calming, to have my thoughts written down and the act of writing them allows a space to breathe, even if they may not make too much sense later.
I started a new Field Notes notebook this afternoon after spending about six weeks with the last one. Its always a little bitter sweet when I transition to a new notebook. Its exciting because I get to have a new Field Notes design along with me and read the accompanying back page notes that the creators have put in, in today’s case this includes a map of Lake Michigan, and also it is a blank canvas that I am about to fill up with my journeys and day to day thoughts. I do though get accustomed to using the notebook that goes before and so moving on from it as silly as it may sound can be a little sad for a moment. The notebook that is being put into the archives today went with me on two of my trips over the past summer and is filled with planning for those trips and oh so many train times. As I keep saying, I get so much from using the Field Notes notebooks and yes, I could use any book but really, its Field Notes for me. I have found something that works, something that feels special to me and that I value and I’m keeping them by my side. Each notebook has its own personality which draws on from what is going on around me as I write in it and they are all documents of my life that I do enjoy going back over and revisiting. Having a staple in your everyday as an anchor, it is of great value I think particularly when you’re in a time of uncertainty so yet again, the Field Notes have come into their own.
-Jake, a man breathing in and out, 04/09/2022
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The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)
Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin.
A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male)
Word Count: 5.3k
MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist
——————————————————
If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.
It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.
Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.
... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.
“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.
“He was just being nice.”
“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”
I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.
“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.
Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”
“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.
“Stop! It’s not like that!”
“Sure it’s not.”
Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.
“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.
I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.
Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.
“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”
But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.
“Okay – good.”
My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.
“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”
The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.
“You said you didn’t mind!”
In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”
When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.
As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.
“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.
“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.
The man beside him, however, was quick to question.
“Who’s this?”
As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.
“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.
“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.
I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.
“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”
“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.
There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.
“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.
Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.
“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”
With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.
“Ooh, is there a party?”
Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.
“No, it’s nothing.”
It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.
“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”
And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.
“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”
My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.
“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”
His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.
“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.
But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.
“Uhh...”
“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”
Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.
“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).
“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.
The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.
Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”
It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.
“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“I’m very motivated?”
Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”
I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.
“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.
Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”
But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.
I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.
With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”
Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.
Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.
Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.
Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.
“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.
I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.
“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”
I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.
“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”
Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.
Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”
“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”
The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.
“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.
Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”
It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.
I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.
Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.
“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”
Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.
“Double promise. Promise squared.”
“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”
I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.
“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”
I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.
“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”
“For what?” he also said through laughter.
“I— don’t know.”
Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.
Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”
So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.
Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.
I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.
——————————————————
There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.
That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.
No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.
“So... Bunny.”
“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.
“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.
“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”
“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”
But that time, it was me who issued the warning.
“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”
“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”
The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.
Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”
He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”
“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.
“She’s a virgin.”
Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.
“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.
But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”
It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.
“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”
“Cut it out.”
Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”
“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”
The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.
“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”
“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”
“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”
I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.
But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.
A fucking tease.
“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.
“Are you done?”
As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.
“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”
I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.
“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.
“Goodnight!”
Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.
But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.
Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.
As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.
Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.
“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”
I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.
It was a set of pictures.
Pictures of her.
“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”
How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.
I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.
They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.
“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”
As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.
I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.
But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.
But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.
Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.
Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.
I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.
That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.
I wanted it. I wanted her.
My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.
If I stole it from her, would it be mine?
Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?
If I ruined her, would she be mine?
I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.
She would be mine.
That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.
She would be mine.
The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.
She was already mine.
——————————————————
| Part Four |
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid series#reid series#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds smut#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid slow burn#spencer reid x reader#reid x reader#spencer x reader#professor spencer reid#prof spencer reid#professor reid#prof reid#tbatb#dr spencer reid#dr reid
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I don't know if you've done this before :( but could you maybe write about the Obey me brothers after an argument with MC?? Like a fight make up kind of situation??
400 years later.....
Well, maybe not that long, but certainly long enough. I'm sorry >.<. Hope this doesn't put you off on sending other things because I did like doing this one!
Obey me Brothers + MC After a Fight
Lucifer
It was late into the evening when you heard the knock at your door. Before you could ask who it was, you heard the even timber of Lucifer’s voice behind the door. “[Y/N], it’s me. May I come in?” There was a long pause than usual between his introduction and question, seeming to debate asking, or your response, before he asked it.
To be honest, he had a right to be cautious because you weren’t sure what your answer would be before you opened your mouth. “Yes. Come in.”
The heavy door opened and Lucifer stepped in. Prim and as well stationed as ever, but the confidence normally in his face diminished just the slightest. “I…came to apologize.” The words seem to want to drag out of his throat. Like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to say. Not the best start for an apology.
“You didn’t have to treat me that way.” You tell him. Telling you like a child in front of everyone. Getting your hand smacked for something you didn’t even do. No coming to give some lack luster, dutiful apology he doesn’t mean. “And don’t say your sorry if you’re not.”
“I am sorry.” Lucifer insisted, before he took a deep breath and tried to relax. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that in front of everyone. I was upset, and took it out on you. Sometimes you’re an easy target because I know you’ll care for me no matter what I do. We always hurt most the ones we love.” Your cheeks tint at the comment. Damn him and his suave words.
The demon makes the effort to cross the threshold and take your hands. “Please know that I am truly sorry for my behavior. I will strive to never make you feel foolish, or less than, again. My mission in life now is to show you how much more than I find you over everyone else.”
You roll your eyes a little at the comment. “Let’s not get carried away. You’re starting to sound like Asmo.”
You giggle when Lucifer gave a forced, disgusted shutter. He then lifted your hands to his lips and gave them a kiss. “Am I forgiven?” He asked.
“I suppose.” Annoyingly, he was right. You would always care for, and love him, so it was hard to stay mad at him for long.
“Good,” he said, with his usual prideful smile, “I’m glad. I do plan to still make it up to you though. So make no plans for Saturday.”
“Will do.” You agreed. Giving him a tiny salute. He then left to let you finish getting ready for bed. Ideas of how he’d ‘make it up to you’ swirling in your head.
Mammon
There was a sharp rap at your door that rung out clear in your room over your headphones. You were curious who was here at this hour, but got up to go answer the door before the tried again.
You open the door and are immediately confronted with a bundle of flowers being shoved in your face. Almost to the point of the blooms bursting against your cheeks. You stagger, at the afront of color, and the bouquet is pulled back slightly to reveal Mammon behind them. “I…bought you these flowers. To say I’m sorry.” The more he talked the more his voice trailed off. His normally confidence draining like the color from his face.
“Isn’t it rather cliché to buy someone flowers to apologize?”
Mammon flinched at your criticism. “I didn’t know what else to do. If you don’t like them I’ll buy you something else. Anything you want! Just please…talk to me.” Please forgive me, was what he was really saying.
You look at the demon for a moment. His defeated stance not fitting into his character at all. Ironic, since the fight was about Mammon being too full of himself. Confidence was one thing, but ever now and then it was too much, and when you tried to talk to him about it he turned on you. He had immediately regretted it, but you refused to talk to him for several days after to cool off.
Apparently, that was the worse punishment he could think of.
“You don’t need to buy me anything Mammon. I’ve already forgiven you.”
“Really??” He asked. Seeming unsure of what he’d heard or that he could trust you.
“Really.” You repeat, and immediate find yourself in his arms. Your flowers falling to the floor as he hugged you.
“Thank you [Y/N]! I’ll never do anything stupid like that again! I promise!”
“Well now, let’s not make promises we can’t keep.” You tease. Patting his back. “We all make mistakes Mammon. I’ll be angry with you sometimes, but I generally forgive you. How can I stay mad at my ‘First Man’ for long?” His hold on you tightened a little. It lingered for a moment longer before he let you go.
“Yeah. Right. Don’t you forget it.”
Levi
You were getting ready to head downstairs when there was a knock at your door. It was a surprise, since you were going down to meet everyone. So who was up here now? You open the door and find everyone’s favorite otaku, out of his hole and in front of your door, staring at you.
“Y-Y-You…You weren’t answering my texts.” Levi finally got out.
“That should have been a hint.” You tell him. Perhaps a bit more curt than need be.
The bluenette straightened in alarm before his shoulder slumped again. “I know. I’m sorry! But I couldn’t stand the thought of you being mad at me! I know I can get a little…-“crazy?” You interjected –“excited about my games and stuff, but I really didn’t mean to snap at you!”
The two of you had been playing some new quest game that was all the rage apparently on the deep otaku net. Supposedly it was unbeatable. No one had actually ever seen the final boss ending yet. Which of course meant Levi was determined to be the first. Confident that his eons of experience wouldn’t lead him astray.
Sadly, the legends of the unbeatable game were true. And after hour after hour of crushing defeat Levi snapped and took it out on you. He’s locked himself in his room after. Ashamed, and upset that he hurt you; if his texts were anything to go off of.
“I threw the game away and I’ll never play it again. I promise! I’ll never go all rage beast mode on you again as long as I live! Just please forgive me and talk to me again!”
“Oh Levi, it’s not that serious.” You insist as you reach out your hand to his clasped ones in front of you. Reassuring him. “We all get a little crazy when things don’t go our way. I forgive you. In the future lets try to play games that are a little less….taxing on our relationship, if we can manage.”
“R-R-R! Relationship!” Levi stammered. Turning bright red in front of you, which made you giggle. You lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Really frying his circuits. Maybe it was a little bit out of you missing Levi when you were fighting. And maybe it was also his ‘punishment’ for the fight as well.
Satan
Tucking into your homework for the evening, you look up from your desk when there was a knock at the door. It was sharp, to the point. You immediately knew who it was, and debated not answering. However, that would be rude and a level of pettiness not even you could manage.
“Hello Satan,” you greet when you open the door. Correct in guessing who was there. “How can I help you?”
The blonde seemed wounded by your formality, usually such a champion of manners. But he was a clever man and knew you were doing it to put some distance between you. “I came to apologize.”
“As you should.” Ok. Maybe you were a little pettier than you like to admit.
“You’re right, and I should have been here sooner. I was just….embarrassed.” Satan ran his fingers through his hair. “He just makes me so angry sometimes! Being so high and mighty. Bossing us around. I try to keep it under control but….I can’t.” Given he is the Avatar of Wrath, it’s a wonder he made any effort to keep his rage in check. Everyone says he was getting better though. Even his relationship with Lucifer was getting better; even with this spat. “It pains me more than I can tell you to know that I upset you in the process. Turning on you like that like an idiot when you were only trying to help. It was so stupid.”
“It wasn’t very like you.” You admit, and Satan gave a single, bitter scoff.
“Maybe not now. Maybe with you.” Cautiously he reached out his hand to take yours in a gentle hold. “But I am sorry. Please know that I’ll strive to not let my anger get the better of me again.”
“I’m sure you will.” You said. Squeezing his hand back. “And, I forgive you. I should know by now not to get involved with any of your fights. But I care about you all so much.”
“But you care about me most, yes?” He asked with a soft smile. To which you giggle and kiss his cheek.
“Yes. I care for you most.”
Asmo
It was late afternoon when you heard the knock at your door. Typically, everyone was off doing their own activities at this hour, so it was a surprise to have someone looking for you. You open the door cheerfully at first, but then frowned. “Oh. Hello Asmo.”
“Hello [Y/N]-kun.” Asmo greeted brightly, but you could tell it was forced. “I…wanted to come see you. To apologize. For acting so ugly earlier.”
It’s not often that Asmo lost his temper. He usually left that to his silly, older brothers. Rising above in dignified beauty, as he liked to put it. But every now and then it got the best of him, and his tongue was sharper than any knife in the draw when he got that way.
“What you said really hurt Asmo.”
“I know,” he admitted frowning. “I haven’t been able to sleep all night thinking about it. Look at these bags!” You frown as he pointed to his under eyes, and he realized he was being selfish again. “I’m sorry I said such awful things the other day. I don’t have an excuse or fix for it. Except to say that I’m sorry, and I hope you forgive me.”
You let out a soft sigh at his words. He did seem sincere. It was a little odd to see Asmo so down. “Alright, I forgive you.” The demon immediately perked up with his usual smile and took your hands in his.
“Thank you [Y/N]! Let me take you out shopping, as a further apology. I’ll buy you anything you like!”
“So we’ve resorted to bribery now?” Asmo giggled at your joke and you nod. “I’ll right. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get out. Anything I want?” Asmo nodded and made some suggestions on what you could spend his money on as you walked. Inevitably ending up on lingerie, which earned him a smack.
Beel
You had just gotten back from class when you heard the knock at the door. It startled you. You had only just gotten back a moment ago, so what remarkably good timing.
You finish taking off your uniform jacket before you open the door. Startled, yet again, to find Beel behind it. “Beel?”
“Hi [Y/N].”
An awkward silence filled the space, one that hadn’t been there since you first arrived in the Devildom, before you spoke. “I uh…was going to change. I just got back from class.”
“I know. I waited for you to come back.” The red head confessed. Nervously scratching the back of his head. “I wanted…to talk. I wanted to apologize.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You reply. Now nervously scratching the back of your head as well. “If anything I should apologize.”
Beel was so sweet and kind. But sometimes, his ‘space cadet ways’ over anything that didn’t involve food or fitness was very hard to deal with. He’d forgotten you were supposed to meet, yet again, so when he showed up an hour late for your date yesterday you had given him an ear full. He’d been hurt, but took it. Now you just felt bad, like you had kicked a puppy, with it over.
“But I should have remembered. It’s not fair that I forgot when we were supposed to meet. Again.” He looked upset with himself and fidgeted with his hands. “I really am sorry I forgot. I don’t want you to think you’re not important or anything. I’m just dumb.”
“You’re not dumb!” You scold Beel. Not accepting him putting himself down like that. “Can’t we just agree that we’re both at fault. You should have remembered, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you either. Can’t we just….make up? I hate fighting with you.”
Beel smiled softly and leaned forward to give you a hug. “I hate fighting too. I think I’ll be ok if we both take blame. That seems fair.” He let you go and stepped back. Seeming back to his usual, easy going self already. “Do you want to do a make up date? If you’re free. I can take you to Madam Scream’s or we can go get Fire Iceies.”
You giggle and nod. “Sure. That would be wonderful.”
Belphie
It was so late at night when you heard the knock at your door that, initially, you thought you dreamt it.
Hearing it again, you woke up and threw on your robe over your pjs to go answer the door. Groggy, and a little concerned as to who could be here at this hour. Something must be wrong.
“Belphie?” You question in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He said. Remarkably less groggy than you were for a change. “I had to see you.”
“In the middle of the night?” You question. Getting more alert and annoyed at being woken up by him.
“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. Imagine that.” His fingers twirl at his long bangs while he looked down at the floor. “I came to apologize.”
“Apologize?” You repeat. Shocked, more than anything, that he was here to apologize. Not that he did deserve an apology to you, you just didn’t think he’d do it.
“Yes. To apologize. Can we make up now?”
“That’s it??” You remark after his ‘apology’. “You say you’re sorry like that and I’m just supposed to forgive you?”
“Yes. That’s how apologies work.”
“No it isn’t!” You snap. Louder than you wanted to with the late hour. You set your teeth and wheeze through them. You don’t want to start another fight. “You apologize because you feel bad about something and want to make it up to the person. It has to be sincere.”
“I am being sincere.” Belphie insisted. “This is sincere as I get.”
“Well it certainly doesn’t feel like it.” You reply. Crossing your arms.
It was Belphie’s turn to sigh at you. “Look. I’m not like Asmo or the others who are great with words. I came to apologize, and that’s it. I was wrong and I wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”
“Why do you even want to say your sorry? If you don’t sound like you mean it.”
“Because I hate you being angry with me.” You blink in surprise at Belphie’s confession, and he sighed again. “I hate it. I hate not talking to you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me, but if you hate me, I can’t stand it. So, I came to apologize. To do anything so you wouldn’t hate me anymore.”
You uncross your arms and scrunch your lips a little bit. “That’s a better apology.” He looked back up at you with a questioning look. Seeming surprised that he had ‘done good’. “And, I don’t hate you. Just because I’m angry with you, for good reason, doesn’t mean I hate you. I could never hate you.”
The demon smiled softly. His expression tired, but hopeful. “Thanks [Y/N].”
“Now, we need to get back to bed. It is the middle of the night after all. And we have school.”
“Ok.” Belphie agreed. Then stepped into your room and made way to your bed.
“In your own room mister!”
#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#obey me#obey me beelzebub#obey me mammon#obey me asmodeus#obey me satan#obey me belphie#obey me beel#obey me leviathan#obey me lucifer#obey me levi#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me levi x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me asmo#obey me asmo x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me belpie x reader#lucifer#leviathan#mammon#satan#asmodeous#beelzebub#belphie#obey me imagines#obey me scenarios#imagine#scenarios
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Thank you @eldritch-and-tired for commissioning this lil’ /Reader piece of @megalommi‘s Sans, Baggs. I will ALWAYS be a simp for this sexyman. Enjoy!!
Tw: injections, unwilling hypnosis/mind control
...
You giggled.
The light was so pretty. Swirling, undulating, cyan and magenta warping and shifting in and out of one another in an endless hypnotising rhythm. It made you think of a funfair... spirals everywhere, from the tops of the stalls to the decorations on the rides, to the signs leading you around to those huge lollipops that tasted tooth-meltingly sweet. Happy memories, carefree, far away and non-solid but still wonderful. What were you doing? You couldn’t remember anything. You liked blue and purple, they were everywhere, all around you, such pretty colours.
Pretty, pretty...
“... there we go. easy now.”
... You didn’t realise he was even there until he (somewhat cautiously?) spoke. Your senses were just colours. The voice was odd and a bit disembodied at first but slowly, slowly, you became aware of its source- a face hovering just over you. The awareness spread to your body, too... you were bent at an odd angle with your feet just barely lifted off the floor, your back flat on a rather uncomfortable table, gravity pulling your hair and cheeks. And he... he was just a few inches over you, pinning you by one of your wrists.
...
A tight and tense, cutting smile, clear signs of stress around his face and shoulders making it obvious that this was the smile of a man on the edge and not one of any particular joy. Deep sockets, so wide they looked borderline painful, glaring down at you with so much intensity...
... You could feel his body heat. And his breath against your face. Your heartbeat, your slightly itchy nose, how tight he was holding your wrist.
“... Mh... Huh?” You said, ever-so articulately, vision spinning in the same direction as the swirls emanating from his left socket. A similar way to how the world rocked when you were dizzy... except for you, it never righted itself. It just kept spinning and spinning and spinning. Everything was so bright, as you fell under a pleasant fuzzy sensation burrowed into your chest and mind, blanketing your thoughts as if you were just in the middle of a nice dream where nothing much mattered.
“shh...”
When he gently closed his gloved fingers around something you had gripped in your pinned hand, you put up no fuss, loosening your hold and allowing him to take it... when did you pick up a scalpel? What an odd thing to have. The back of your head hurt and your knuckles felt the telltale aches of having been tense a few moments ago, even though they were now just an unwound coil like the rest of you.
... Dr. Baggs let out a long slow, breath. You could feel it against your nose and neck, he was that close... his mouth open barely a crack, the magenta hue of his tongue glinting against his fangs.
“... alright.” He said, voice silky, gentle on your thrumming ears and head, sockets easing around the edges as he calmed down. The bluish shadows of sleep deprivation under them became more apparent as the tension in the room, face and posture waned. “that’s better.”
... Yeah. You thought, relaxed and calm. It is.
... He gave you the bare minimum of personal space, leaning back and helping you to sit, lifting you with the perfect combination of gentle but firm as if he knew you’d immediately feel so dizzy when you became upright. Your hands moved up and held onto his shoulders to steady yourself- the fabric of his lab coat was surprisingly soft, it was very nice to touch.
... He was so close. Supportive but strict hands on your elbows, your knees on either side of him, he smelled like... the artificial flavouring they added candy that just wasn’t quite natural. And a specific, scented brand of antiseptic; clean and sterile and prepared.
“... well.” He hummed, reaching out of sight for something with one hand. Your forehead would bump his collarbone if you leant forward any more. His voice was so soothing and calming, especially since you were only a few inches from his clavicle... you were getting pretty close to shutting your eyes at this point, but a prick in your arm kept you from completely nodding off- you barely noticed it, too busy studying the aesthetically pleasing purple trim to his coat and enjoying the funny fuzzy sensation in your chest and temples. Oh, he suddenly had a full syringe in his hand that he was putting a cap on... where did he get that?
“i knew from the start you’d be uncooperative, but... not that kind of uncooperative.”
He held something up to your face. You opened your mouth, (wait, why am I opening my mouth...) and he quickly placed it on your tongue. You swallowed, again, without knowing why... it was like your body was following a list of instructions that you couldn’t see or hear. Someone else had taken the wheel; tugging the right strings to make the right parts of you move when they were needed.
... You didn’t think about it much. No panic, no confusion, no considering the implications. The thoughts were disconnected... just ships in the night, sailing by your muffled brain. All you could really think about was how whatever he’d given you was very strange and bitter and ew, you cringed, an odd acrid taste lingering in the back of your throat.
... Another prick in your arm. That’s weird, he keeps pricking me. Oh well. This time, you looked just in time to see him removing a now-empty syringe; he wiped where he’d poked your forearm with something very cold, then placed a little circular red band-aid over it.
...
There were six other band-aids on that forearm. Two green, three navy, one black... and now the red one.
Hm... I feel like I should be alarmed by that...
Again, all you could think about was how nice you felt right now. Dizzy, warm, safe. Like you’d had a little too much to drink, but now you were laying out in the sun with your friends... I miss the sun...
“most of my ‘patients’ are at least... consistent.” Baggs hummed, continuining to hold you carefully by the elbows, predicting your post-jab swaying. He didn’t seem to realise he was talking aloud, just a scientist observing his experiment, and you weren’t really paying enough attention to what he was actually saying- too many words to process, boooring. “uncooperative awake, uncooperative under. you’re always displaying aggression toward me... and yet as soon as you have no control, there’s an obediency so immediate it’s borderline subconscious. rather fascinating.”
Instead, you...
“... Sexy voice.”
...
...
“... what?”
Apparently, that was enough to finally break him out of his thoughts. You glanced up at Baggs’ face, still only a few inches away, you kept forgetting where things were around you... the cushion around your soul never wavered but for a moment there was a little blip in the swirls. A slight interruption.
“Mmmhm.”
...
... His expression sort of... well, ‘melted’ was the wrong word. It was more akin to the sun peeking out from between two clouds. The detached, observational, scientific air to him thinned and began to evaporate... revealing something a little more warm.
The razor and unfriendly edges of his smile were rounding into something organic. Perhaps even, daresay, resembling forward.
“my.” He purred. “how forward of you.”
“S’very nice. Very smooth...” Your tongue felt... eh. And your arm, where he’d poked you, was starting to itch. “And you have a nice face too... handsome man. I think so.”
...
His smile started growing even more, and he leaned back an inch or two as if to look at all of you and make sure you were really the same person he’d brought into this examination room less than an hour ago. “... oh really?”
“Yeah...” ... Your hands had been just holding onto his coat... but, spurred on by your sudden drunken confidence, you properly looped them around his neck.
... He blinked, but he only let himself appear taken aback for a moment or two. Despite how ominously his magenta eyelights glowed in his dark, shadowed sockets... you could tell he was enjoying himself, and this sudden turn of events. “i’m flattered.”
You laid your head on his chest. It was getting kinda hard to stay upright.
... Your nose scrunched.
“Funky smell, though.”
That was enough to get an actual laugh out of him- albeit shortlived, his skull cocking like a curious mirthful bird. “are you... genuinely telling me that i smell, darling?”
“Yeah. Because it’s true. You’re gremlin.”
“i’m... gremlin?”
“Mhm.”
“stars. i wish i could tell pap about this.”
Your body shifted, enough to make you lightly squeak- things were spinning so much that it took you a minute to realise Baggs had picked you up, an arm hooked under your legs and another around your back.
“you’re all done for the day, pet.” His eyelights had become a thrumming, almost amethyst colour as he looked at you, a far gentler shade of purple than his previous headache-inducing magenta. You weren’t sure what’d caused that but you weren’t complaining. You weren’t sure what’d caused him to carry you either, considering he usually just brought someone to collect his ‘patients’ for him... but, again, not complaining. “it’s time to get back to your room.”
“I feel funny.” You mumbled.
“that’s normal.”
He started walking. The halls all looked the same, as he moved through them, blending into one another... white and sterile, a few doors dotted inbetween if you were lucky but mostly just the exact same tiles and patterns and lack of anything that would clue you into the fact that people had actually (at some point) existed in this area.
“Hm... is this where you work...?”
A little chuckle. He was sounding further and further away. “yes. this is my job, dear.”
“It’s so g... ug-ly.”
“oh? you think so?” Baggs’ tone had become... light? Perhaps a little teasing.
“Jus... put up some nice posters, or something.” Your head was so heavy. Since when was it this heavy? You had to rest it against his chest, feeling that nice fabric against your cheek, hearing an equally nice humming sound from inside his ribcage. “Paint the walls. It’s so... white. Clini... ...clinicic... Calic...”
“clinical?”
“... Yeah.Tthat.”
A gloved phalange touched your arm. It was probably an attempt at a comforting gesture- stroking the skin. “good to know. i’ll make sure to pass that eloquent advice along to the decorating team.”
“Good.”
He brought you to a cell-like room. It was... vaguely familiar? A bed with one pillow, thin white sheets... some strange posters and a window with bars over it. You felt like you’d spent a long time in there, but it was impossible to think straight enough to actually muster up any memories.
Baggs laid you down on the bed, slowly, handling you like you’d fall apart at any moment. You made a little noise- it wasn’t a very soft bed... but it was good enough. And your body felt so strange and tired that any soft surface honestly was nice enough to lay down on forever.
“comfy?” He asked. Since when did he inquire if you were comfy?
“M... no. S’whatever.”
...
You peeked at him, crouched by your bed... and you reached out, pressing your inexplicably heavy finger against the top of his nasal cavity in a booping motion. You mumbled a little victorious “Silly skeleton.”
...
He took your hand in his gloved one, gently, before it could go limp and flop down. You couldn’t really make out his expression at this point.
“don’t tell the other subjects...” He murmured... he sounded amused, at least. “but i think you’ve become my favourite.”
“Course.” You shut your eyes. “I’m... m’amazing.”
“... yes. course.”
A feeling, like a kiss on your hand, before he placed it by your side.
“... go to sleep.”
...
And just like that, your body obeyed him before your head could even process what he’d said, and you were asleep.
#commissions#megalosomnia#baggs sans#not my sans#but damn#i wish i was his [pensive emoji]#i fuckin LOVE writing hypnosis if you couldnt tell hfsdkjf
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