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blackjackkent · 4 months

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The city is hovering on the edge between summer and autumn, and the night has just the slightest hint of a chill on the air as Hector climbs the stairs to the balcony of the Singing Lute Inn, where Karlach told him to meet her.

She's already seated at the table; he can see her fidgeting nervously as he approaches, and her head snaps up, startled, at the sound of his footsteps. Then the nerves are wiped from her face as she grins brightly.

"Hi. Hi! You made it!" she says eagerly. Leaning forward, she pushes back the chair next to her at the table; her eyes run over him from head to foot, drinking in the sight of him in this place so far from camp or combat. "You look nice," she murmurs.

Hector has been nothing but excited to come out and spend this time with her, ever since she suggested the idea - but now, to his own surprise, he feels a pleasantly warm, bashful feeling settle into his chest and realizes he is blushing a little.

Their relationship has been rather backwards and jumbled, he reflects. Months of hoping, wishing, pining after someone he could not even touch, let alone have... and then the collapse, barely over the course of a day, into passionate love - which was new enough for him, when it happened. This, a more traditional romantic moment, is perhaps even more unfamiliar to him now. But unlike so many of the things he has faced that were new and terrifying... this is new and joyful, because it is with her. He is safe, with her eyes on him, no matter what.

"So do you," he murmurs, looking back appreciatively, and he is gratified to see a similar dark flush rise in her cheeks as well at the compliment.

"Thank you," she answers with a bright smile. Shifting nervously in her seat, she picks up the menu hastily and peruses it with an intense studiousness.

"Hmm. Baldurian seafood stew. No thank you..." She peers at him over the top of the sheet. "What do you think you'll have?"

He is conscious of the surreal feeling that they are performing a play for each other, each of them trying to sort out what "acting normal" entails, with a little warm thrill as they successfully hit each beat in the scene. "The grilled rothe ribs sound good," he says with a slight smile.

She grins with an air of relief. "Just what I had in mind," she agrees. She waves eagerly at the innkeeper, a broad and rather surly orc gentleman. "Two of the rothe ribs, please," she says firmly. "And two glasses of..." She pauses, looks questioningly at Hector.

"Wine," Hector puts in, pointing at the item on the menu.

"And two glasses of wine," Karlach finishes, and nods with satisfaction.

As the bartender stalks off, she leans forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. Her eyes narrow, taking on a playful air as she starts to relax into the moment.

"So... you're an adventurer, right? How's that going?"

Hector grins, mildly bemused. "You've been by my side for a lot of it, you know," he points out.

She gives him an gentle nudge in the shoulder. "I know, but this is our *first date*, remember?" she says conspiratorially. "Tonight, you're a mystery to me."

His eyebrows lift in understanding, and he opens his mouth to try and answer in kind, continue the conceit of them being strangers to each other... but then he stops, and grins sheepishly. He's neither actor, liar, nor orator at the best of times, and if he is honest, he is finding the way she is looking at him... distracting.

"I'm not sure I can pretend I don't already love you," he says ruefully.

She hesitates, then laughs, shaking her head. "It's all I can do to keep my hands to myself anyway," she answers, and snorts softly. "We're terrible at this."

He reaches out, puts a hand on hers on the table, grinning at her slight discomfiture. "Want to get out of here?" he says teasingly.

Her eyes widen and her face flashes through a mix of eagerness and determination in rapid succession. "No! ...Yes-- No. We came to have a nice date, and that's what we're going to do." She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him with a stubborn smirk. "Go on. Date me. I dare you."

Hector laughs softly. "You're right. So... erm... where did you grow up?" he tries, after a moment's thought, trying to determine what he might ask her if he had never met her before, if the scent and warmth of her were still things he had yet to experience. This is still not his strong suit - but he will make the effort if it will make her happy.

She brightens up excitedly and settles back into the moment with only a little awkwardness.

"Right here in Baldur's Gate, more or less," she says, gesturing out to the view of the city below them. "My folks are long gone now. But they raised me in the Outer City. Dad was a porter in town, mum did laundry." She smiles nostalgically. "Still think of her when I smell clean sheets. We were poorer than dirt, but my gods we had fun."

He leans back in his seat, just enjoying listening to the sound of her voice, her excitement, her happiness at being back in the city, all washing over him. He's heard some of this from her before - but not all of it. Perhaps this 'pretending to be strangers' bit has even more merit than he expected.

"What about you?" she asks him curiously.

(A/N: The three options here are "much like yours," "i don't like to talk about my past," and "I'm from baldur's gate too, I wonder if we crossed paths"; none of these are actually relevant to Hector's experience of growing up at the monastery. So we're going to skip over this line. XD )

He has told her some things about his life among the monks of Silverlight before - but fairly little about his childhood there. He finds himself starting to talk about it now, though. He has no real stories of joy and excitement like those she describes, and on some level he has started to realize just how barren his life was in these particular regards until he met her... but there were good memories too. He ends up telling her a little about the lessons he received - how he started being trained as a scribe before they discovered his fascination with the ancient tomes and texts of their historical library...

She listens with rapt fascination, just as he had listened to her, a slight, blissful smile on her face.

It's hard to say how long they sit there, caught in the conversation, trading stories back and forth; both of them have started to relax into this 'first date' conceit and Hector feels his cheeks starting to hurt from smiling. They're only interrupted by the eventual arrival of their food... which is wrong.

Two plates of seafood stew land on the table in front of them, along with the two glasses of wine. Karlach looks down at the plate with an air of some disappointment - but is met with a curse from the irritable innkeeper who stalks away when she tries to ask for a change.

Hector can see her struggling to mask the disappointment at the meal not quite going as planned, and she forces a smile back onto her face.

"Worst guy I ever met," she mutters wryly. "How about a toast?"

But, frazzled, she moves too fast, and the wine glass slips from her fingers as she goes to lift it, sending a spray of pale purple across the table - and over her lap. "Oh, SHIT," she snaps, and Hector can hear her voice crack.

Frowning, he reaches out and takes her hand in both of his. He can feel the increased heat of the engine in her palm and knows it for a sign of her agitation, and his thumbs drift over her knuckles gently, soothingly. "We can use my glass," he says mildly, and reaches to lift it between them. "To us."

He can see her relax, his voice and touch pushing away the frustration in favor of something warmer. She smiles slightly, nods agreement as he makes the toast, and her eyes track his intensely. The conceit of the first date is gone abruptly, and he sees the full depth of feeling in her eyes, everything they have built together in the months that he has been hers.

"May we live every day as if it were our last," she says softly. "'Cause you never know when your last will come." Before he can respond, she pushes up from her chair and leans across the table to press her lips against his fiercely.

As always, the oblique reference to how little time they have left makes his heart twist in his chest -- but now it is his turn to push that down and away. It has no place here. This moment is for her - for them - to feel, just for a little while, like they can say anything, do anything... like just for one night they are not trapped in the raging river of fate that is dragging them along.

Just for tonight, he thinks, and kisses her deeply, one hand sliding into her hair. Just for tonight... we have all of time ahead of us...

-----

It must be nearly two in the morning, he reflects vaguely sometime later, as he peers out at the curve of the moon and its position slowly descending towards the west. He's barely been aware of the passage of time; the last few hours have been some of the happiest of his life. Just like she promised... no monsters, no fights, no fears, just them, together, talking about whatever comes to mind, each sentence punctuated by a brush of fingertips against a hand or a cheek, a stolen kiss, a sip of wine...

And of course, the seafood stew, which really is dreadful, but certainly filling.

Karlach leans back in her chair with a heavy, contented sigh. "That was great," she mumbles, and flicks a glance at Hector with a slow smile. "The food and the company."

They've both had a little too much wine, really. Hector's lips have been fixed in a permanent, slightly giddy grin for at least the last hour. All the dark thoughts are far behind him now and he feels as if he is simply drifting, content to be near her, and has been forever, and will be forever still.

"Lovely having a normal evening amid the chaos..." he says quietly.

She smiles wryly. "Whatever do you mean? We're just two normal people... living normal lives... very, very normally."

But she can't maintain the facade again; her voice cracks just a little, and she reaches out abruptly, putting her hand over his on the table.

He stirs slightly, the happy buzz fading as he registers something serious and sad coming into her eyes.

"I know I can't stay forever," she says quietly. There's no attempt at jocular humor this time, no wry deflection or avoidance. Her voice is soft and flat, full of love and full of grief. "Here. With you. In fact, I feel like..." She swallows. "Like I don't have long left at all."

His face spasms with a failed effort to contain the fear that floods through him at those words. Every moment he knows it is on the horizon, and yet hearing her speak of it directly, as something looming even closer than before, feels like a dagger through his heart.

Her hand tightens around his, pulling him a little closer to her. "We've been through so much," she goes on. "And the worst is yet to come. I have every reason to feel terrified, hopeless... like giving up." She draws a breath and lets it out slowly, visibly struggling to keep composure long enough to finish speaking. "But to be here, with you, in the city I love, in this world I love so much... it's all I could really ask for."

She reaches out, cups her hand against his cheek, running her thumb along the edge of his beard. It's an affectionate gesture, of course, but it also serves to pull his face towards her, to nudge open his eyes so they meet hers squarely. "You hear me?" she says, suddenly fierce, her voice cracking again as the emotion starts to overwhelm her. "*You're* all I could ever ask for. I love you... and I know that whatever else this city will throw at us, we can handle it."

He is listening with such fervent attention that he feels a muscle start to ache in his neck. And though his instinct, whenever this topic comes up, is to recoil into grief... this time he forces himself only to listen, to let her words flow through him and strengthen him.

Maybe it will end. But it meant something. It meant everything. It will always have meant everything...

He will have that to hold onto, when the pain eventually finds him. As it will, no matter how hard he tries to look away.

"I love you too," he whispers unsteadily, looking back into her eyes, his gaze heavy with all the love he feels for her. In almost every other moment, he is so careful with what he shows, how he controls himself... but not here. There is nothing hidden, not from her.

She smiles, kisses him again, slow and deep, then rests her forehead against his. "Come on," she murmurs. "There's something I want to show you upstairs."

He has to take a moment and breathe several times before he trusts himself to speak. "What is it?" he asks.

She laughs, only a little shakily. "I rented us a room for the whole night. Just the two of us -- alone, finally."

In spite of the emotional strain of the conversation, he feels a flicker of eager warmth go all through him, and she grins at the expression on his face.

"After you," he says, and pushes himself unsteadily to his feet.

-----

He has only ever experienced their lovemaking in camp. And he had never had anything to complain of. She has always been more wonderful than he would have words to describe, no matter where they are. He wouldn't have thought to ask for more even if it had been an option.

But this... gods. A soft bed and her warmth all over him, the same hungry eagerness that has marked their previous encounters, and yet... slow.

They had claimed to each other that they were going slow, that first night back in the shadowlands - but it wasn't really. It was rushed and desperate, full of need and urgency - both from desire and from the necessary limitations of sex in a camp full of other people.

This... this is slow. They have all night, and no one to bother them, nothing to distract. He is free to take his time, explore every part of her as she explores him. And the look in her eyes as their bodies meld together is something he will never forget if he were to live to be a thousand years old.

He loves her... he loves her... he loves her... and he can feel her on the edge of slipping away from him, but he will carry this with him into the darkness when she is gone.

He loves her and he is losing her and he does not know what he will do without her.

But they have this.

They have this...

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #karlach x tav #long post #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #ok the cute followed by the feelsy... my heart was not prepared for this scene #and this took me like two hours to write because hector is having SO MANY EMOTIONS #and so am i #i am honestly so pleased with how this conversation went because ultimately it was a simple direct speech from her that he needed to hear #he needed to hear her not laugh or brush it off or avoid the topic #and he in turn needed to give her the gift of letting her tell him what she did and let it mean something without all the baggage #also this was one of the most sweet and soft sex scenes i have ever seen in a video game #and it makes me sad i can't screenshot more of it here without risking getting the post flagged XD #anyway it's 1am and i'm a mess #idk if there are like good and bad times to post this stuff but this probably counts as bad XD #also this post is enormous so y'know. never let it be said i don't give bang for the buck content-wise lol

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misroberts · 9 days

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john being her first grazing with love. he was honest and persistent for her company when they grew close. but even before that the blunt honesty, statement of intentions all paired with sharp eyes were qualities she liked.

#( headcanon ) *#him being someone that makes her reflect and consider things she never had before #ive said it once but at no turn was she in pursuit of love #it just found her #okay now i gotta go to bed #ive rambled for too long #also i apologize to my partners #im a very slow writer. like embarrassingly. it took me 3 hours to write one starter #im so easy to distract #and sometimes i just dont wanna talk at all to anyone #ive always said abigail and all my muses deserve a much better writer xD #but thank ya for ur patience and the funny messages u guys got no idea how much i enjoy them #gnight!

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schneereggen · 2 years

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This idea was too cheesy to actually put it into a fan fiction. So I made it into a really short story to post it here.

The taste of coke

Guren didn't really like the taste of coke. It was not that he hated it. But it was that sweet taste on his lips that he disliked.

Furthermore the taste reminded him of his first day at the High School. The day he had been humiliated, not for the first time but it had been the first day of a span of humiliation. Leaving his sheltered life in Aichi to come to Tokyo, he knew what would come for him. But still he could remember the taste of that sweet coke running down his face, when the bottle had hit him. And every time he remembered now, it made him shiver.

The taste of cola and blood. This had been the day when he also had met him. Hiragi Shinya. He exactly remembered that stupid, annoying grin on his face. The piercing blue eyes that looked right through him, before Shinya had cast that spell upon him. Guren had decided to take the hit. And it had been painful. But this spell had just been the beginning.

Sweet and way too sugary on his tongue. Guren never understood the pleasure Shinya took in it. It was one of many things Guren didn’t understand about him. Whenever he would come over, he would take a coke out of the fridge without even asking. And Guren would call him out for it, telling him, not to just help himself to his coke.

But Shinya had just taken a sip and smirked at him. With the same stupid grin that he had on his lips the first time they met, his eyes piercing through him. “You want it back?” he had asked before he had pushed Guren against the fridge.

The taste was now all over his lips and mouth. Guren had decided to not fight back, not to push him away. Even when it was too sweet, the gentle touch of Shinya’s lips on his made up for the sugary flavour. Guren really like that feeling on his lips as Shinya’s tongue was hitting just the right spots to make him tremble.

By now Guren didn’t even mind the flavour. Seemingly he took more pleasure in kisssing him, feeling his tongue and body on his. Shinya had always been on his mind, never left his side. Since that first day at High School. Shinya had always been there for him. Comforting him, listening to him. And now kissing him passionately.

Guren didn't really like the taste of coke. But he loved that it reminded him of Shinya.

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

Uploaded to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40743282 :)

#when my friend started rambling about the coke scene in book 1 my mind automatically went to fanfiction mode #Can't help it #I could have written this in less than half an hour #but then my author brain went like Make it artsy #it's a short story #you can play with expectations and build a frame #I just wanted to write a fanfiction #but yea in the end this took me more than 2 hours #Also this kind of was inspired by my friend's answer to the question who tops #the one that kabedons first is just the top for the evening #XD #gureshin #shingure #fanfiction #short story #seraph of the gay

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aparticularbandit · 1 year

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🌹

🌹🌹🌹

...

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

(I'm being aggressive and I'm only a little sorry)

for every “🌹” received in my inbox i’ll post one random sentence of a random WIP i’m currently writing

oh, fuck you. (affectionate)

READ MORE BECAUSE YOU GET NINETEEN OF THESE. JOKE'S ON YOU. HAH!

...but also a table of contents for anyone else who might want to creep in on these:

Dark!Eve

Agatha Birthday fic

Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3

Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter

The Haunting of Westview Manor

What Dreams May Come Ch. ???

Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1)

Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)

The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???)

Dottie as Sin Rostro

Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer Book 4)

Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2)

A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal)

Roisa Grinchmas Special (this one’s in rhyme!)

On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???

On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel

Paradise Lost post-canon

Timeless/Noir fusion

The Story of a Girl (Noir fic; Title pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”

Dark!Eve:

It’s boring when they don’t struggle.

Dottie’s let her practice on her some, let her bind her hands together, made sure she’s tying her victims down properly, grinned around the gag pressed into her lips, and just stared without making any noise as Eve’s explored. She’s learned – you can’t just rip someone’s fingernail off. That hurts, sure, but you want to extend the pain. Start with something small and then build. You shove splinters and nails under their fingernails first, then you rip them off, if you want, provided there are other nails that you can do the same thing with.

Dismembering usually isn’t necessary. The people they send her after break long before then, which is good, because she’s never actually gotten to try the dismembering thing. She can’t just cut one of Dottie’s toes off. Besides breaking a bone is better than cutting it off because then you can still peel the skin back with a knife later. If you remove stuff, it should be teeth, pried out with pliers. Sure, they can’t grow back, but there’s not really much more you can do with teeth.

The thing about playing with Dottie is that she doesn’t break, which is fine, really, although she’s pretended to break so that Eve gets the idea of what that’s like, but Dottie is intentionally unbreakable so that Eve can deal with her own frustration when torture just doesn’t seem to go the way it’s supposed to go. But also playing with Dottie usually ends up in—

She can’t think about that right now. She needs to focus.

Eve picks at her teeth with the tip of her knife, fitting it carefully beside her canine with a little creak.

Maybe it’s the gag.

Agatha Birthday fic:

It literally goes wrong from the moment Eve wakes up.

Agatha refuses – absolutely refuses – to answer her phone. Which, you know, on a normal day, that’s just fine. Agatha has a life. She has a job. She’s juggling a lot of things all at once, and sometimes it takes a bit before she can call Eve back if she missed her call. Usually, when she knows it’s going to be a while before she can call back, she shoots Eve a text to let her know, to check and see if the conversation is something that can happen over text (most of the time, yes, but not always).

But on her birthday? None of that. No returned phone calls. No texts. No texts back, either, when Eve texts her. Just very clear and complete avoidance.

Now.

Eve likes to consider herself a good girlfriend. She isn’t particularly worried that something has happened to Agatha; she’s too aware of the date for that and figures that Agatha is just hiding. (On a normal day, yes, she would be worried. This is not a normal day.) It isn’t like she didn’t do the same on her worst day ever, when Jane wasn’t available as a distraction (for very good reason), but even she had reached out to Agatha. Eventually. When she’d desperately needed someone there and hadn’t—

Look, Eve understands needing to hole up and mourn, but it is Agatha’s birthday, and Agatha needs her, and Agatha would never admit that she needs her, so she’s going to go pound on Agatha’s door and barge in and make her feel better. As soon as she gets off of work. With the hope that Agatha is actually home.

Take A Sad Song and Make It Better Ch. 3:

The thing about hospitals is that—

Well. There’s a lot of things about hospitals, and we really don’t have quite the time to get into all of that. Andi’s still out, which does give us a fair amount of time, but I highly suspect that you would prefer to get back to the action, back to the fam, back to the search for the envelope to determine whether or not that they might find it.

Give me a moment.

The thing about hospitals is this: If you have an emergency contact listed with them, then when something happens to you, they call your emergency contact. Regardless of whether or not someone else is there with you, your emergency contact is the person who has the right to make decisions about your life when you are unconscious, the way that Andi currently is. It’s just simple protocol.

And here’s the thing about that – up until just recently, Claire was Andi’s emergency contact. Claire knew that. Claire knows that. It hasn’t crossed her mind, however, that when Andi reached the hospital they did not call her. Duke did, but the hospital didn’t.

Because once Claire lied on the stand, Andi took some time to herself. Reconsidered a few things.

And changed her emergency contact.

Post-Finding Family Agatha - Stephen Encounter (because it got prompted):

She told herself she would never actually go in the New York Sanctum again, after that last time, but the problem with telling herself that is knowing that, well. As long as she literally had an apartment right next door. Inevitably.

But honestly, she had a rent controlled apartment in New York City. Sure, sure, she could use magic to override her landlord’s mind and make it completely free (and, sure, she might have already done that once or twice over the past few decades, when whoever inherited the building tried to fuck around with her (How can you be the same resident from over a century ago? That’s not possible! – Dear, you live on a planet of superheroes that gets visited by aliens, and you think you have some normal human being just hanging out in this apartment? That you can boss around? This is why New York gets attacked by every new wannabe villain; it’s not the Worf Effect or a symbol or anything – it’s entitled landlords not remembering that people with powers exist and can punch the ever-loving shit out of them when they get pissed off. Almost as bad as working in customer service. Yeesh)) – but what would be the fun in that? She’s not Wanda, after all. She doesn’t need everything to go her way all of the time.

Admittedly, Wanda is the reason she’s here in the first place. Something about America and Wendy being part of this new Baby Vengeance team or something like that (she knows the real name, but she enjoys seeing the frustration in Wanda’s expression when she refuses to use the right term, loves seeing her pinch the bridge of her nose, delights when, eventually, Wanda says, “I’m not even going to correct you anymore, Agatha; I know you’re doing this on purpose” and still sighing with exasperation anyway); something about how they’ve been gone for far too long this time. That thin tremor under her voice that suggests just how worried she’s trying not to be.

For a witch able to control the very fabric of reality in this universe, Wanda has gotten surprisingly good at not sticking her nose into everybody else’s business.

Why would she need to do that when she has Agatha to do it for her?

(In most cases, Agnes would be better, but they can’t get Agnes without having America open a portal to that universe she and Ash are shacking up in, so she’s the next best thing. Besides. She has centuries of being the New York Sanctum’s nosy neighbor. It’s just a shame that Cian is no longer here to see it.)

The Haunting of Westview Manor (aka THOHH/THOBM and WandaVision infusion):

She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor.

Or.

Well.

She’d always had a hard time sleeping starting with Westview Manor.

She remembers, in flickering fragmented memories, moments before her family had moved into the not-yet-decrepit manor, but they’re few and far between. Her time living there had so shaped and shifted everything else that it is hard to reach back to earlier, simpler, happier times. Times when she could sleep and dream of something good – like flying into a sky full of stars and reaching out to each one in turn, hoping to make friends with them. Times that she hadn’t had since—

Well, since Westview Manor.

She’d always had a hard time sleeping in Westview Manor, even before things went bad, and she’d always had a hard time sleeping after Westview Manor, even now when things could almost be called good.

It’s the closest to good she’d had in a long…in a really long time, actually.

But we’re not there yet. We’re still looking at Westview Manor, we’re still looking at her, slumbering, trying to slumber, and shifting beneath her blankets, unable to stay still, turning this way and that, tangling herself in them, hands gripping her throat until she sits up, gasping for air, blankets falling to her waist. Back then, she was only a child, brown hair nearly down to her waist if it was ever let free, although she cut it off a few days later, not liking the way it could so easily catch on anything – everything – around the manor. She always felt like something was reaching out for her, grabbing and tugging on her hair with thin spindly fingers, and it didn’t matter that she would turn and see a statue with a bow or something like that, she still felt like it was someone and not something.

What Dreams May Come Ch. ???:

You are you and you are aware of yourself and you are aware of nothing at all.

Your name is Viola Lloyd, nee Willoughby, or something like it.

Your name is Viola Lloyd. The year is 1680. You are at Bly Manor. Your daughter, Isabel, is five years old. Your husband is gone on one of his business trips. The money is running out.

And your sister wants you dead.

You have lived in this room – in your room, you know this room, you know it well, you know it from the way you have paced it so often, so often since you have taken up space within your host’s body – and yet you do not have a host. You are you and you are yourself and you are nothing at all.

For the past five years, you have been stuck in this room, barely leaving it and being forced back into it when you do by family who are afraid that you will infect them or even more afraid that you will somehow ruin the image your daughter has of you. This angers you – a rage that has been building over the past five years, not just from this alone – a rage that, it appears, has not left you, even in death. Your daughter remembers you as nothing else but this. Why should seeing you at your worst make her hate you? She has only ever seen you like this.

And this?

You know now.

This is not your worst.

Mexican Stud (Epic Superhero Crossover Book 1):

Joan clasps one hand over the hollow where her left eye once was – or she tries to, but it isn’t as hollow as movies and books would lead her to assume. The bulb that was once her eye is splattered, blood covering her face, the sheets, probably the face of the woman who had been lying above her – but none of this matters. The only thing that matters is the nerve she now holds in her hand and the popped vessel at its very tip and the incomparable pain pulsing behind where her eye once was.

She doesn’t scream.

Her throat is torn raw, but she doesn’t scream. She shivers as the pulsing slows down, sparks flying about her fingertips. The rings she’d been wearing – the rings the other woman made to ground her – are smashed, shattered much in the same vein as her eye is, and their metal edges feel shoved into the flesh of her thumbs, her middle fingers. There’s probably blood there, too. She can’t tell.

Joan takes a deep breath and sits up in the bed, still cradling what was once her eye in one hand, trying to clasp it to the hollow where it once lay, and it’s only then that she notices how far the electric jolt has carried Rose. No longer is the redhead on the bed with her; instead, she has been thrown across the room by the force of the blast, and she sits crumpled on the floor beneath a wall that looks cracked by the weight of her. One of her hands cradles her head.

“Was it worth it?” Joan asks, her voice raw, rasping. She can’t keep the venom, the bitterness out of her voice, even as Rose looks up with a blood-spattered face. “Was this what you wanted?”

Rose doesn’t say anything at first, and Joan is certain that’s because there is nothing left to say. With her free hand, Joan tries to prop herself up so that she can move from Rose’s bed, but the hollow where her eye once was throbs. She takes a deep breath, her free hand gripping the edge of the mattress so tight that her knuckles turn a bright white. A tile from the ceiling drops with a loud clang between them, but neither of them jump.

“I can fix this.”

Joan starts to whirl to face Rose, but the movement makes her stomach clench. Her teeth grit together. “What?”

Rose struggles to her feet. “I can fix this.”

Joan stares over the other woman’s naked body with her one remaining good eye, and she chokes back a sound that could either be a laugh or a sob. She intends for it to be the former, but she’s in so much pain that the latter wouldn’t be unimaginable at this point. “You can fix this?” she snarls. “I’m missing an eye!”

Collateral Damage (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Luisa/Wendy backstory/interlude/etc.):

“Rose?”

It has been three months since the accident. She didn’t like to think about it in public if she didn’t have to, and for those first few days, she had holed herself up in what was their apartment, because no matter where she went it felt like everything playing on every television in every restaurant or train station or anywhere that had a television on playing in the background was that recurring footage and the big white letters on the blue background: SUPERVILLAIN THE GHOST KILLED IN EXPLOSIVE FIGHT WITH—

The rest didn’t matter. It didn’t matter who had killed Rose (it was an accident, the reporters said; there were no witnesses), only that she was destroyed so completely that all that was left of her were her teeth and an imprint of her on a wall otherwise covered with shadow and ash. There hadn’t been any body for her to identify, hadn’t been any call for her to come to the morgue, hadn’t been any funerary arrangements or urns or anything – just POOF! and then the love of her life was gone.

Luisa stared at the redheaded woman standing just in front of her, and her breath catches in her throat because Rose was dead. But, then, maybe that was why Whitney had directed her to this hair salon to get her hair done instead of her normal one. Maybe Whitney knew something she didn’t.

But, no, before the girl could even say anything, Luisa was convinced that this couldn’t be Rose. She was too young. Far too young. (Okay, maybe not that young – she looked the same way, perhaps, that Rose should have when they first met, if Rose hadn’t been changing her appearance to fit how she thought she should look.) Her blue eyes were brighter, calmer than the tempests that had often been in the midst of Rose’s, and the freckles on her face stood out more starkly beneath her make-up. Rose had always tried to change her face enough to cover them up, to not have them at all unless Luisa specifically requested them, but this girl didn’t seem to mind hers at all.

And she was—

“No, I’m Wendy,” the girl said, and her voice made Luisa’s heart ache. “But if you’d like to see someone else, I can arrange for that. You had an appointment, didn’t you? You’re Miss—”

“Alver, yes, I had an appointment, a friend of mine set it up for me, and no, don’t get someone else, I….” Luisa took a deep breath to steady herself and looked up to meet the younger girl’s eyes. “You just look so much like someone I used to know.”

The House on Ridge Road (Epic Superhero Crossover Book ???) (Dottie Backstory):

You run a hand through her hair.

Present tense – run – when it happens, you’re present; when you remember, you’re present – you understand the past and the future as detached concepts, but you are present in them and within them; you remember and you relive.

You run a hand through her hair.

It’s soft, softer than her hair has any right to be after hours, days, years of being pinned up, sprayed into place, not one strand moving unless you – you, yourself, or someone like you, but there is no one like you, only weak men who fail beneath your own prowess – force them to move. Her hair is soft and smells of roses. That’s the bathwater. You scented it, before—

You scent it and run your fingers through the warm water as you sit on the edge of the tub, rippling, rippling, rippling.

There are no candles. She doesn’t like candles. She caught you once playing with the flame – baby lightning in a bottle – sometimes you burn your fingers – Peggy doesn’t like candles or maybe she just doesn’t like it when the skin of your fingers feels raw from playing with them, doesn’t like the way your skin grows back and heals all too easily and the rawness is gone in only moments, doesn’t like the abilities your people stole from vials they were never meant to have.

You’re weaker, in that regard, than the boy she lost years ago. You know his name, but not because she wants you to know it. She tore it at you, screamed—

She tears it at you, screams it, louder than anything – “He’s a better man than you will ever grow to be” – and you let her say it because she means it and because she needs to say it and you brush the dust of broken plaster walls from your dress and wipe a track of blood from just above your right eye and pop your right shoulder back into place and you stare at her, chest heaving, face all rage and hate, and you know it’s just redirected at the nearest person and that person just happens to be you—

You can take it. She needs to get the venom out. All out.

When you look again, her hands are no longer clenched into defensive, aggressive fists; her fingers brush those loose strands of hair back into place; she’ll be sore tomorrow, but she’s not bloodied the way you are. If you were a normal person, you would have a black eye, but you aren’t a normal person, no matter how much they force you to act like one until they need you.

You rotate your shoulder and it hurts but not too terribly. You like the pain.

“Are you done now, Peg? Get it all out?”

Dottie as Sin Rostro:

Time off.

The words are a nuisance for Dottie Underwood, who would far prefer to be sitting in a lair waiting for instructions or set up on location, gathering intelligence or preparing for a hit under yet another alias. Even the name she used now wasn’t the one she was born with, not that it much mattered. Crime lords and their best associates rarely used their real names – Elena di Nola was Mutter and her second-in-command was Sin Rostro, whoever happened to be wearing the name on any given day. Sometimes it was Elena; sometimes it was her son, Derek; sometimes it was her daughter, a woman Dottie had never met; and sometimes, on the rare occurrence that the other two were not available and Elena wanted a proxy, Dottie herself would wear the name.

Names on names on names.

She wasn’t even Dottie anymore now. When the word slowly grew more and more associated with insanity, she’d needed something a little more sane, a little more…consistent.

Not that it mattered during time off.

She’d painted her hair a bright red to match the blood of her nails and her lips, heightening and contrasting her pale skin, her ice blue eyes. Some might use smaller terms to describe her – attractive, pretty, hot – and she hated that last one in comparison with the others she’d grown accustomed to in the earlier years – alluring, magnetic, mesmerizing. Hypnotic. But she wasn’t looking for words when she walked into the bar, as amusing as the murmurs and the collective hush were.

It was the eyes suddenly trained to her that made her blood rise, the heads tilted in her direction and following her every move that started the bubbling giggle clasped in the back of her throat, the turning of bodies open to her every whim that assured her control.

But it’s to the mostly empty bar that she made her way, the crowd parting for her like hot butter for a knife, and it was at the sole occupant that she paused, brightly painted nails tapping on the counter.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, her voice soft and full of the innocence and wonder she’d been trained to exude. “I wouldn’t want to intrude if you’re waiting for someone.”

Love is Not a Victory March (Roisa Soulmate Timer AU Book 4):

Michael Cordero, Jr. had never had a strong fascination with hotels like the Marbella. He knew they existed, but to him, they had always seemed like tourist traps, destinations for people who didn’t live in Florida, meant for an elite sort of people that he and his family had never and would never be part of. That made it sound as though he had a strong distaste for them, and maybe, to some extent, that was true, but for the most part, he just didn’t think about them.

That was until his timer went off for one of the waitresses who worked there.

At the time, Michael couldn’t have guessed that’s what she was, and in the years since, years he’d spent watching her from afar while he tracked down a crime lord who had grown mysteriously silent until, finally, he’d been connected to the very same hotel where his soulmate worked, he’d found that distaste slowly growing. His soulmate deserved better, and he couldn’t wait to see her grow into whatever that better would be.

Mostly he couldn’t wait to spend his time watching something other than this stupid tourist trap hotel and its absolutely unattractive current manager with his rippling muscles that looked like they could burst out of his shirt at any moment or his leggy blonde wife who seemed to have no sense of propriety and wore bootie shorts everywhere like she wanted to be seen as a piece of meat. Not that he was one of those misogynistic assholes who thought that women couldn’t wear whatever they wanted, because he was not that.

He was just growing very, very tired of watching all of it.

Until Roman Zazo fell from a window on the twelfth floor and landed with the sharp point of an ice Marlin piercing through his chest.

Then everything seemed to suddenly grow a lot more interesting.

Clara Ruvelle and the Heir of Slytherin (Roisa HP AU Book 2):

“Hey!” Clara pushed back against Hermione, shoving her over. “I told you I didn’t want you to sit with me!”

But Hermione stayed where she was, refusing to get up, refusing to move even after Clara shoved her. She just turned and gave her a flat stare. “You’re not supposed to be fighting on the train.”

Clara’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not supposed to set professors on fire either but—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Ginny held up her hands, palms out, and stared at Clara. “Hermione set a professor on fire?” Her eyes widened, and she looked at Hermione. “You really did that?”

Hermione gave Clara a blank stare and then turned to Ginny. “No. Of course not. Good students don’t set their professors on fire.”

“Yeah, well, you must not be a very good student, then.” Clara crossed her arms and leaned back against the plush back of the train bench. “Since you definitely did that.”

“Clara.” Hermione elbowed her harshly as she whispered through gritted teeth at her. “Stop.”

Ginny just turned to Luisa with wide eyes. “You’re the Hufflepuff!” she exclaimed and grinned. “You’ll tell me the truth, right!”

Luisa just looked from Clara to Hermione and then winced. “I, uh, I—”

“Quit making house assumptions,” Janet interrupted, voice flat. Cat the cat had made his way out of her arms and woven around her neck, his head resting on his paws on the shoulder closest to the window so that he could stare outside with his one remaining eye, his tail on the other end, occasionally flicking against Clara as it moved. “Just because Luisa is in Hufflepuff doesn’t mean that she’s a pushover—”

“Hey!” Luisa interrupted.

“—just because Hermione’s in Gryffindor doesn’t mean she’s brave—”

“Hey!” Hermione echoed Luisa.

“—and just because Clara and I are in Slytherin doesn’t mean we’re going to kill you or try to take over the world.” Janet’s wand tapped against her arm a couple of times. “Although, now that I mention it, taking over the world does sound like fun. We may try and do that anyway.”

“Janet,” Clara hissed, elbowing her. “We’re not going to take over the world. That is way more work than either of us wants to do. And you would have to pretend to get along with people – all that hand shaking and playing nice and everything – and I don’t think you’d like that very much.”

Janet sighed and nodded once. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. Maybe we postpone the taking over the world thing.”

A Christmas Hideaway (Roisa Hallmark Holiday Special Reversal):

“No, Daddy, I won’t be home for Christmas.”

Luisa has perfected the art of lying to her father about mundane things, particularly over the phone. It started years ago when she was in high school, lying about stealing liquor from his cabinet whenever he asked with eyes that had initially shifted to look towards the ground and then eventually grew to facing him directly with a strong jaw, and continued through college, lying about how much time she was spending studying for her classes when really she was spending most of her time out with her friends doing almost anything except studying. At some point, he stopped calling (or she stopped answering). His time was – and still is – much better spent working on his company than inquiring into his children’s life. Not because he doesn’t care. He does. Luisa is certain he does. That just isn’t how he shows it. Mostly he shows it by staying out of her life or by giving her whatever she needs, money-wise, whenever she asks for it.

The not being home for Christmas part isn’t the lie. The next part is.

Roisa Grinchmas Special:

Down at the hotel, far from their harsh glances, lived the other woman, whose drunken dances on tabletops naked with far too much glee were probably not meant for you or for me, especially since she had gone off the drink, tore it from her bar, and poured it down her sink. Yet still in her form she held both style and grace and often used these to make others’ hearts race. Her smile lit the room far better than fire and her heart burned like it would on a pyre for people and family who she held most dear, for whom she would shed far much more than a tear.

On Myths and Hideouts Ch. ???

City Hall feels like a bad marriage between Greco-Roman architecture and modern, streamlined, minimalistic design. The former is a bad habit of all American political buildings; the latter is likely Storybrooke – or Regina – specific. There are columns and a lot of black and white, which Rose hopes is not indicative of Regina’s way of thinking or her morals (she doubts this), and some wallpaper of trees, which should be rustic, but because it’s in black and white, it isn’t. It works a little better than most people would think, but Rose – who spent way too long as Emilio’s interior design decorator for his hotels – doesn’t think it works at all. She likes the black and white better than the Miami beach vibes that the Marbella put out, but only because she’s gotten plain sick of the Marbella after the last several years.

Regina stops at the secretary’s desk before heading into her office, leaning over just enough to give Rose a good view of her ass. This is intentional. At least, if Rose had done it, it would have been intentional, and she suspects that Storybrooke’s mayor runs on the same general wavelength that she does. She can’t say just why she suspects it, but she gets that general vibe.

“Jessica, dear, clear out my meetings for the rest of the day.” Regina glances over her shoulder at Rose as though she hopes to catch her staring. Her expression falters and quickly fixes itself when she realizes that she isn’t. “I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Regina’s secretary – Jessica, apparently – lifts her head and glances over to Rose. The two of them look quite similar, although Jessica is, for the most part, thinner and more angular than Rose is, with the exception of her chest, which almost seems impossibly big for how small the rest of her is. Her Crayola red hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and she pushes thin black frames up her nose, brilliantly cerulean eyes peering out at Rose with a lack of interest as she takes her in. “Of course, Ms. Mills,” she murmurs, and her voice is at once both demure and alluring.

Regina Mills might try her hardest to seduce Rose Alver, but she will not get anywhere near as close as this Jessica does within the first five seconds.

Rose swallows once, and her gaze flicks back to Regina. Maybe that ass view wasn’t for her at all. Luisa had thought Regina had something going on with the sheriff, but at this moment, she’s pretty sure that she actually has something much more interesting going on with her secretary.

On Myths and Hideouts Jess Prequel:

Jessica Krupnick sees a lot that she does not mention.

Well. This would mean more if she had someone to mention it to. She has no friends in this little town, although she is certain that she could if she tried. She has never felt that impulse to try. People seem to think of her first as Mayor Mills’s secretary, the woman the mayor chose not as her right hand woman – the closest person in Storybrooke who came to that was Sheriff Humbert, who insisted that everyone refer to him as Graham (or at least, he insisted that to Jessica every time they spoke, and she consistently pretended as though he didn’t) – but as the protector of….

Well, her, if you wanted to think of it that way.

Sheriff Humbert protected the people. He was a physical failsafe. Jessica protected her office. She was a mental failsafe.

And sometimes, Jessica considers as she sees Henry speeding into the office, skidding across the marble floors on his shoes with the biggest grin on his face she has ever seen, she protects her heart.

Paradise Lost post-canon:

Francis tapped the steering wheel of the U-Haul with the pad of her thumb. The air conditioner rattled a little too loudly as she drove, overwhelming the soft tunes crooning through the radio. Davis sat in the middle seat, belt tight across his waist, and Reynolds sat in the passenger seat, elbow resting on the door and staring out the window at the passing landscape.

“It’ll be cooler once the car warms up,” Francis remarks, reaching over and tousling her youngest son’s hair. He’s sticky with sweat; U-Hauls were nothing more than metal boxes, and in the Southern humid heat, it had cooked itself until even touching the seats felt like it would burn through their skin. It was only made worse by the shorts they were all wearing, pushing exposed skin against burning fabric. At least she had convinced the boys to wear t-shirts instead of tank-tops.

Davis was easy enough to convince, but Reynolds….

Reynolds wasn’t wearing a t-shirt the way Francis wanted. Instead, his shirt was stretched so that it hung about him more like a wife-beater than a shirt, and the sleeves were stretched so that they might as well have not been there at all. She was certain if he was wearing a normal shirt, the sleeves would be rolled up to feign a tank within seconds.

This was all just the influence of the football team and his father’s friendship with Dickie. That may have fallen lax in the past few months as the divorce dragged on, but Reynolds had maintained his friendship with Dickie’s son – and no amount of Francis telling him it was a bad idea did anything. In fact, she’d refrained from saying much at all, outside of suggesting that he should choose his friends wisely and hoping that Yates suggested the same.

Considering the fight he’d allowed between the two of them, Francis sincerely doubted he had.

Timeless/Noir fusion:

It happened at the end of her last class of the day. Lucy felt the vibration of her phone – a longer buzz indicative of an email instead of the shorter one for a text – where it rested in the left pocket of her slacks. She stepped outside of the lecture hall, shuffled her students’ papers and folders (it was essay day, and some of them still used folders although she’d said multiple times that she preferred they didn’t), and pulled out her phone.

Emma Whitmore.

Lucy didn’t recognize the name, but it could be from a student wanting into one of her classes or a professor asking for her expertise on one of their projects. This wasn’t too unusual. Probably a student – she knew most of the professors on campus by name; even if she’d never met them, she’d likely heard about them from one of the other students in passing. She’d never heard of a Professor Whitmore, though.

Her eyes scanned the email.

Standard fare for a professor help request – doing a bit of research, wanted to speak with someone more knowledgeable about the subject (mostly time period, maybe some political history), etc. There were a few lines that felt a little off, but Lucy chalked that up to what she expected was likely a new hire who was unnecessarily intimidated by her own pedigree. And while it was odd that Emma hadn’t used her school email, given the more professional setting, it might be that she wanted to keep everything involving her research organized separately from her student emails. Lucy couldn’t fault her for that, either.

She sent a quick reply – yes, along with perhaps meeting for coffee or drinks Friday afternoon – and then promptly forgot about the entire thing as her phone rang, another incessant and immediate buzzing.

“Amy?” Lucy braced the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she moved her pile of essays and folders once more. “Slow down! What happened this time?”

The Story of a Girl (Noir Fic; Title Pending) Ch. 3 - “Shielded by Black Robes”:

The attackers dodged. That was the first thing she noticed, the first of many problems with this scenario. They dodged.

The second problem was when one of them somehow caught the knife she threw at his forehead. He smirked at her and threw it back so fast she barely dodged it herself. These mooks were good.

But Chloe was better.

Whereas before she stood her ground next to the pillar with only the occasional dodge, now she began to race forward, a knife in each hand. The men pulled out their guns, finally finished reloading them, but she was upon them before the first trigger could be pressed.

Below. Sweep the leg. Beneath, behind. Knife to the side, the neck. Catch and hold while shot at – meat shields are the best kind because the shots go both ways.

Throw him away. Dodge. Roll. Bite.

The blonde stepped out from behind the pillar, aiming and shooting and moving, all one fluid motion, she a panther, lithe and strong, and Chloe a cheetah, swift and deadly, spotless. She saw the shot from the gun, aimed toward the blonde, fast, too fast – the blue eyes once so icy now so warm and wide—

No.

Her teeth dripped blood that day.

#musings #bandit answers questions #bandit writes fic #our blood is our ink #meme response #agave stuff #glass onion fix it fic #wanda america fic #bly manor fix it fic #epic superhero crossover #roisa soulmate timer au #roisa hp au #roisa hallmark holiday special #jtv/ouat crossover #noir fic #this took me like #two hours to compile #I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT #XD

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beardedhandstoadshark · 7 months

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Any ghost stories or accidentally struck upon one?

Only ghost story I ever heard in my life was the rumor that my grade schools was haunted. And that was less treated like a ghost story and more like a " yea we know who cares“

So for context, that school is old, having turned 200 years old when I still went there, and is made up of 2 buildings- the new one that houses most of the rooms and all the important logistical stuff, and the original school. The rumor came from the weird way that old building was used.

It was made up of three floors, and the first floor acted just like your regular school floor. Stickers on windows, two bright classrooms with lots of colors, heck, they even had pcs. That was back when Windows XP was still the go-to, so quite modern all things considered.

The second floor held an equally colorful extension of the after-school care in one room, and a third classroom in the other. That’s where things got slightly weird - the daycare extension was originally an unused classroom, while this one was still in use - but only for a single week each year.

You see, in our school, 4th graders had an extra school "subject". It was more of an event week though still mostly just school, with its defining feature being that it wouldn’t happen in their regular classrooms like all the other subjects but specifically in that otherwise unused first-floor classroom of the old building. We all just thought it was a way to celebrate the schools history, as it did involve historic stuff, even though the years didn’t really match.

And then there was the third floor. The attic.

The only thing anyone knew was that, it was, for a long time had been, and to my knowledge still is after all these years, completely and utterly abandoned. No one was allowed to go there, and even despite being the place that needed it the most, it wasn’t even so much as touched when they renovated.

And if you tried to go out the room while in care, you’d obviously be stopped- not because you could accidentally fall down the stairs, but you might try to climb them up.

Aside from that, we also had a tree nicknamed the climbing tree because it was genuinely amazing to climb on, having lots of sturdy branches that started from the ground up to wind in all directions. If you ever saw kids climbing on the climbing frame that was right beside it, it was because there was no space on the tree left. Not only was it bigger and better, the tree also had quite the stories to it!

For one, it was rumored to be 100 (not 200) years old. If it’s still standing today, I could honestly see it, given just how sturdy, branched-out, but also marked the tree was. You also had that it was magic or smth because of a weird hole in the middle and the way some branches grew, or that if bark was peeling away somewhere you should rip it all off and slap some dirt from the ground on there so it can heal properly. There were…quite a few rumors about all the trees on that school yard, actually?

Anyways, of the lesser known rumors was actually an add-on to that first one about the tree‘s age. This one stated not only was the it really a century old, but the reason it’s there on the actual schoolyard and not on the side like the others was that it was specifically planted for a kid that died in the old building after

falling down

the

stairs.

Do you want to know what the theme of that event week I told you about was, anon? The one with the years that don’t match the schools‘ age?

It was "Reenacting school 100 years ago".

#another anon ask #the problem with ghost stories is that they’re all like OOooooOoO someone died here!#but like. I live in Europe #I eat burgers in a building that’s older than the United States of America #OBVIOUSLY someone died here yknow XD #it just stops having the same punch it always seems to have in movies #anyways a teacher once picked a few of us to help her get some stuff up the attic #it was Hecken DUSTY #and also would’ve made for a good spooky setting tbh #had a bunch of old tables and chairs #a single pair of chairs stacked with one turned 180° on the other so the legs went up #in the middle of the attic #iirc #which i probably don’t tbh #VERY likely tiny me added some drama onto those memories #so yea. Saw the forbidden attic :3 #and am also gonna ignore that this took like an hour to write #and a frankly embarrassing amount of looking up English words I learned in that very grade school lmao

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sakurarisen · 10 months

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“I think my mind has gone places it will never fully recover from.”

Random Dialogue Starters!

She hadn't meant to laugh. When her lips parted, she'd expected words to fall from them - Not the light but tired laughter that escaped in their place, leaning back against the tree she'd sat under like it was the only thing that could keep her upright. He'd been through more than she could ever dream of, she was sure, but somehow, those words had left her with a feeling of closeness to him she hadn't felt since they'd been younger and living in Midgar. A feeling of familiarity, even, warming the blonde through to her core.

"I didn't mean to laugh, I promise-" How many times had Sera uttered that same sentence to him since they'd met? It felt like a thousand times over, yet unlike in the past, it lacked the old timid, nervous tremble that had once been present in everything she said and did. This was a friend, though many would have questioned her if she'd said that aloud by now, wouldn't they? Just what exactly had he gotten into in the years since he and Zack had left for Nibelheim? ...Did she... Really want to know?

"I don't know what you've seen," she continued, turning her gaze first down to the ground, then slowly up to meet his, "but I feel like I can agree with you. This world is..." Something. Evil. Horrible. Needing help. Someone to turn it down a better path. There were a lot of ways she could finish that, but in the end, all the woman could do was wave a hand in a weak gesture to fill the empty space. How did she word it when she barely knew what to do with either of them yet? Or if she should even let him further into Gongaga? If she snuck him to the house for safekeeping, would it backfire? Would she ever get her thoughts under control-?

Ultimately, another laugh followed. "Sometimes I wonder if recovery like that is even possible in full. The things we've seen... Even just the war in Wutai for you, I'm sure, and... The past for me. The things Zack saw that took away his smile for the longest time... I wonder if people like us can ever actually recover like we want to. There's no forgetting, and sometimes no forgiving, either - It's an uphill struggle we have to deal with. But is there an end to it? I don't know. I'd like to hope so."

The pain, the heartaches, the nightmares... The struggle to feel whole, and in some cases, to feel human. The endless late nights just staring out the window, waiting for the racing thoughts and matching heartbeat to stop. The waking nightmares and memories, the traumas that popped into mind whenever they so felt like it, the inability to look at things without a tight chest and a fight to remember you're okay now...

"It's going to be okay." Was that said for her, or for him? Both? Sera wasn't sure, quickly turning her head to hopefully keep Sephiroth from seeing budding tears pricking her eyes with familiar stings. She was older, now; showing him tears wasn't something she wanted to do anymore, friend or not. She was stronger, now.

...Wasn't she?

"We'll be okay. We're not alone anymore. I promise."

#Questioning A Flower [Asks]#Warofthebeasts #IC; Sera #I sat down to write this and wanted to make it fluffy #Sera apparently had other ideas? XD #BUT SANKYUU FOR THIS <3 #I love how these two took to each other and stuck with this friendship like this #They're so soft with each other and it's so sweet? <3 #Though I love too how they've been down two different paths by the time CC's over and 7 itself starts #And Sera's still willing to look him in the eyes and say “I understand the pain”#Even though she's scared and wary and /hurt/#And I could babble on this for hours don't let me dude NEVER let me XD <3

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mimicsapprentice · 2 years

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ooo that's a trio i rarely see! very cool. i also found rift in your toyhouse and they're very pretty! all of the design previews in the family tree looked really nice actually :0 do you have a family dynamic in mind yet, besides what you mentioned already? them being half siblings sounds interesting (also mood with the pony mode, it's been Years yet i still think about mlp. . .)

I am sorry for how long it took me to get to this, I kind of had no ideas on what to say oops xd

Ahh thanks! I try to have different ships across all my next gen verses & since this verse, the Amverse, is made of polyamorous ships I ended up with this trio ^^ Yeah, I love all the designs I put into the family quite a lot. Shoutout to awesome designers in the MLP space <2

Since you mentioned it (and I was wanting to share anyways) here's said family tree :3

[Icon / headshot base by Aesthetic-static DA] From left to right we have! Top row: [HC designs] - Cheerilee [She/they] - Party Favour [He/they] - Rarity [She/her] - AppleJack [she/they/any] Bottom row: - Sunny Social [She/her • Sun/shine 2in1] - Vintage Acclaim [She/her • pop/star 2in1 • +] - Bubblegum 'Curio' Flair [she/they/it/X+] - Wistful Mellow [He/him] - Rift [she/they/it]. (Vintage is a DTA design I don't own yet but her character stands no matter what; even if her design ends up changing. Links are to their toyhouse profiles.)

Onto family dynamics stuff! It might be a little disorganised, sorry about that. Under a read more because oops somehow it is very long lol

Okay so! AJ & Rarity are divorced but they're still very good friends and care a lot for each other. For this reason, as well as the split custody of Rift, AJ is like an Aunt/Uncle/Bibi to all the other kids. They would come over every so often, this actually increased once AJ and their new partners (Tempest & Rutherford) had kids of their own. Both families being raised pretty closely together, the kids very much like considering each other to be like cousins.

Party favour is mostly the stay at home dad. Since his job is much more casual and has a looser schedule, he has the most time to spend with the kids at home. He loves it and wouldn't trade it for the world; spending time with his kids is the light of his life. He's forever grateful to be at a point where he's healed enough to have such a wonderful family.

Cheerilee still works as a teacher and therefore is home the least, though she does have the clearest cut schedule of when she'll be home. Though, while they were young and went to her school she still ended up seeing them a fair bit.

Rarity has the most unpredictable schedule. Though at least if need be she can work from home; since she has a sewing studio set up there. She makes her best effort to get home as early as possible but it isn't always possible, customers can be unexpected and she does occasionally lose track of time. Her family are always there to make sure she doesn't work herself to hard though.

Rift does sometimes feel a little awkward when she's with the RariCheerFavour family, always has a niggling sense of being out of place. Seeing as AJ has primary custody and it spends the most time with that side of her family. Though that's less to do with anything anyone has actually said or done, or ever thought, and more to do with being pretty self-conscious. It's the kind of pony who can't help but internalise what other say about them, the good and the bad. She loves all of her siblings on both sides of the family though, despite everything she would do anything to make them happy.

Rift, as mentioned previously, is the closest to Curio out of all of them. At first glance you wouldn't think they would get along, with how outspoken and bold Curio is versus how gentle and inhibited Rift is. In reality Curio helps Rift to feel more like herself, less need to hide and aspects of itself that might be considered unpleasant or weird. Plus Curio won't stand for anyone saying a single bad thing about Rift, or any of their family for that matter. They also share similar experiences of being on the social fringes, of being the 'weird kids'. They're also pretty good at teaching X to manage aspects of Xs more impulsive nature; all in all they're good for each other. Plus they have a shared love of poetry; Rift being one of the few that Curio will consistently show its pieces too.

The eldest of the family is of course Sunny Social. She was actually born to Cheerilee & Party before they started dating Rarity, she's actually pretty close in age to Rift. Sun works as a personal stylist out of / in conjunction with Rarity's boutique; she's very much a charismatic and social pony. Sun ended up pretty close with Rarity because they share interests; she loved watching her working and going to work with her. Sun loves playing 'dress-up' with shines younger siblings; to the extent they let sun at least. She's generally pretty easy going and casual so she gets along well with all her siblings, including Rift.

Sunny probably gets along best with Vintage, who is the next oldest in the family. That's because Vintage is also kind of into fashion, or at least values / trusts her sister's opinion on it. Pop was always the one who enjoyed letting Sunny dress star up the most. She was also one of the first ponies that Sunny came out to, Vintage's perceptiveness helping star to notice that something was up with her sibling.

Sunny isn't as close with her 2 younger siblings but she still very much gets along with them both. Sun doesn't share generally share interest with Curio but the 2 of them do still have a bond forged on a mutual secret indulgence of trashy TV; she lovings hearing all of Xs opinions of it while also using it to help unwind shines mind.

Sunny and Mellow are both very social and friendly so they get along easily. Plus, Mellow lets her style him in exchange for doing stuff he wants; such as being taken to the mall / arcade or gaming with him.

Vintage is probably the most ambitious of the family, pop certainly has dreams of making it big someday. At least, she thought she did? Her family has always been more than supportive of her dreams and ambitions; Rarity even introducing her to famous DJ Vinyl Scratch, whom pop now works for. Though in that journey stars realised that maybe being a personal assistant is actually more her speed after all. It turns out it something she's incredibly good at, designed for her almost. Luckily she has ponies she can turn to for advice on what to do.

She adores her younger brother, Mellow. He's always hyping her up and is more than willing to listen to her sets and give her feedback, plus he enjoys the stories from her work. He might not have much life experience but he's the one stars been talking to about her current indecision, he let her know that's okay to not know what. Pop also plans on talking with her parents but will always appreciate his help.

Vintage also has a pretty good relationship with Curio, they have a friendly competitive vibe between them. There's a lot of friendly ribbing and teasing that occurs; they definitely have the strongest sibling rivalry in the family. Though it's all in good nature; they definitely have each others backs when need be.

Curio loves its family, even if X does end up causing them some unintentional trouble. They're very much the kind of teen that requires phone calls to parents for smart mouthing at staff or organising protests of stupid rules. It's usually Party whose relegated to picking her up and dealing with the school, being the stay at home dad. He is pretty much always on Xs side, even if he might disagree with the ways it expresses its opinions sometimes.

Curio is a very curious pony, they love learning about everything and gathering new information. It's one of the bonds that ties them close to Xs Ma; no matter how much she's been working Cheeri is always happy to set aside some times to teach x about something new. Her love of learning is very much encouraged by her ma.

Curio is extremely protective of its younger brother, she's not afraid to stand up to anyone who might be causing him problems. She knows he's pretty impressionable and agreeable, she just worries someone will end up hurting him because of it.

Curio does in a lot of ways feel like they don't fit in with their family but also knows that they still love and accept X in spite of the differences.

Mellow is very much a dads boy; he thinks the words of his dad and gets along with him best out of his entire family. Sometimes he does wish he had a brother but he still loves his older sisters very much; even if they're a little overprotective of him. He loves getting them to participate in his hobbies or interests and is more than willing to do favours or what they want in return. He's the hype-man of the family, willing to offer unconditional support and cheer no matter what endeavours any of them are working on.

Thinks Rift is really cool and wishes they were nicer to itself; I mean, can't she see how awesome she is?

#oc tag #omg the oc lore #where did this all come from lol /lh #it took me like 2-3 hours to write all this out /sob/#anon what powers did you summon forth from my brain /lh /pos #mlp next gen #mlp oc #and that is all she wrote #because I'm getting tired and my brain is turning into mush xd #also hi my tumblr broke completely broke while I was trying to post this. I had to switch browsers to make it work /sob/#i also did not proof ready any of this so if it is nonsense I am so sorry #my art

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cuubism · 6 months

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work is driving me fucking insane this week, so here's this silly self-indulgent thing i wrote to distract myself.

the spirit of this post is here as well XD

coffee shop au, meet cute, literally falling for your crush

In retrospect, forgetting to eat for three meals in a row wasn't Dream's best move. Not that he'd done it on purpose. Hence the forgetting. But taking time to cook always felt so wasteful when he was finally making progress on his novel. He could eat later, whenever the hyperfocus burned itself out.

The only thing that eventually got him out of the house was caffeine. He'd run out of both coffee and tea in the dysfunction of this week, and thus was forced to venture out to the cafe a few blocks away from his flat in search of enough energy to keep him awake for a few more hours.

Technically, there was a place that was closer. There was also a grocery store, where he could have bought coffee grounds. But Dream took the excuse to go a bit further, and not for the quality of the coffee.

He and Johanna, on the occasion she could convince Dream to leave the house and attempt to be part of society, had first started coming to this particular coffee shop because Johanna's girlfriend Rachel worked there. But Dream had to admit that what really kept him coming back, including at times when he wasn't being dragged along by Johanna, was another employee entirely.

Hob.

Hob was, in Rachel's words, "a perfectly nice guy but I don't know why you're so obsessed with him." In Johanna's words, Hob was, "quite fit, I can't lie, but I really thought you'd have gone for someone who's a bit more of an arts gremlin like you."

In Dream's words, Hob was perfect. He always had a smile for Dream, and a kind word or compliment, and he had kind eyes, and nice hands, and was terribly handsome. Dream had never been particularly attracted to masculinity before but Hob was proving him wrong over and over. He looked like he was strong enough to pick Dream up, and that did all sorts of exciting things to Dream's insides. Dream may or may not have had an actual dream about Hob holding his hand.

Hob also made terrible coffee. But Dream didn't care. He took whatever coffee Hob made him, whether the grounds were burnt, or it had way too much cream, or was vastly overbrewed, and drank it quite happily, sneaking looks at Hob all the while. Because Hob's coffee might be awful, but he always smiled at Dream as he gave it to him, and sometimes their hands brushed and it sent a thrilling little shock up Dream's arms. And anything Hob made for him felt made with love, he could tell, it was like a homemade birthday cake with uneven frosting and an undercooked part in the middle.

It was possible Dream should care more about the quality of the coffee and less about the symbolism of it.

In any case, he went to the coffee shop, underfed and undercaffeinated, hoping that Hob would be there, even if it meant he would have to down another cup of extremely bad coffee. Hob should be there, he did usually work Tuesday afternoons, not that Dream had memorized his schedule like a stalker or anything.

He stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling, and found that he was right, Hob was there. A thrill of delight ran through him. Dream did not often feel anything as carefree or joyous as delight, but he was very sleep-deprived, and Hob was there, so there it was. Rachel was also working, and waved to him as he stepped up to the counter. As she and Johanna were both very aware of his embarrassing crush on Hob--much to Dream's chagrin--she didn't come over to take his order, instead leaving him to Hob.

"Hey, it's Dream, right?" said Hob, wiping off his hands on a towel and leaning on the counter, looking at Dream with a smile. He knows my name, Dream thought with a heady rush, then remembered that Hob was obligated to write it on his coffee cup, and that Dream came here often, and it didn't have to mean anything. "Dark roast with almond milk and caramel?"

How Hob could be so diligent about remembering his order and so terrible at making it, Dream didn't know. "That's correct," he said.

Behind Hob, Rachel mouthed keep going, which Dream took to mean that if he wanted to get anywhere he had to attempt to engage Hob in slightly more conversation than his usual coffee-ordering script. This was unfortunately true, particularly since Hob had already nullified half the sentences Dream would usually say by predicting his order.

"You remembered my order," he said, which felt like a reasonably normal response, definitely better than do you want to see if you can pick me up? which would probably be creepy. Rachel gave him a thumbs up.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," said Hob, and winked at him. Was he flirting? Dream would like to think so, but he wasn't usually very good at picking up on that sort of thing. Why would Hob be interested in him anyway? Perhaps he meant that Dream was memorable in a bad way, that he was annoying or weird, or--

Dream still hadn't responded.

"I am not trying to be," he said, and behind Hob, Rachel sighed. It was true, though. In most areas of life Dream preferred to go unnoticed. It was only Hob's attention that made him feel all bubbly inside.

"Task failed successfully," said Hob, "because I can't stop noticing you."

Was Dream... still succeeding at the conversation? That was truly unexpected, that he hadn't already turned Hob off by being utterly unsuitable for human society.

"Is that a good thing?" Dream asked.

"Is it?" asked Hob.

Undoubtedly it was. Dream liked the thought of Hob noticing him. He liked the thought of Hob remembering his name, and his coffee order, and when he came into the cafe, with as much detail as Dream had memorized his schedule. He did not normally like having people's eyes on him but he liked the thought of Hob looking. Of Hob caring about what he saw. It made him feel interesting and worthy, and sort of giddy and lightheaded--

Oh. No. That wasn't Hob's attention. That was the fact that the last meal he'd eaten had been a sleeve of biscuits for breakfast two days ago, and that he'd been on his feet for a long time, or what constituted a long time when one had only had a sleeve of biscuits two days ago to eat. And he hadn't slept, and he'd had quite an exciting few minutes just now, and apparently this all meant that his body had decided it needed to check out for a moment, thanks, goodbye.

Inconvenient timing, Dream thought, as everything went sort of spinny and blurry. He was making such progress! He really thought Hob might even like him, and falling on the ground was not going to help his case.

Inevitable now, though. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Hob's face, expression shifting from amusement to concern, and really, there were worse ways to go out.

He woke up not much later, or at least it felt like little time had passed, to find himself lying down on a couch in what seemed to be the cafe's back office, as best as his overtaxed mind could gather. And Hob was crouched beside him, looking at him worriedly, Rachel leaning over his shoulder, face likewise creased in concern.

Dream wondered how he had gotten to the couch. Had Hob carried him there? It was a pleasant thought, though he wished he could have experienced it in person.

"You know," said Hob, "there are easier ways to get out of talking to me than blacking out." The words were light, but he sounded genuinely stressed out about it.

Dream immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry."

Hob chucked him on the cheek, a light touch that felt fond. "Not what I meant. Are you okay?"

Dream carefully pushed himself up to sitting, Hob watching all the while, hands hovering over him but not touching. Dream sat up. His head didn't spin. "I am okay," he said.

"Probably didn't eat anything today, huh?" said Rachel. She didn't look quite as concerned as Hob did, she was used to Dream's habits. Meanwhile, for all Hob knew, Dream had a brain tumor and would imminently die.

"No," Dream admitted. "I was... occupied."

"Will you be okay here for a sec?" Hob asked, brow scrunching as if he truly thought Dream might just collapse again onto the floor without him. "I'll get you some water. Something to eat, too."

It was worth fainting in a public place, Dream thought, just to have Hob look at him with such care.

When Dream nodded, Hob hurried away to do just that.

Only now his crush was going to be one million times worse, and certainly not reciprocated, not after the scene he'd caused.

Beside him, Rachel was laughing, hiding it behind her hand.

"Is my suffering humorous to you?" Dream asked, but there was no heat in it, he was too busy looking after where Hob had disappeared.

"You should have seen it," she said. "He launched himself over the counter to catch you. Oh my god, I wish you could have witnessed it."

"Surely Hob would aid any customer in distress," Dream sniffed. But something turned over in his stomach, a little flutter of hope.

"Yeah but not literally vault the counter. It was terrific. I was worried he'd break a hip."

"I'm not that old," said Hob, coming back around the corner and crouching beside Dream again, water bottle and what looked like a chocolate muffin clasped in his hands.

Rachel was unrepentant. "You're lucky you didn't wind up on the floor, too."

"You caught me," said Dream, staring into Hob's eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Rich brown, like coffee with a dash of cream.

Dream might still be a bit lightheaded.

"Of course," said Hob, and uncapped the water, handing it to him. Dream took slow sips, realizing as he did that he hadn't drank any water all day. "I'm fond of you, you know. Can't let you hit your head on the floor."

Fond. Dream might faint again.

"Should I take you to hospital or something?" Hob asked, still so concerned it was making that floaty feeling bubble up again in Dream's chest.

"I will be fine here," he said.

"He just fell for you, that's all," said Rachel, and Dream glared at her. She just smiled back. "Swooned and everything."

"I did not swoon," Dream protested.

"You kind of did, actually," said Hob. "I've never seen someone just crumple so dramatically."

"Oh, have you seen many people faint, then?"

"No, but--"

"I'm going to man the till," said Rachel, patting Dream on the arm. "I don't think I want to be in the middle of this. Let me know if you want me to take you home, Dream." She winked at him. "Unless you'd rather Hob do it."

Johanna was never this meddlesome, Dream thought bitterly. She just made fun of him and left it at that.

Then he was alone with Hob, which was both an exciting and anxiety-inducing state of affairs. He clutched his water bottle for balance.

"Um. I got you this," said Hob, and handed him the muffin. "Made them this morning."

Dream was really quite hungry, so despite Hob's poor coffee record, he took a bite of the muffin.

And this was how he learned that Hob was utterly lacking in coffee-making skills because all his talent was in baking.

The chocolate was so rich, it tasted more like cake than a muffin. the chocolate chips melted on his tongue, and he had to force himself not to just immediately take another huge bite. He really was so hungry. Perhaps, now that he knew he could get such things here, he would have a reason to visit the cafe other than just Hob -- and a reason to eat breakfast, too.

"Good?" said Hob, and Dream nodded, licking the melted chocolate from his lips, and he didn't fail to notice Hob watching the movement of his tongue. Perhaps Johanna and Rachel were right, and it wasn't hopeless, even if Dream's best attempt at flirting back was collapsing onto the floor.

He did not know what possessed him then. Perhaps it was the chocolate. Perhaps it was the worry still lingering in Hob's warm eyes, or maybe he had just hit his head and forgotten about it. Either way, he leaned forward in his seat, and kissed Hob on the lips.

His lips were so soft. Just as Dream had dreamt they would be. Hob made a sound of surprise against Dream's mouth, and caught him by the arms so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. Which was a definite possibility, though now the lightheadedness was not caused by a calorie deficit but rather because he was kissing Hob.

Hob who was kissing him back, too. Softening against his mouth, licking the remaining chocolate from Dream's lips. Would Hob hug him, too? If he had already caught him? Dream had fantasized so much about being hugged by Hob.

Only one way to find out. He leaned into Hob's arms, and Hob caught him again, wrapping his arms around Dream's back. He was so warm, and strong. He was wonderful.

"It is a good thing," he said into Hob's shoulder.

"What is?"

"You noticing me."

Hob chuckled. The sound rumbled through Dream's chest. "It's not hard to do. I've been eyeing you for a while, you know. I always hoped you'd talk to me more."

"I am not very good at talking more," said Dream.

"I think I've got that now." Hob pulled back to look at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Falling over is more your style."

"I only faint on occasion," Dream protested, which only seemed to amuse Hob more.

"Well. If talking is a bit tough, maybe we can go for a walk sometime?" He tucked a strand of Dream's hair behind his ear, and Dream shivered. Hob clocked it, too, and let his hand rest on the back of Dream's head, fingers curled in his hair as his gaze flicked to Dream's lips and back up. "Or. Something else?"

Dream thought something else might make him spontaneously combust. That might have to wait a bit, at least until he could cope with Hob looking at him like that without feeling like he was about to explode in a flurry of butterflies.

"A walk, if you will hold my hand," he said, and Hob smiled, and took his hand, and Dream learned that all dreams really could come true at once.

#this is SO silly #hob is literally the most average guy and dream is salivating with lust and completely ferally obsessed with him #it's mutual tho dream is literally a gremlin and hob is like 😍 wow he's beautiful he's like an angel #and then they lived happily ever after #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #sex scene between these two would be funny as fuck i think hob would touch dream once and he would come instantly and maybe also faint

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 year

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Onesie Party

SUMMARY: Ace and Deuce, with a hint from Cater and financially support from Kalim, gave you a costume made Grim onesie. And decided to throw a surprise (to only you) onesie party at Ramshackle Dorm and invite all the students you knew. Onesies were the mandatory dress code!

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students. (Leona is mentioned because, let’s face it, he would only wear a onesie if he was forced to)

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader.

WORD COUNT: 3.780

COMMENTS: I'm new at posting here on tumblr. This is the first thing I write as a fan of something. I already read other things like this here and I enjoyed them. One night I was wearing my own onesie and got this idea. I also like to write so, why not?

I hope you enjoy reading. I did enjoy writing it.

BTW: English isn't my first language.

You were on Ramshackle Dorm. It was already late night, and you were getting ready to go to bed when you decided to make one last check at your Magicam.

You had a massage from Cater. He sent to you a post. It was a photo of someone wearing a black cat onesie with red fire in its ears.

Cater: It reminded me of Gri-Chan

Cater: they're making custom onesie!!

Cater: a Grim onesie would be so adorbs!!!!!

Cater: and you'd look so cuuute on one ;)

That made you giggle. You checked the post just to confirm what you´ve already thought.

You: They’re sooo CUTE!!!

You: I would love to have a Grim onesie but…

You: they’re so expensive :(

You: That and Grim would probably tease me about it and his ego would inflate even more -.-

Cater: hahahahaha He would do that because he would love to see you in that too XD

Cater: but yah... it's a shame it's so expensive :(

Cater: Ow... I need to go... Don't want to lose my head to be up past hours

Cater: nighty night~

You: good night ~

Little did you know Cater would tell your two dummy best friends about the onesie thing.

It was a chilly night, some days after that chat, and the sun was just a few seconds of set, when you heard a knock on the front door.

Grim smelled the air. “I smell FOOD!” he said, rushing to the door.

You hear Ace and Deuce's voices. And then you see them appear in the lounge where you were sitting on the sofa. If you were drinking something, you would have spit it out or choked on your laughter.

Besides having some bags with snacks, they were also wearing onesies. Ace had an ace of hearts onesie and Deuce had a two of spades onesie. They say that line of onesies were made based on the Queen of Hearts card soldier.

Ace was loud when he greeted you. Deuce was probably still embarrassed about the situation.

“You look so adorbs!” You said, purposely imitating Cater, and laughing. That made Deuce blush a little.

“HA ha ha. I know right?” Ace said, “But don’t think can escape from join us.”

“I would love to, but unfortunately for you, I don't have a onesie.”

“Are you sure?” Ace took out one of the things Deuce carried in one of the bags.

“OI!” Deuce protested. And Ace threw you a paper bag. Like a package that arrived in the mail. When you picked it up, you realized that by the softness, inside the bag there should be some kind of clothing.

You opened the bag while they took the snacks out of the bags and placed them on the table. And unfurling a gray onesie with a trifurcated tail, blue fire coming out of the cat ears and a black and white striped bow around the neck, which the zipper handle being a pendant.

“Don't just stand there looking at it. Go dress it before the party starts!”

“Party?! What party?!”

Ace had a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Sorry, (Y/N).” Deuce said, “I wanted to tell you, but they wanted it to be a surprise.”

“They? You mean there more people than you two who are involved in this?”

“Of course.” Ace said, “That thing was expensive. Who do you think we tricked to… I mean, who do you think offered to pay for the whole thing when he knew about it?”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. And someone else nocked at the door. Either it was a huge coincidence or a great timing. You put the onesie on the sofa and went to open the door.

Kalim’s greeting was as warm as always. He was wearing a red parrot onesie. He had his signature smile, until he saw your clothes.

“Oh, did we come too soon? Ace and Deuce haven’t arrived yet? I hope I didn't ruin the surprise.”

“Oh no. They are here. I just haven't put on my onesie yet.”

He sighed with relief “I got scared for a second. Then go try it one! I can’t wait to see how it looks on you!”

You smiled “Ok, I’ll go. After you enter.”

Kalim wasn't carrying anything, but the person who came in after him and greeted you had about three boxes stacked in his arms. You controlled your laughter because you knew he wouldn't like that. But Jamil looked so cute in his dark red snake onesie. You felt the need to say something.

“Don't be mad at me, but you look kinda cute on that.”

“D-don’t worry. I’m not mad” and he quickly balanced the boxes on one arm to pull the hood up to cover his blushing face with the other. “Thanks.” He whispered. That just made it worse. He was now even cuter.

You went to one of the empty rooms to change to your new onesie. When you returned to the lounge all the boys ware looking at you the same way, but Kalim was the one saying what probably all of them were thinking.

“Aw! You look so cute (Y/N)!”

“Myahaha. Looks like we find the perfect uniform for my hench-human.”

And before you could say something back, another knocks the door. You were so excited about seeing another NRC student in a cute onesie than you almost rush to the door.

OMG. Now it was Trey and Cater on a three of clubs and four of diamonds onesies. They'll tell you that the four card soldier onesies pack was on discount, so they took it. And of course, Trey brought one of his cakes. Like Deuce, Trey was a little embarrassed. But Cater...

“OGS, you look cuter that I thought! I need a pic of us (Y/N)!”

(OGS = Oh Great Seven)

They entered and after them… surprise of surprises:

“Riddle?!” It was already too late to try to sound less cooked. And he was wearing a red hedgehog onesie. “I-I didn’t thought… um…”

“Think, (Y/N), I didn't think.” He corrected you. maybe because he would anyways, or maybe to try to soften the soft blush that was already starting to form. “Well, since you always go to our unbirthday parties when invited, and sometimes even help preparing them, I thought the minimum I could do to show my appreciation was to attend to one of your parties.”

After he entered, something on the back of the onesie caught your eye. You weren't looking at that, swear! But that little round tail was so cute.

A few minutes later, new knockings on the door.

“Kalim?” You asked, “How many people did you invite?”

“Well, to be honest, I was thinking about inviting all the students at school. But Jamil said that you could not like that especially because it was a surprise party, so he suggested only invited the people you know.”

You smiled at Jamil as saying thank you.

“So I only invited… um, let me see… Jamil, Riddle, Trey, Cater, Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Vil, Rook, Epel…”

Another knock interrupted Kalim’s list. Whoever it was from that list, it was better to open the door and fast.

Ruggie was wearing a hyena onesie. You were as happy to see him as he was to see you but... “Isn’t it a little bit… weird for you?” You asked.

“Hey! I'm a very loyal guy to my roots. Shehe.”

“That and Leona-senpai said it was either that or a lion onesie.” Jack said. He will revel to you that Leona was the one paying for Ruggie's onesie. and he wanted to buy the lion one for Ruggie, just to mess with him, but eventually Ruggie convinced him to buy the hyena one. Jack himself was wearing a dark blue onesie with little stars and little moons that glowed in the dark, what made you look confused and with a lot of questions at him.

Jack blushed. “L-listen, it's a long story. It was the only thing I had. I bought this a couple of years ago because of my little sister. I can explain it later...”

You didn’t saw anyone else with them. “Oh, what a shame Leona couldn’t come.” You say to Ruggie with a smirk on your face. Despite you really wanting to see him in a cute onesie, you know he wouldn’t do such thing.

And speaking of him, if you’re questioning why Leona would buy Ruggie a onesie just for that party. They made a deal. And Ruggie’s part of the deal was sneakily snap some pictures of your pretty figure on that cute onesie for Leona. And maybe he would save some copies to himself too.

Them entered and you saw that Ruggie’s onesie covered his entire back. So, his little tail was inside. Unlike Jack's tail, which poked out of his onesie and struggled not to wag like a happy dog’s one.

After the two of them entered the lounge, Ace started messing with Jack, and Ruggie started messing with Riddle because of they’re onesies. Nothing to make neither of them too mad, but it made you star worrying about other possible gests.

Not long after, you open the door again.

“Awww... why an azarashi-chan onesie? You should have got a Shrimp one.” Floyd whined. “Ne Jade?”

“He Floyd.” His Twin agreed “Oh, but you still look adorable on that direbeast onesie.” After Ruggie, it was no surprise seeing them on eels onesies. The funniest thing about their onesies was the feet getting out of the onesie while the tail continued a little further back.

But honestly, even more funny was Azul in front of them. Was he using an octopus onesie? Unfortunately for you, no. He was wearing a… business onesies! A onesie that looked like a suit. How did he even find one of those? You could have asked if you didn't just start laughing.

Azul looked a little upset about your laugh.

“I told you that one was stupid.” Floyd said. “You should have got a cute one.”

“I didn’t want a cute one.” Azul said back to Floyd, and then asked you: “Is there something wrong about the onesie I chose?”

“No, no.” You assured him, still giggling a little. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that I never saw a onesie liked that. I didn’t even know those existed.”

“I would rather see Azul on an octopus onesie myself as well.” Jade said with his signature smile that only the people who knew him knew it was a mocking smile.

“Absolutely not!” Azul reiterated. And as if trying to change the subject of the conversation. “Though, (Y/N), despite the preferences of my colleagues, I may say that you look wonderful in those clothes.” Oh, he tried to control the blush, but little did he know it was stronger than his wishes.

The Tweels smiled mischievously but didn’t say anything about it. Looking at them and thinking about the people that were already on the lounge, you realised something. You opened your arms in a signal for them not to enter yet.

“Wait, just… Can I please ask you something?” you opened your arms in a signal for them not to enter yet. But you quickly remember when you saw their, let's say, villainous smiles. You wanted a favor from the Fish Mafia, hum?

“Of course, prefect.” Azul said with his charming smile. “Anything you wish. You already should know that.”

There was only one thing you could use to your advantage when dealing with those three. And especially in this situation. They soften when their poor unfortunate souls are cute.

“Can you please not anger anyone? You know, teasing them about the onesies? I wanted everyone to enjoy the party.” You asked with only the necessary amount of puppy eyes.

“Anger anyone?” Floyd repeated, then smiled. “Is kingyo-chan here?”

Time to increase the puppy eyes, directed at both at Floyd and Azul. And while Azul was thinking you thought of a possible offer to Floyd. “I'll buy a shrimp onesie!”

Floyd’s smile softened and warmed. “Really~? And would you visit me with it dressed at Octavinelle whenever I ask you~?”

“Not whenever you ask.” You stood.

“And what if we set a maximum limit?” Jade said, as if that deal was of his interest as well. “Once a week maximum?”

“Once a month.”

“Twice a month” Floyd pouted.

“Fine. Twice a month maximum.”

“Okay~! What do you think Azul?”

“Um… Allow me to be the one selling the onesie to you, and we have a deal.”

You signed. “Fine.”

“It’s a deal then, my dear (Y/N). It’s always a pleasure to do them with you.”

If it makes you feel better, remember that you just made a dela with them while everyone wearing onesies. And little did Azul know he would be teased for his choice of onesie as well. At least Jamil had that to counterattack.

Next knocks on the door.

“Beauté! Oh, Trickster, your onesie is magnifique! Such clothing specially designed based on a close friend! What a wonderful show of beautiful bonds.” And Rook did it again, made you blush with his flourish. “Ah~” he whispered at you with a smile. “And of course, you could get even more beautiful.” He was wearing a light purple bear onesie.

“Rook, don’t spoil (Y/N) already with your complements.” Vil said. He was wearing a peacock onesie. He looked at you and smiled. “But I agree, it is a pretty cosy sight to behold. I even dare say you may look better than Grim himself.”

You smiled, still blushing. “Don’t say that in front of him.”

They entered and finally you see your fellow Pomefiore freshman. Epel was wearing a purple onesie with white lines with little drawings (like a Christmas onesie, but purple instead of red). But the biggest surprise was seeing him with his excited smile. You would think he from all people wouldn't like a party like this. I mean, it's kind of hard looking anything other than cute on a onesie. But he seems looking forward to the party.

“Ah! I love your onesie.” You tell him.

“Thanks! My grandma did it for me some time ago. I never had the opportunity to use it with other people wearing their own onesies too!”

“I also told him that he wouldn't need to worry about being the only one being called cute on this party.” Vil said.

“Oh! I'm eager to see what our dear schoolmates chose to wear on this night.”

“Um, Rook?” You ask before he continued followed the other two to the lounge.

“Oui?”

“I’m curious. Epel is wearing a onesie that his grandmother made. Vil is wearing, well, the animal that I most associated with him.” You giggle. “But I was wondering why you’ve chose a bear?”

He smiled at you. “I’m glad I picked your curiosity.” Rook had his, let’s say, hunter smile on his face. “Well, since you’re the host, I may tell you. You see, I always found fascinating by how a huge beast like a bear could turn into a soft and cute toy for children. Both an efficient predator and a fluffy friend. I thought it was a good fit for both the party and me. Wouldn't you agree, trickster?”

“Indeed.” you smiled, slightly worried.

Some minutes later, more knock on the door.

“HIII, prefect!” And you thought Ortho couldn't look cuter. He was wearing a magenta onesie with little horns, and with the ways he was moving you were able to glance a pointy tail behind him as well. He even changed his flames hair colour to match the onesie. “Wow! The Grim-san onesie is so cool! It looks so good on you.”

"Thank you. Your onesie is so cool too."

“Ha ha, thank you. They are from characters we really like. We thought it would be cool to matching clothes for this kind of party.”

“We? Matching?”

“And I’m already regretting that.” You heard a familiar deep voice saying somewhere outside.

“Ni-san! Come on, you said you wanted to show everyone how superior our onesies are.” Then he imitated Idia's voice. “There's no way those guys have better onesies than this. I personally upgraded mine from their standard self to accommodate my shut-in needs.”

“Fine, fine… you don't need to info-dump everything in one line of dialog.”

Instead of waiting for Idia to came out of his hiding place, you snick out your head to find him crouching to the wall close to the door.

“Heep! N-no need to jump-scare me.” He was wearing a onesie similar to Ortho’s, but his was teal, and the horns were longer than Ortho's. He was using the hoodie to hide his face, despite the long blue flames of hair that lit him. You could also see the pointy tail lying on the ground.

“Sorry.” Your eyes widened. “Your onesies are so cool! And the fact they’re matching is so adorable.”

Idia looked up at you, saw your cat ears with flames that match his own hair, and the ends of that same hair began to turn pink.

“(Y/N), could you help me convince my brother to enter the party. Please.” The please wasn't needed, he was asking you with his cute little brother's voice, and you existed heart couldn’t say no to that. That and you also wanted Idia in the party.

“Um… If I tell you some of the onesies others are wearing, would you feel more comfortable?”

“That could be considered a spoiler but… yah… If the game offers you some hint about the element of your opponent’s attacks, you’re a noob for not taking advantage of that.” And with it he at least got up. Making you be the one looking up.

“Let me see… Ace, Deuce, Trey and Cater are matching to. They’re card soldiers.”

“Um… I think I saw the pack online…”

“Riddle is a red hedgehog.”

“WHA-? Riddle-shi is here?! And on a hedgehog onesie?!”

“Right? I was as chocked as you.”

“Well, from the small sample my theory still holds.” Idia whispered with a smug smile.

“So, will you enter with me Ni-san?”

“Y-yes. I-I can go with you.”

Ortho happily thanked you and tugged his big brother by his onesie sleeve. After they entered you could see in both onesies a little pair of demon wings.

You were still waiting for someone else. But it seemed to be taking longer than the others.

“Kalim. Please tell me that you didn’t forget to invite de guys from Diasomnia.”

“I could swear I invited everyone… AH! That's what I forgot to tell Lilia in music club meeting!”

“What?! You didn’t invite them?!”

“Don’t warry, (Y/N).” Jamil said to you. “I made sure to go to the music club room after their meeting was over and I came across Lilia on the corridor. I can assure you that I informed him of the party.”

You could hug and kiss this boy right there and then and it shown on your eyes. “Oh Jamil, you’re the best!” he said it was nothing as he hid his face in his onesie's hoodie.

Despite that, you were only relieved when you finally heard another knock on the door. You open it with an expectant smile on your face and...

Nobody?

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Aaaahh! Lilia!” you scold.

Lilia just did one of his popped out of nowhere upside-down things. This time appearing on the top of your door trim.

“Fuhuhu. Forgive me, but I couldn’t resist.” He said as he turned to land his feet on the floor. He was wearing a black dragon onesie, with fluffy horns and tail and a purple belly.

You looked at him, he looked at you.

“You look so cute!” you both said to each other at the same time. And while you were laugh it off, three tallest figures appeared behind Lilia.

They were all wearing the same black dragon onesies. The only exception was that Malleus' onesie didn't have the fluffy horns. Instead, there were holes on the hoodie specially made for his real horns take the place of the fake ones. He had his charming, delighted smile on. The smile he always has when he's invited for something.

“Indeed, that is certainly a flattering attire. Especially on you, Child of Man.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and blush. “Come on in! I want to see your onesies better.”

“HA!” Sebek yelled. “A human capable of understand the grandiosity of waka-sama to be willing to admire his figure in such admirable garment.” He was probably calling the onesie admirable because it was design based on the dragon form of the Thorn Fairy.

This also made a sleeping Silver standing next to Malleus wake up. He sighed. “I knew this onesie was too comfortable.” He was the last one entering the hall.

It was funny seeing Sebek so proud for using a dragon’s onesie alongside his Waka-sama. Seeing sleepy Silver on that onesie was one of the cutest sights of the night. But you also felt sorry for him because he was struggling more than usual to stay awake.

And Malleus, the warm way he was looking at you on your Grim onesie plus how cute he was on his, you suddenly felt like hugging him. He would probably like it. Sebek wouldn't.

You told them they could join the others on the lounge, and they started walking there. But you saw Malleus staying behind with you, and with a little help from Lilia, the other two didn't realise it. The moment they walked in the lounge you heard Sebek starting an argument with Ace about their onesies.

“Is something wrong, Tsunotarou?”

“Do you remember me giving you permission to touch my horns?”

“Yes.” And you already did it once or twice.

“I know they are part of your suit, but would you allow me to touch your ears?”

It took you a moment to finally answer with a wanna-be smug smile. “You can touch them, if you're willing to suffer the consequences for the audacity.” And you even dared to try to strike one of Malleus' powerful poses.

“Ha ha ha ha.” You successfully made him give you one of his genuine laughs. “Fine then. I have never been one to cowered over anything.” He got closer to you, reached out his hands and started petting your cat ears.

And while he was entertained by that, you hugged him. He widened his eyes looking down at you on his chest.

“The consequences.” You told him. What made him giggled and return the hug.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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cambion-companion · 7 months

Note

could I request for you to write an scenario in which Raphael does not die to Tav nor their party, but in an other similarly humiliating circumstances, and Tav when learning about this desperately goes to save Raphael from his father by bargaining with Mephistopheles? (hilariously in a very sad way, I assume this, is the only moment that Mephistopheles would ever "value" Raphael's life, but then again that is devils for you) and Raphael's confusion at the whole thing, someone taking a terrible bargain to save him, just… because they… like him…??? (bonus points, if Tav still has a crown to willingly give Raphael XD)

It's beat up Raphael hours huh? (also Korilla will be fine)

Hi there love. This turned from a drabble into a oneshot haha

Have fun running to Cania to pick up your wayfaring devil!

Raphael x reader (gn)

Korilla had come to you.

Broker and bruised, battered and bloody. Her long curly hair matted with mud and dried viscous.

“Help him.” Her first words, rasped from a throat raw from screams.

“Korilla!” You caught her weight as her knees buckled, lowering her gently to the ground. The Dwarven woman wasn’t your friend by any means, but she had been your ally. “Who needs my help?” You couldn’t fathom who she might be referring to.

Surely it wasn’t Raphael. It couldn’t possibly be the enigmatic, self-assured cambion.

Korilla’s answering rasp dispelled any doubt. “My master.”

A fog of shock settled over your mind, your hands loosening around Korilla’s shaking form. She whispered the truth into your ear, her bruised lips trailing her blood onto your clammy skin. With fading voice Korilla told of the attack, Raphael’s demise and his imminent doom.

“Portal. Diabolist. Cania.” Korilla’s breaths grew short as she fought valiantly once more against the oncoming black.

“Hold on, Korilla. You’re going to be okay.”

“Save him.” She said again, her eyes slowly glossing over as the life left her broken body.

You cursed. The warlock’s last actions had been to find you in a desperate hope you’d help Raphael before he was consumed by his father. His father who just so happened to be an archdevil. Mephistopheles.

“Little shit could’ve mentioned that.” You grimaced, lowering Korilla’s body to rest upon the cold earth.

You stood, pinching the bridge of your nose as your thoughts whirled and clashed. Not only had the attackers killed Raphael, but they had also looted his house, stealing the Orphic hammer and the only hope you’d had of defeating the Elder Brain.

“Damn it.” You returned to your companions with the news. “Looks like we’re taking a rescue party to hell.”

“Who’s the damsel in distress?” Astarion asked, tilting his head as his red eyes flickered over your blood-flecked form.

“Raphael.”

The plan was to use as much stealth as possible. The vaults of Mephisto had been broken into not long ago, according to Raphael, so it was possible. A direct confrontation with the archdevil himself was out of the question.

The diabolist in Baldur’s Gate took some convincing, but in the end you were able to push enough gold across the counter to seal the deal.

“Very well. Though I warn you, you’ll not return alive or with your souls intact.”

“Yes, yes.” You waved the woman off, her visage reminding you of Korilla. “Believe me, I’ve heard it all before.” Your eyes scanned the musky shop. Do you have anything that will locate a specific fiend?”

With a Locate Creature spell scroll ready in your bag you watched as the diabolist created for you a portal. Ice crystals immediately crusted on the edge of the black abyss, the wind coming from the portal nearly freezing your shoes to the floor.

“Quickly, and remember the disguises!” She ushered you and your party through, the frigid darkness enveloping you with a grim finality.

Through cold halls you’d snuck, invisible fingers cold as death scraping along your back and through your hair as you passed beneath torches of blue flame.

Time lost all meaning here. Your eyes began to play tricks on you. The only thing keeping your mind focused was the spell lighting the edge of your vision with a warm glow, growing brighter as you hurried to where Raphael was being held.

An age, or an hour had passed.

The wrought iron door, so cold to the touch it burned, swung noiselessly inward, admitting you to an octagonal shaped room. On the far wall you saw him, his form dark, chained by one wrist to the wall.

“Raphael.” You hissed, unexplainable relief flooding your frozen veins when his head moved in response.

Your companions waited by the open doorway, keeping watch from the shadows. You snuck as quickly as you could to where Raphael was restrained. His glowing eyes looking down upon you with consternation before recognition slowly dawned across his sharp features.

You held up a hand, silencing him as he opened his mouth. Movement could be heard from outside the prison room. You were running out of time.

“Can you get us out of here if I free you?” You hissed, still keenly aware of the nature of the devil.

Raphael nodded, his tail moving to and fro in agitation. Something about his vitality seemed to be missing, you had never imagined seeing him in such a state. It was unsettling.

The matter of removing the singular shackle proved to be more challenging than you’d thought. Astarion’s lockpicking skills proved futile.

“It’s a magical seal.” Raphael breathed, his voice low yet sharp with anger born of desperation. “Now’s not the time to play the fool.”

You gave him a severe look which he matched right back at you, his eyes sparking flame.

You raised a hand to the ice-covered metal, about to dispel the magic surrounding the lock. “You owe me a favor. A big one. I don’t know yet what I will ask of you, but you will deliver. Understood?”

Raphael’s gaze scorched you for a moment, it was clear he was furious with his current predicament. But he had no choice, and both of you knew it.

He nodded curtly.

You cast your spell.

Raphael’s wrist broke free with the sharp sound of metal splintering. His hand closed tight around your arm, the dungeons of Mephisto melted away as you and your companions were yanked unceremoniously back to the material plane.

At least, your companions were. Deposited non-gently upon the hard ground of your camp.

Raphael kept hold of you. Taking you back to the foyer of his house. The house which still lay in semi ruin from its previous sacking.

He was angry. Each step he took crackled fire and promise of swift vengeance.

“Raphael…” You said hesitantly, following him down into the dining hall. “Raphael, Korilla-”

“Is dead.” Under the glow of firelight, you could properly see the state he was in. You winced when he turned to face you. “I know. Though not as dead as those who dared pillage my home, the fools.”

“Do you know who?” You remained wary as you watched him conjure an armchair and sink down into it.

Raphael ignored your question, he issued orders in the abrasive Infernal tongue, seemingly into thin air. His fingers clicked and a spark of flame licked around them. Unseen servants began bustling around, clearing the debris and wreckage. Setting the House of Hope back in order.

Raphael leveled his gaze upon you. His expression was not unkind, it was calculating. He had underestimated you and overestimated himself. Not a mistake he’d make again.

“Why?” No flowery words, no ado.

“I still need the hammer.” You had the response prepared, having known the question was coming.

“You could have hunted down the thieves without my help.” Raphael narrowed his hellfire eyes. “Why come to my aid?”

“Korilla asked me to. It was her dying wish.” You fidgeted under his piercing presence. “Besides, you’re a useful ally. I still need your help to save the world.”

Raphael arched a brow, unconvinced. “Half-truths are still considered lies, dear. But there are matters I must attend to.” He stood, restless.

“Will your father come for you again once he realizes you’re gone.” The question came before you could stop yourself.

“Concerned for me?” Raphael appraised you, a knowing tilt to his head. “No. He will not.”

You didn’t argue, Raphael was clearly on edge, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

You rubbed circles against your aching temple. “Well, seems we have some thieves to track down. A hammer to retrieve.”

Raphael looked as though he was biting back a sharp retort. He chewed on his words, looking you over. “Yes.” He growled, infernal fire flickering off his form. “You may watch as I peel their souls from the writhing mortal flesh.”

In an unexpected move, Raphael strode to you and took your hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles. His breath hot on your still chilled skin. “You may even assist me, if you so desire.” He straightened.

That was as close to a “thank you” as you were going to get.

You set your jaw grimly. “When do we start?”

#raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #fanfic #oneshot #bg3 one shot #house of hope #au

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tom-whore-dleston · 3 months

Text

Denial and Devotion

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x f. reader

Word Count: 880

This fic contains: preludes to smut, implied smut, amnesia, mentions of squirting and fingering, reader was a Soldier Boy fangirl (like me fr xD), toxic celebrity culture?

Summary: You are in denial that you slept with the Supe you used to crush on.

Notes: I'm just a girl that writes Soldier Boy fanfic at 2am knowing damn well I have work at 9am flksdghk this gif replays in my brain every waking moment of the day I literally hate how hot he is >:( This is my weekly contribution to @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt no. 241: Hour of Denial

The moment you rose from your slumber, you knew something was wrong. First off, you woke up in a room that you did not recognize. Then, you realized the cotton sheets of the unfamiliar bed clung close to your bare skin as if you had slept in it before.

You attempted to lift yourself out the bed, but your muscles were weak, soreness more prominent in your hips and thighs. As you winced in discomfort, your eyes widened upon the discolored love bites scattered over your body. Your eyes finally glanced to the opposite side of the bed, only to discover the person occupying it was none other than Soldier Boy.

When you were younger, Soldier Boy was your first crush. At the time, he was presumed dead, but your father would tell you stories about how he was one of the greatest superheroes to ever live. Your childhood room was covered in Soldier Boy posters and you had a doll of him that never left the box. As you got older, you conducted more research on the man you worshiped, but eventually learned that he was a monster in a superhero costume. As a result, you ripped the posters to shreds and finessed some cash off the doll in hopes to erase any trace of your Soldier Boy phase.

You stared in disbelief at the same man that lay peacefully asleep. Your mind raced with questions. The only logical answer to all of them was that you were dreaming. To test the theory, you pinched your forearm as hard as you could. After cursing from the pain, you tried another method by poking Soldier Boy in his meaty bicep. Without fluttering his eyes open, he grunted in annoyance and rolled over.

If your head wasn’t already spinning, it definitely was at this very moment. You slithered out of the bed, making sure not to disturb the sleeping man, and frantically searched for your clothes. In a hurried attempt, you shimmied back into your little black dress from the night before. Regardless of whether this was all a dream or not, you silently vowed that you are remaining sober for the rest of the month.

“Where you going so fast, sweetheart?” You turned toward the groggy voice that belonged to Soldier Boy, who was propped up against the bed frame with his muscular torso in view. It felt as if no time had passed since the beginning stages of your devotion to Soldier Boy. Your eyes scanned over his physique with a hunger that only he could satisfy. Heat radiated your body and you stood paralyzed in your unzipped dress, leaving enough uncovered for his imagination to run wild.

As Soldier Boy hopped out of bed, you swiftly turned away as his thick cock unveiled from the thin sheets. He began walking towards you, but you ignored him by fiddling with the zipper on your back. You grew frustrated with the zipper’s defiance the closer the beefy supe inched towards you. His intense stare begged for your attention until he took matters into his own hands by lifting your chin up to his gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest as his green eyes studied your face. Except there was no studying necessary.

“I’m a little embarrassed by this,” you laughed nervously, “but I don’t remember anything from last night.”

Soldier Boy smirked. “Want me to give you a reminder?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” You paused. You may not have been as infatuated with the supe as much as you once were, but you didn’t want to come off as rude. “I mean…I’m sure last night was great but I shouldn’t impose-“

“Great? Well if you define squirting on my fingers and cock until you begged me to stop as great then maybe I gotta fuck you harder.”

You were about to let out a moan, but quickly masked it with a sigh. Every part of you wanted to hate him but the ache in between your legs betrayed your voice of reason.

“You can play the ex-fangirl game all you want, but you and I know you never truly get over your first crush.” There wasn’t a more pathetic feeling than regressing back into that naive girl who treated a flawed superhero like a god.

Suddenly, your back hit the wall and Soldier Boy towered over you, his arm the only thing keeping him from pressing you against the wall to grind into your core. His free hand hooked under the strap of your dress, slowly pulling it off your shoulder. As the dress pooled around your feet, he lightly kissed the crook of your neck, electricity coursing your blood as his beard pricked your skin.

His hot breath fanned over your ear. “There’s no need to deny me anymore, sweetheart. I’m here for you to worship and fulfill all your pretty little fantasies.”

Fuck it.

All your common sense flew out the window as you desperately smashed your lips against his. Gripping your wrists, he pinned you against the wall before grinding his semi hard cock against your wet pussy.

Soldier Boy may have been the biggest pain in your ass, literally and figuratively, but he was right about you never fully recovering from your first crush.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist

header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness

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ryusuisloveinterest · 7 months

Note

Hi! Could I request something please?

I loved your birthday party drabble!

So could I request some fluff please? For Ryusui, Tsukasa and Ukyo ( separately) please! Feel free to drop a character here if you want!

I was thinking about their reaction when crush offering their lap for them to rest ( idk, for whatever reason they are very tired XD). Bonus point if crush's feelings about the boys are mysterious.

Thank you ! If you don't feel like writting this, is ok too. Take your time!

Hi girlypop! Thank you so much for the request I got really excited writing these! I assumed you wanted a Drabble so that’s how I wrote them lol. Anyway I didn’t write all of them in the stone world so I specified next to the name. Let me know if it’s ok. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Ryusui, Tsukasa, Ukyo, laying on their crushes lap

Ryusui: pre-petrification or 4d science

You’ve worked for the Nanami Conglomerate for a while, helping with basic tasks like cooking, cleaning, things like that. You first met Ryusui when Francois had to take a sick day, hearing you would get double the pay you took up the offer to be Ryusui’s personal maid/butler for a day or two. It’s safe to say Ryusui absolutely adores you! Even when Francois returned, Ryusui HAD to have you by his side, even if you weren’t “assisting” him. One day you were on your brake, sitting in a room for the servants to relax in (which Ryusui made such was super nice for you) when you hear a door slam from the other side. You close the book you were reading to see-you guessed it- Ryusui, looking more tired than he usually is. “Welcome home master Ryusui.” You smile at him. His face lights up, not looking nearly as tired as he was before. “(Y/n)! Thank God your beautiful face is here!” He says while walking over to you, his head placed on your shoulder. You blush only a little, getting used to Ryusui’s clingyness. “A long day sir?” You chuckle. “Yes! There were a bunch of boring meetings and I could barely work on my ships, no matter how much I desired to!” He says, huffing cutely. His arms start to tighten around your waist as he buries his head deeper into your shoulder. “Why don’t you get some rest?” You suggest to him. “I wanna stay with you…” Giggling ever so slightly, you propose an idea that makes his heart go crazy. “Then why don’t you rest your head on my lap for a while hm?” He looks you in the eye, so excited by your sudden suggestion. “I’d love that (y/n)! Now that’s something I desire!” Giggling once more you barley get to sit down before Ryusui practically tackles your lap. Your hand cups his cheek with a couple of fingers tangled in his hair. His smile fills up the room as his eyes flutter shut. Right before he falls asleep, you hear him whisper, “I love you (y/n)…” As the blush on your face darkens slightly, you can’t help but respond with what you’re heart tells you, “I love you too master Ryusui…”

Tsukasa: pre-petrification

Tsukasa just got done winning one of his fights. You walk into his locker room, about to congratulate him on his win when you notice him passed out on one of the benches. Sighing, you walk over to him, carefully picking up his head and placing it on your lap. “Moron. You have a press conference in an hour.” You pick up strands of his hair and begin braiding them together. It could have been your imagination, but you could swear he had some sort of smirk on his face. For about 40 minutes you sit there, watching his chest rise and fall, hearing his quiet snores and smelling the salt of his sweat. Not even thinking, you lean your face over his, only inches apart. As you slowly lean in, an alarm goes off, causing you to raise you head quickly. Tsukasa groans, slowly opening his eyes to his favorite sight. “(Y/n)..?” “Morning sleepyhead.” Tsukasa’s face reddens as he sits up from your lap. You didn’t know why he was so nervous, after all you’d let him lay on your lap when you were kids.“I-uh…I have to get ready for the conference….” He rushes up and walks towards the showering area. “Tsukasa!” You call out causing him to turn his head. “You did a great job today! I’ll be right here if you need anymore rest!” He turns his head away from you, his long hair covering his blushing face. “Thank you (y/n), that means the world to me….”

Ukyo: Kingdom of Science or Tsukasa Empire

After a long day of hunting Ukyo arrives back around 10 at night, making your worried self finally feel at ease. Some of the men help carry the fresh meat as Ukyo groggily walks to his quarters. To his surprise, you were there fixing his bed and cleaning up a bit. You look up at him and smile. “Welcome back Ukyo! The hunt go well?” You speak quietly, not trying to hurt his delicate ears. “Yeah, it went better than usual.” He yawns, rubbing his eyes. You smile at him as you sit in his bed. You pat you lap, “why don’t you get rest?” He’s embarrassed at the clear suggestion that he lay on your lap, but who is he kidding? He wants nothing more than to relax, and being able to sleep on YOUR lap is just a bonus. He walks over to you and gently lays his head down. “I’m not heavy am I?” He asks, making sure he’s not making you uncomfortable. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Just get some sleep ok?” I slightly nods, closing his eyes. You take off his hat and rub his head making him fall asleep faster. Letting out a soft sigh he sleeps soundly mumbling out one last goodnight. “Thank you (y/n), im glad you’re here with me…”

#dr stone #dr stone headcanons #ryusui nanami #ryusui nanami x reader #ryusui x reader #ryusui nanami headcanons #tsukasa shishio #tsukasa shishio x reader #Tsukasa shishio headcanons #ukyo saionji #ukyo saionji x reader #Ukyo saionji headcanons

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shaunashoochiebae · 15 days

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babysitter!abby headcanons

sidenote: idk where this came from i just wanted to write something for her XD is this even headcanons btw. is this what we call a blurb. LET ME KNOW!

✿ you two had known eachother for EVA!!

✿ okay well not rllly.. you’ve lived in the same city since you were young, taking the same classes etc but you never talked much

✿ you were struck with a pregnancy (sighs) not long after you finished school and ur asshole boyfriend left you when you told him!!! (ass)

✿ abby tried to help you out as much as possible while you were pregnant, and also post pregnancy. always asking you if she needed to grab something for you, trying to take your hand to help you up and down stairs

✿ abby liked you BAD. like unbelievably. so, when she saw ur ad for a babysitter, she took that chance as soon as possible, even if it seemed late

✿ calling your phone number on the bottom of the flyer, her breath wavering slightly as she spoke, “hey! i uh saw your ad for a.. babysitter? i’m free, like next week, i can look after your kid.”

✿ you agreed, naturally and the next week came. coming up to ur house, her head jumbled with anxiety and how to not accidentally kill your child, she greeted you with a smile.

✿ she entered your home, toys and clothes scattered in the living room. “i need to go for an appointment. i should only be a few hours,” you explained. she didn’t care, she just wanted ur attention

✿ you eventually left and that’s when it started. she was super gentle with your kid at first “hey, little man. what’s your name..?” your kid, still not able to form proper sentences just replied with a random mix of letters and abby would pretend to understand, “right! gotcha.”

✿ she’d turn on the t.v, switching to a kids channel playing some random cartoon to keep ur kid occupied for a while.

❀ your kid, being the attention seeker that they are, stumbled over to abby who was sitting on ur couch, scrolling on her phone, and began tugging out of her pant leg.

❀ “what’s up? you hungry?” she’d ask, clueless, having never really speaking to a child like this before

❀ and then. the kid just starts crying. like SOBBIBG. and abby’s panicking and jumping up from the couch, “fuck. uh. are you- okay? should i call your mom? i.. shit.”

❀ trying to calm them down, she grabs them a snack, which keeps them civil for a while before they start to scream and cry again. “jesus christ. how she can deal with you, i’ll never know.” she’d mumble to herself

❀ she’d pick up a teddy bear and pretend that it’s talking, “what’s that, ted? you think they should stop crying? i agree. look kid, your bear said so, i dunno.”

❀ your kid would finally calm down after that, listening to what the teddy bear had to say. they’d sit down on the couch next to abby, their tiny feet dangling off the edge, teddy bear in hand. “i’ll turn back on the cartoons, ‘kay?”

❀ after a while, the child FINALLY falls asleep!!! abby has no idea why to do with them though.. their head falling onto her thigh as they fell alseep, and abby, being the kind natured person she is, would NEVRR wake up a sleeping baby. ever.

❀ you’d arrive back home not long after that and walk into the living room. abby looks up from the t.v, “hey. they fell asleep, i wasn’t sure what to do with ‘em, so.. i just left ‘em there.” she’d say, gesturing to the sleeping child.

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misc-obeyme · 1 year

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Hi there i have been reading your blog for an hour now and im obsessed. Your writing is amazing. May i please request gn! Mc who was just in a fight, and got badly injured, but doesn’t care. So they ask the demon/angel there yo cuddle?

Im so so so sorry of this doesn’t make sense im very tired xD

Preferred characters you can ignore this well the entire request too xD (lucifer, satan, belphie, dia, barb, and simeon)

Here is a cat to keep you company his name is mr. Whisp 🐈

Hello there!

Oh thank you, I'm so glad you're enjoying my writing! (Also thank you for Mr. Whisp I love him.)

Okay, so I wrote these as little scenes instead of the usual bulleted list style, I hope that's okay! They did end up a little longer because of that, though. I did it that way because you requested specific characters and it's easier to write little scenes for fewer characters rather than all of them.

Thank you for the request!

GN!MC gets hurt in a fight, but doesn't care and just wants cuddles with Lucifer, Satan, Belphie, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon

Warnings: MC is hurt! Bruises, blood, general injuries, talk of fighting.

Lucifer

You were standing in front of Lucifer, summoned to his room after he inevitably heard from several of his brothers about the state you were in. You had shown up at the House of Lamentation covered in scrapes and bruises. They all noticed how you were walking with a slight limp and the dark circle that was forming up under one of your eyes.

You had considered blowing him off when you got the message on your D.D.D. that he wanted to see you immediately. You didn't really feel like listening to a lecture about getting into fights. And yet you knew that if you put it off, it'd only be worse later. And secretly you wanted to see him.

Lucifer was observing you with a dark expression, clearly looking over your various injuries.

You kept your arms folded, chin up, and said, "You wanted to see me?"

He didn't say anything at first. You weren't sure if this meant he was so angry he couldn't speak or if he was just trying to make you nervous.

"Explain," he said at last.

You sighed. "I got into a little fight, it was no big deal."

Lucifer quickly closed the distance between you. He took hold of your chin and tilted your face this way and that. "No big deal? MC, you have a black eye. I think perhaps you've also injured your ankle in some way. Do you really think it's okay to risk yourself like this?"

You frowned up at him. "I can handle myself. Just because I got hurt doesn't mean I didn't win the fight."

Lucifer shook his head in exasperation. "That is not the point. Surely the issue could have been resolved without you getting hurt."

You softened a little. "You don't have to worry about me so much, you know."

Lucifer let go of your chin, tracing the tips of his fingers down your cheek lightly. "How can I not when you come in here looking like this? I know you can take care of yourself, but it really is a problem if you-"

You cut him off, catching his hand and stepping in even closer. "Lecture me later. Right now, can't you just hold me?"

You saw his resolve break as his expression changed. He wrapped his arms around you gently, careful to avoid aggravating your injuries. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, unable to hold back as his worry for you spilled over.

"We will treat your injuries shortly," he said into your hair. "And MC, you will not worry me like this again."

You smiled to yourself at this blatant admission of his concern for you. The warmth of his arms was more than enough to make you feel as though you were healing already. You later heard all about how he hunted down those who hurt you (though you could never figure out how he knew who they were). Those demons were never heard from again.

Satan

You sat down across the table from Satan at the library of RAD. There was nobody else around - it was late in the afternoon and all the other students had long since gone home. You knew Satan was there late, taking his time studying for an upcoming curses and hexes exam. You had agreed to meet him there at some point, since you needed to study for that exam as well.

Satan looked up as you sat down and instantly reached out across the table, grabbing your wrist.

"MC," he said, his voice low. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

You knew he was reacting to the bruises on your face and the cut across your forehead that was currently still bleeding a little.

"I'm fine," you said, shrugging a little and pulling your wrist out of his grip. "I just had to take care of something on my way here. Now are we going to study some hexes or what?"

Satan stared at you with wide eyes for a moment. You watched as his face changed, his eyes going dark and his teeth clenching. You could see where this was going and sure enough, he was suddenly in demon form. He half stood out of his chair, leaning across the table and growling.

"Who was it?" he demanded. You could see the tip of his tail twitch just above the table, unexpectedly free rather than wrapped securely around his leg.

You weren't scared because you knew he was contemplating tearing some other demons limb from limb for doing this to you. His reaction was a little over the top, but nothing you weren't expecting. This was Satan, after all.

"I know you're upset," you said. "But it really isn't anything you need to worry about." You placed your hand over one of his, leaning forward yourself to meet him.

His death glare only cooled slightly. "You can't show up to a study session with injuries like that and expect me not to worry, MC."

"I can if I'm telling you that you don't need to worry," you said adamantly. "I need you to trust me. And honestly, it would help me a lot more if you would calm down and give me a hug than if you went off the rails right now."

He was struck by your words, and they caused him to sit back down. Slowly, his demon form left him and he was back in his RAD uniform. The anger still smoldered in his eyes, but it was in competition with how much he cared for you.

Satan closed his eyes, clearly fighting with himself to push down the wrath that continued to simmer in him. After a few moments and some deep breaths, he opened his eyes again. He came around the table, gently taking your hands and pulling you out of your chair.

His eyes roamed over the cut on your forehead, but he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You pressed yourself to him, letting your own arms return the embrace. The pain of injuries seemed to fade away entirely as you let him comfort you.

You pulled your head away just a little to look at him and as you did so, you saw a splotch of red against the grey fabric of his uniform. "I'm sorry," you said. "I got blood on your uniform."

Satan sighed and pulled you even closer to him, resting his head on your shoulder. "What am I going to do with you, MC? Promise me you'll be more careful. I hate to see you hurt like this."

"I promise I'll be more careful," you said. It was a promise you felt you could keep.

Belphegor

You moved as quietly as you could through the halls of the House of Lamentation, avoiding any of the brothers you came across. You were on your way to the planetarium to meet up with Belphie and you didn't want any of the others to see the state you were in. So you kept to the shadows, moving along the walls until you came to your destination.

You slipped into the room and smiled at Belphie as he looked up at you. He had been nearly dozing off, so he was still a little bleary.

"There you are," he said with a yawn. "You're late."

"I'm sorry," you said, hoping the room was dark enough that he hadn't noticed your cuts and bruises. You sat down next to him, making sure you stayed partly in shadow. "I lost track of the time."

"Hmm, fine, I'll forgive you this time," Belphie said, rubbing at his eyes.

You laughed softly. "Gee, thanks."

Belphie leaned against your shoulder sleepily. You winced. You didn't mean to, but your shoulder was still sore in that spot.

Belphie noticed instantly. He sat up straight and looked at you carefully, the sleepiness suddenly gone. "MC… is that… a black eye?"

You shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Belphie frowned. "It is. You're hurt." He tugged on your arm a little to move you more into the light. You knew he could now see how banged up you really were. "MC! What happened to you?"

"Don't worry about it," you said. "It's not a big deal."

Belphie scoffed. "You got into a fight, didn't you? At least tell me that you gave worse than you got."

"Of course I did," you said.

Belphie stood up. "Hang on," he said. "I'll be right back. Then you should tell me about it."

Belphie was gone for only a few minutes, coming back with a first aid kit in tow. He sat back down next to you and opened it, pulling out a disinfectant wipe. He started to wipe down the scrapes on your face. It stung only a little.

"So? What happened? Did some demons insult you or something?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said. "Well, they said some things that I couldn't just ignore and things escalated quickly. But I can promise you they're suffering worse injuries than I am."

Belphie smirked. "I'm not happy about you being hurt," he said seriously. "But I can't pretend I'm not proud of you, either. You should let us handle stuff like that for you, MC. I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't know if it's worth you getting hurt like this."

Belphie carefully put a bandage over the largest cut.

"It's really no big deal," you said. "Especially since I have you to take care of me."

Belphie frowned, a soft blush creeping across his face. He sighed and put his arms around you. "Just because I'll patch you up doesn't mean you should go around getting yourself hurt."

You leaned into his embrace, nuzzling into him while still being careful of your injuries. "I know. Thank you for taking care of me, Belphie."

Although Belphie stayed by your side that night, you later heard rumors about those particular demons being plagued by nightmares.

Diavolo

You ducked into an empty classroom, having finally gotten away from the scene of the fight. You were covered in scratches and bruises and your lip was bleeding. You had eventually escaped the pandemonium after landing a particularly well thrown punch and running while your opponent was dazed. Now you could take a moment to breathe and figure out what you needed to do for your injuries.

You turned around from the classroom door and froze in shock. Diavolo was standing there in the middle of the room, looking just as shocked as you felt. He stared at you for a long moment, taking in your disheveled appearance, and the blood still dripping down your chin.

"MC," he said and the darkness of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. He came toward you. He put one hand on your arm and lifted the other to wipe the blood off of your bottom lip. He let his touch linger there. "Did a student do this to you?"

You considered telling him exactly which demons you had been dealing with. But then you thought about how you weren't entirely blameless. You engaged with them, after all, and there was no doubt that you'd left a few of them injured.

"Please don't worry about it," you said. "It wasn't like I couldn't handle it."

Diavolo sighed. "That isn't the point, I'm afraid," he said. "It's against RAD policy to fight on the grounds."

You smirked a little. "Are you going to give me detention?"

Diavolo laughed. The sound filled you with a feeling of warmth and contentment. It was his usual laugh and it let you know that everything would be okay. "I don't think that will be necessary," he said. "But if there are students picking fights, I'll have to do something about it."

You put your hand on his where it still lingered by your bloody lip. "You can do something about it later, can't you? I could really use a hug right now."

Diavolo put his hand gently on your cheek then wrapped his other arm around you, pulling you close to him. After a moment he put his other arm around you, too, keeping you safe and warm in his embrace.

"I am so sorry this happened to you, MC," he said into your hair. "Please come back to the castle with me so I can be sure your injuries are properly cared for."

You pressed your cheek against his chest. "Are you really that worried about me? I can handle myself."

"I don't doubt you," he said. "But I would feel much better knowing you are being taken care of. Won't you indulge me?"

It wasn't like you could really refuse him. Especially not when you looked into his gold eyes and saw the deep concern there. So you would allow him to take you back to the castle, where you would stay for the rest of the night. You later heard about the rules regarding fighting at RAD becoming more strict.

Barbatos

You pressed your fingertips into your cheek in an attempt to stop the bleeding from a small cut you had gotten there. You felt that it was the most prominent wound, since it was right on your face, and while you couldn't exactly cover up all your bruises, you hoped you could at least stop the bleeding.

You were waiting for Barbatos in the gardens of the Demon Lord's Castle where you were meeting him for tea.

You weren't delusional. You knew you couldn't hide what had happened from Barbatos. But you still thought it would be better if you weren't actively bleeding.

When Barbatos finally arrived, he was carrying a tray of tea and pastries in his hands. The moment he saw you, he nearly dropped the tray, catching himself just in time. Still it tipped enough for a teacup to go flying off the edge, falling to the ground and smashing into tiny pieces.

You gasped and stood up, an unexpected reaction to the shattered teacup. "Oh don't worry, I can fix that," you said.

You couldn't look at Barbatos as you cast the spell to repair the cup. The pieces lifted into the air and fused back together. The cup landed in your palm, whole again. You straightened up and brought the cup over to where Barbatos was still standing, setting it on the tray before meeting his eyes.

There was an unmistakable aura of distress around him, even though his expression remained neutral. He carefully placed the tray on the table you had previously been sitting at.

"Thank you, MC," he said. "I'm afraid I lost my composure for a moment. I apologize for my clumsiness."

You had to hold in a laugh. Of course he would apologize to you for that. "Don't worry about it," you said.

You were about to sit back down at the table when he caught your arm. "I must inquire about your current state, MC."

You shrugged. "It's nothing important," you said. "Just a little altercation I was in on the way here. But I'm fine."

"I must disagree," Barbatos said. To your complete shock, he touched your cheek, leaving a smudged red stain on his spotless white gloves.

"Barbatos!" you cried, taking his hand. "You're getting my blood all over your gloves!"

It wasn't like Barbatos to allow his gloves to get dirty.

"A small matter compared to the fact that you are currently bleeding, MC," Barbatos said calmly. "You must allow me to tend to these wounds."

You sighed, squeezing his hand in both of yours. "All right. But first won't you…" You blushed, a little embarrassed to ask him to hold you.

But Barbatos knew what you wanted to say. He pulled you down into his lap as he sat down in one of the chairs by the table. You rested your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, gently kissing your neck. Much later, he would bandage you up and give you some healing tea. But in that moment, his touch was like the magic you had used on the teacup - making you feel whole again.

Simeon

You fidgeted outside the door to Purgatory Hall. You had come here to spend some time with Simeon, studying while he worked on his latest novel. It was something you had gotten into the habit of doing recently. You were currently concerned about running into Luke and scaring him with the sight of your injuries.

You decided to send Simeon a message on your D.D.D. letting him know you were outside.

He sent you back a question mark sticker, clearly confused about why you didn't just knock on the door.

You waited for a moment instead of responding and the door opened to reveal Simeon, his expression just as confused as the sticker he sent.

"MC?" he asked. Then he got a decent look at you. "Oh, MC. What happened to you?" He grabbed your hand, pulling you inside.

"I'm fine," you said. "Can we just go to your room so I can study?"

Simeon frowned, but he did as you asked. He held your hand tightly as he led you down the hall to his room.

Fortunately, you didn't run into any of the other Purgatory Hall occupants.

When you reached his room, Simeon sat you down on his bed as he stood before you, fingers lightly touching the largest bruise on your face.

"I told you, I'm fine," you said again. "I just didn't want to scare Luke, that's all."

"I appreciate that you were concerned about Luke, MC," Simeon said. "But you really should be worried about yourself, too. These injuries are serious. They need treatment."

You groaned a little and leaned forward, letting your forehead rest on his stomach. "I knew you'd be worried about it," you said. "But I'm fine. And anyway, I'll really start to feel better if you just hold me for a bit."

Simeon chuckled. He gently pushed your head back to make you look up at him. "I could never say no to that," he said. "But you really should let me take care of this later." He let his fingers hover over the various places where you had developed bruises.

"Later," you agreed.

Simeon shook his head, but he sat beside you on the bed. He took you in his arms, leaning back against the pillows so you were lying on his chest. He ran his fingers down your back and kissed the top of your head.

"You really should be more careful in the Devildom, MC," he said.

You snuggled into him more. "It's fine. I can handle myself."

"I have no doubt of that," Simeon said. "But I'd rather you didn't get injured. I can only imagine how the demons you fought are faring."

"Let's just say they'll think twice before messing with me again," you said.

Simeon sighed, but he only held you a little closer.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfiction #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #i always forget how much i love writing for barbatos until i write for him again #request #misc writes

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