#they’re not ready to admit it to themselves yet. and that’s okay. the world isn’t ending. they have time
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do u love the colors of the comphet
When it’s over, when Henry Creel is dead and dust and they’ve emerged battered and triumphant. When she and Jonathan have ended things. When there is no more fighting to be done, she and Steve give it another go.
She knows he’s going to ask the same way she knew in ‘83. There’s no waiting this time, no need to wonder if Jonathan might want her too. They gave it the old college try (He lied to her. He was lying to her for months, and she knew something was wrong before that. She thought they could work it out. She’s so fucking sick of lying to herself being lied to).
He asks with wide, hopeful eyes, running a nervous hand through his hair. He doesn’t have anything to be nervous about. She made up her mind before he even asked.
She can do it right this time. She can love this boy the way she wants to. The way he wants her to. They’ve both grown in the years since. She’s going to do this right.
That’s the mantra she keeps in her head when he picks her up and spins her. I can do this.
She can’t do this.
It’s somehow the same and different from when they dated the first time. They’re going through the same motions, but there’s something lacking. They’re both older, more jaded. They’re not kids anymore, and it shows.
They rarely kiss. He hesitates now in a way he didn’t before. Sex is something they don’t bring up at all. Eddie makes a crude joke once, something or other about what Nancy is like in bed, and she and Steve make eye contact. There’s something there, something like mutual understanding, before Robin smacks Eddie upside the back of the head and the moment breaks. She keeps thinking about it long after. Whatever it is that they shared, they don’t talk about it.
Maybe they’re lying to themselves, both of them. Puppets going through the motions, too stubborn to admit they’re play acting as real people. Still, she can’t give this up. She can’t make the same mistakes all over again.
Robin corners her two months into the relationship. Part of Nancy is surprised it took her this long. The rest of her is angry she brings it up at all.
Saying she’s cornered might be doing her a disservice. They’re having a sleepover, painting their nails and talking about boys. Everything a girl is supposed to do. Except Robin is awkward and fumbling, and every name she brings up sounds like a question. Nancy only has Steve to talk about, and barely talks about him at all.
Finally Robin sighs and puts down the nail polish. “I feel like this subject is making us both miserable,” she declares. “I don’t want to talk about boys, I was just doing it because I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do at girl sleepovers. I haven’t actually been to a sleepover since I was in middle school and the other girls decided I was weird, but I’m pretty sure the point is to have fun. This is not fun. This is agonizing. We should talk about something else.”
“Steve isn’t making me miserable!” She snaps, before realizing she sounds way too defensive.
Robin peers at her. “Yeah, see, that’s not what I said. That’s not even a little bit close to what I said. Maybe we should talk about this instead. What’s the deal with you and Steve?”
“What deal? There’s no deal.” She turns around and rummages through the nail polish selection. Robin doesn’t exactly have a variety. Her options are red, dark red, and black. She chooses the brighter red with the absent thought that the black would look good on Robin, with her long fingers and dark eyeliner. Then she banishes that thought away.
“There’s definitely some kind of deal.”
“There isn’t.”
“Nance.”
She can’t help but turn around then, drawn in by the tone of her voice. There’s a glass wall inside of her, and someone is pounding on it, trying to get out. She wants Robin to see it. She wants someone to see behind the glass. There’s something in her trying to get out.
“Nancy,” she says again, eyes searing into her soul, “are you happy?”
She smiles, fake and fixed on her face. The glass stays firmly in place. “Of course I am,” she replies. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
The next time Robin wants to hang out, she’s busy with college preparations.
It’s not just Robin. She thinks everyone can tell something’s wrong with her. Eddie gives her these looks every time she and Steve are in front of him, like he’s putting together a puzzle. Her mom keeps trying to talk to her. Jonathan keeps trying to talk to her.
They know, she thinks wildly, every time. She doesn’t know what it is they know. She doesn’t want to find out.
She avoids them all.
When she and Steve go to dinner, the waitress captivates her.
Long, dark hair in braids. Long fingers tapping against the notepad. Dark eyes in a dark face. She’s always loved brown eyes. Nancy has never been one to be jealous of other girls (lie, lie, lie), but suddenly heat floods her body. She wants to be as gorgeous as this woman. She wants her full lips, popping gum. She wants the woman’s swaying hips as she turns and leaves their table. She wants— she wants—
She tears her gaze away to find Steve already looking at her.
The heat is dosed by the ice that fills her veins. All her senses go on high alert until she realizes he’s actually staring past her. She turns around to see the bartender. He’s handsome, she thinks, tall with tan skin and brown hair carefully styled. He’s talking to a customer, teeth shining as he laughs.
When she turns back, Steve has firmly fixed his eyes on her. She could almost believe he’d never been staring at the bartender at all.
There’s something there. Something just out of reach, something she could put a finger out and touch if she were braver. She doesn’t. There’s no gun in her hand here, no adrenaline to keep her going after it all falls apart.
“What did your dumb boyfriend do this time?” Mike demands, storming in her room. Nancy has half a mind to yell at him to knock first before she registers his words.
“Steve is- Steve is fine,” she says, startled. “He’s great, actually. Nothings wrong.“
“Then why are you so miserable all the time?” Mike accuses.
“I am not miserable!”
“You are! You both are, and neither of you will tell anyone what’s wrong, or why-“
“I don’t know why!” She shrieks. Mike falls silent, eyes wide, and Nancy suddenly realizes she’s crying.
“I don’t know why,” she repeats. “Everything is fine. He’s like, the perfect fucking boyfriend. It’s me, I’m the problem. There’s something wrong with me. There’s a beautiful boy who loves me, and I’m- I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to love him back, but I can’t. I can’t. There’s something wrong with me.” She’s desperate now, wiping away tears as she curls into a ball. She feels pathetic, crying in front of her little brother. She’s the oldest, she should be keeping it together, she shouldn’t let him see her like this. But she can’t help it. There’s something in her screaming to get out.
Mike, with all the grace and bewilderment of a newborn deer, gingerly pats her shoulder.
“Have you…talked to Steve about it?”
She gives him a cutting look. It’s probably not as effective as she wants it to be, with her red eyes and tear streaked face. Mike holds his hands up.
“I’m just saying! He’s your boyfriend, you should talk to him. And if you don’t want him to be your boyfriend, you should really talk to him.”
“I want him to be my boyfriend, I just need to get past whatever this is—“
“Nancy,” Mike says. “It’s not just you. He’s miserable too.”
“Because of me. I just need to—“
Mike shakes his head. “I don’t think it is. If it were because of you, he’d be acting different. More…kicked puppy, or whatever. He’s just being weird, and won’t tell anyone why. Dustin said he asked Robin, and she doesn’t even know.”
Nancy doesn’t have anything to say to that.
“I think you need to talk to him,” he says again. “I think you need to talk to each other.”
“When did you get so smart?” She asks, instead of crying again.
“I’ve always been smarter than you.”
She kicks him for that blatant lie.
“Are we holding onto a dead thing?” She asks out loud.
He rolls over and looks at her. She’s worried she’s hurt his feelings, broken his heart again, killed any chance they have at a relationship, romantic or not. Then he snorts.
“Robin got to you too, huh?” He asks, flopping back onto his back to look up at the sky.
“Mike, actually.”
“Mike? That shithead? What does he know about relationship problems?”
“Are we having relationship problems?”
“I mean,” he says, wry twist to his mouth, “we haven’t had any arguments.”
“Nope.”
“Or general drama.”
“That might be debatable.”
“There’s no need to spice up our sex life.”
She snacks him for that one, and he laughs. She props herself up to look him in the eye. His face is more open than she’s seen it the entire time they’ve been dating.
“I think you have to be in a relationship to have ‘relationship problems,’” she tells him. “Are we in a relationship?”
He visibly considers this. “I mean, I asked you out, and you said yes. And we never broke up.”
“We haven’t kissed in at least two weeks.”
“Did you want to?”
She takes a moment to think about it. “Not really,” she admits, and his face splits into a grin.
“Not that you’re not still wonderful, Nancy Wheeler,” he says, teeth shining, “but I don’t think I want to kiss you either. Isn’t that weird?”
When they dated in high school, it was like he couldn’t stand being away from her. He spent every moment he could kissing her, wherever he could. Sometimes it felt almost like a performance he put on for the people around them, lifting her up and spinning her just so everyone would know how in love they were. It was stifling at times, feeling like something to prove. Still, it was how he was, so in love he could burst with it.
Now, she wonders if it was always a performance. Maybe they’ve both been on a stage, and neither of them noticed the lights blinding them until now.
“It is a little weird,” she says finally.
“Right?!”
He holds out a hand to shake, the other one firmly in his pocket. God, she wishes she could love him. “Good go, eh Wheeler?” He asks, smile crooked and shaky.
She snorts. “We made ourselves and everyone around us miserable,” she points out. But she takes his hand.
#do u love the colors of the comphet au#nancy wheeler#robin buckley#steve harrington#lesbian Nancy Wheeler#gay steve harrington#stranger things fanfic#stancy but make it the most tense awkward awful decision these two have possibly ever made. out of a lot of awful decisions#blah blah blah smth ab growing up and growing older and wanting a redo for your past mistakes#and wanting to feel the way you did before it all went wrong#but you realize that maybe you were idolizing that past version of yourself that never really existed#and maybe you never wanted it in the first place. maybe you only told yourself you did#maybe it would have gone wrong anyway#i don’t outright say Steve or Nancy are gay in this but it’s HEAVILY hinted at#they’re not ready to admit it to themselves yet. and that’s okay. the world isn’t ending. they have time#*slaps roof of nancy wheeler* this baby can fit so much projection in it#i feel like I need to say I’m not anti-stancy. i actually do like stancy when it’s done well. HOWEVER#i don’t think bringing it back two seasons later in one of the weirdest ways possible is doing it well I’m sorry#Maybe if we get a stoncy make out sesh in s5 I’ll change my mind#*crossing my fingers for a post-monster killing stoncy make out sesh in s5*#the ONLY ship I want to be canon. and the one least likely to happen. it’s so hard shipping polyamory I should watch sense8#why did I go on this rant. idk. enjoy <333
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The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack
This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!
LUCIFER
Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.
Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.
If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.
Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.
MAMMON
Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.
Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?
Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.
The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.
After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.
LEVIATHAN
Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.
Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.
Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.
Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.
SATAN
Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.
A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.
Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.
ASMODEUS
Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!
Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.
In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.
Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.
BEELZEBUB
Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.
The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.
Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.
Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.
BELPHEGOR
Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.
Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.
With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me mc#obey me reader#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me scenarios#my writing
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i can't forgive me & you can't forget
Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.
Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff
TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism
Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid
Word Count: 4.5k
Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe
Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!!
The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.
It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.
“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.
“Hey.”
Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.
Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”
Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.
It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—
“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”
Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.
Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”
So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”
But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”
He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.
“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.
Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.
The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.
But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.
Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?
It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.
He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.
But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.
“No,” he says honestly.
Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”
Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.
“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”
Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.
The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?
He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.
“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”
Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.
It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.
It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.
The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.
Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.
It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.
They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)
Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.
They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.
The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.
Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.
This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.
It’s also the first day he gets a craving.
He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.
This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.
Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.
Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.
Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.
“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”
Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.
“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”
It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.
He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”
Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.”
“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”
“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”
“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”
“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”
Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”
“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.
He shakes his head.
“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”
Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.
“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”
“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”
Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”
“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”
Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.
“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”
“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”
Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”
Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.
They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.
“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.
He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.
“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”
Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”
“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”
Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.
“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.
Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.
“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”
Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.
“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.
“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”
Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.
He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”
Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.
“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”
They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.
“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”
“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”
“Der, I don��t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.
Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.
“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”
Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”
“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”
Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”
They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.
The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.
“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.
Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”
“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”
Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”
Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”
And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.
Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house!
Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.
taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (add yourself to my taglist here!)
#my writing#moreid#derek morgan#spencer reid#criminal minds#cm#moreid fic#moreid fanfic#moreid fanfiction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#derek morgan/spencer reid#derek morgan x spencer reid#spencer reid/derek morgan#spencer reid x derek morgan#tw past drug use#tw referenced drug use#tw substances#tw alcoholism
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Dirt Crawlers
Look @darkeninganon , I beat you to writing the slug thing!!!! :)
(brain just randomly started thinking of story and I just decided to write it now before I lost motivation/inspiration)
Part 2->
TRIGGER WARNINGS: BUGS, FEAR, MENTION OF DEATH, FEELING SMALL, VERY GROSS DISCRETION
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Tommy watched Dream as he pushed the door to their hole in the ground open The younger Dirt Crawler was practically bouncing with excitement. Today was the day, finally Dream was taking him out on his first hunting trip. It was the perfect day for hunting as well, since it hadn't rained for weeks and was so bright and sunny out (as Tommy could tell from the blinding light coming through their burrow door) that there was no way it would rain; so there was no risk of them drowning in a puddle or getting dragged down to suffocate in mud. It was also the afternoon by now, judging by where the sun was, which meant almost no birds out hunting at all. Yeah, now would be the perfect time to get some food.
"You remember all the rules I told you, right?" Tommy was startled out of his thoughts by his older brother's voice.
"Yeah yeah yeah, I know I know!" The teen rolled his eyes. The rules had been drilled into him ever since he was a kid, ever since their parents were still around.
"Okay, so remember that we're only hunting aphids- no attacking ants, ladybugs, termites-"
"Mantises,"-He cut off Dream's words-"slugs- yeah yeah, I know boss man! We don't fight anything that isn't an aphid!!" Tommy climbed out of the burrow with that in mind. He already knows what happens if a Dirt Crawler tries to fight anything other than an aphid, he's been told the horror stories thousands of times. Ants will swarm you if you hurt one, ladybugs can headbutt trample and eat you, termites can take a limb off with one bite, and mantises- of Prime Tommy really does NOT want to think about fucking mantises.
"I'm just making sure-" Dream added as he climbed out to stand next to Tommy, kicking their burrow door closed behind himself. "I know how adventurous you can get at times and I don't want to risk anything." The elder puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder and looks into his baby brother's eyes seriously. The world is a dangerous place for someone only half an inch tall, and he wants to make sure his baby brother is safe.
"Stop worrying so much- I'm not gonna leave your side big man." Tommy smirks into their serious gaze and gives his brother a comforting pay on the shoulder, making them sigh with relief.
"Good- because I don't know what I'd do without your annoying voice." Dream jokes with a slightly forced chuckle and ruffles the teen's curly blond hair. Tommy only groans in annoyance and pushes his hand away, which only makes Dream let out another fond chuckle. "C'mon, we don't have all afternoon!" The elder doesn't give Tommy any time to fix their hair as he grabs their hand and pulls them off into the towering grass blades.
It's a few hours later when the two brothers find themselves watching from being blades of grass as several aphids hop around on the dirt, having called off of the grass after the two tiny people had shaken their plant homes with the help of a light breeze. Dream pulls out a small sword and turns to Tommy to make sure he's holding his own sword correctly. Once the eldest is sure the time is perfect, he gives a signal with his hand and both split- Dream running in from the right and Tommy from the left, both catching the tiny bugs off guard and using that to their advantage to slice off the heads of several before they can jump out of reach.
"You did it!" Dream smiles up at Tommy who himself is smiling proudly. They were running low on food, and now with Tommy's help, they're both sure to have more than enough aphids to last them for a week or more at least. "This should be good- you, did good Toms." The green clad Dirt Crawler walks over to his brother and ruffles their hair, and this time Tommy does not complain. "Now help me bag them up-"
"Yes sir!" Tommy gives a small thumbs up and starts to fill his sprig woven bag with the dead aphids as Dream does the same. It's all fine until one of the aphid bodies gets up and starts to limp away- Tommy missed it's head. "I'll get it!" He calls over to his brother, who gives a nod of acknowledgement before Tommy chases after the aphid, knowing he can easily catch and kill it since it can't jump.
Tommy doesn't notice anything suspicious as he approaches the injured aphid. He doesn't look around at his surroundings as he gets out his sword. He doesn't look up as he stabs the bug and finally kills it. He does however scream after looking up to see where the droplet of slime had come from on his sword after landing the killing blow.
Dream snaps his head up to attention, his eyes wide with fear for his Tommy as he looks to where they'd run off to- and he almost screams as well. "IT'S A SLUG!!!!" He's quick to run over and grab Tommy's arm and start to drag the petrified teen away before they can be eaten.
Tommy doesn't hesitate to follow Dream once he snaps out of his state of fear. As they run Tommy tries not to think about the humongous slimey being of pure squishy muscle, with four eyes that stared at him with nothing but hunger, and a large gaping mouth that was opening and closing, ready to eat it's lunch with the rows upon rows of tiny razor sharp teeth that could allow the disgusting giant to swallow him whole. Tommy shivers, yeah that's going to be haunting his nightmares- oh well at least slugs are slow, so he and Dream have plenty of time to run away…. Or so he thought, before suddenly his running is slowed significantly by something making him stick to the ground. The teen looks down, and sees he's stepped into a trail of familiar slime that has him now stuck where he stands.
"Dre- Dream!?" He yells to his older brother, who also finds himself slowed by the slime trail. Dream looks at his brother sadly, and grabs their arms before desperately trying to pull Tommy free as the slug approaches at a slow orgilating crawl towards them.
"Tommy- Tommy, look at me!" Dream said, keeping his voice firm, trying to give his baby brother something to focus on. "Don't look back- don't- d- don't look behind you. Just focus on me, we're going to get out of this." At least Tommy is close enough for Dream to pull them into a hug. He lets Tommy bury their face into his chest, letting them cry as he glares up at the omnivore that had successfully hunted them down on Tommy's first aphid gathering…
"I- I'm scared…" Tommy admits quietly, something they usually would never do, but Dream can understand in this situation: getting stuck while running from a slug is certain death for any and all Dirt Crawlers.
"I know… I know, but it's going to be okay, I promise…." Dream whispers softly and weaves his fingers into Tommy's soft golden curls, something that's always calmed them down, no matter how old. He hugs his small brother close, closing his eyes so he can savor one last moment with them…
BOOM-SQUELCH!!!
The sound is loud and disturbing to hear for the absolutely miniscule brothers, and they both open their eyes wide in surprise and fear of what happened. All that can run through Dream's head is that the slug must've been crushed by something, but what? A deer? A wolf maybe? Possibly even a skunk even if they aren't in this area? The only way to find out is to look up- and up- and up and up and up and-
"Fuck." Dream doesn't cuss often, but for this occasion it feels necessary.
"Wh- wha-" Tommy begins to ask but cuts off his own words as he feels all his breath leave him in fear, as he looks up too.
A giant. An actual giant. A person, thousands of times their size was standing right on top of where the slug had been only seconds before- and it seemed like they didn't even notice they'd crushed anything.
"Human…" Dream mutters quietly, remembering the word from a story their mom told him once before Tommy was born. Giants- humans- weren't supposed to be here. Dirt Crawlers almost never had to deal with humans… yet here one stood, having unintentionally saved the two brothers lives, and Dream realized in a moment how close they both were to that death dealing foot, and if the human hadn't seen the slug, then if they took another unfortunate step- "R- run- we need to run! Run!!" Dream shouts and starts to pull Tommy, and his brother quickly gets the message as they both pull themselves out of the slime to start running.
Dream doesn't let go of Tommy's hand the whole time as they both run as fast as they can, but it doesn't feel fast enough as every time Dream looks back the human looks just as close as they were before and- oh gods they were looking down at them. Dream pushes forward, trying to pull Tommy even faster with a feigned hope that maybe, just maybe they can at least get to the burrow in time and be safe until the human leaves-
Dream bounces back off of something hard and smooth, he can't see it but he can feel it. Tommy rushes forward to stand beside him and starts to bang on the invisible wall; it's a fruitless effort however as both know that anything used by humans is guaranteed to be too strong for either to break through. Only a few seconds later they feel gravity change and they're sliding down the wall, Dream grabs Tommy and hugs him, wanting to make sure that wherever they land his brother is safe more than anything. They eventually hit a bottom, made of another invisible wall- and as Dream looks up he meets two massive eyes, twice as big as himself, staring directly at him and his brother.
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brother’s best friend
Sirius X Slytherin!Reader
Summary: Request: @lam-ila: Sirius and a Slytherin reader
A/n: This is mostly angst and pining with a cute ending as always. It’s kinda nice to do these short drabbles not going to lie. This one’s about 3k words though... my bad. I meant to keep it shorter but ya know...
“Isn’t that your older brother?” I whispered in class.
“Yes, regrettably,” Regulus muttered.
“He’s a Gryffindor?” I was taken back. “Isn’t your whole family Slytherin?”
“You’d think that wouldn’t you?” He sounded dismayed.
“Your parents must be livid,”
“You have no idea,”
Curious blue eyes met mine from across the room before I saw a hint of disgust on his face.
“What are you doing hanging around my little brother?” His voice caught my attention in the hallway between classes.
“Hello little black sheep,” I smiled, turning from my friends to face him. He had a sneer etched into his features, but he couldn’t hide the concern from his eyes.
“Don’t call me that,” Sirius snapped. “What do you want with my brother?”
“He’s a friend? Did you think that Slytherins didn’t have friends little Gryffindor?” I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re bad news,”
“So are you,” I refuted. “And yet here we are.”
“Just stay away from him,” Sirius threatened.
“He’s my friend,” I snarled. “And how dare you think you can order me around!?”
He drew his wand, and I drew mine. Others made a circle around us, ready for the show. My eyes didn’t leave Sirius.
“Y/n? Sirius?” Regulus called pushing through the crowd. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing Reg. Just go,” Sirius ordered.
“Oh, that’s brilliant,” I snorted. “Not gonna tell him you’re threatening me, are you big brother?”
Sirius raised his wand, but Regulus was between the two of us, staring down his older sibling.
“I don’t need you to protect me,” Regulus left no room for argument.
“I’m your brother. It’s my job,” Sirius eyes didn’t leave mine.
“And Y/n is my friend. If you want to protect me find some new friends yourself,” Regulus said.
The younger Black took my hand and pulled me out of the ring and to an empty hallway.
“I’m sorry. He always does this,” Regulus eyes were fixed on the ground.
“It’s alright,” I stowed my wand away.
“I... I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore,” He mumbled.
“Because Sirius threatened me?” I laughed. “Reg, I’m not intimidated by some arrogant Gryffindor. You’re still my friend and that’s that.”
A smile played at Regulus’ lips.
“Has Sirius done this every time?” I pondered. He shrugged, giving me my confirmation. I harbored a slightly bigger grudge against the older Black.
Later that night, I found resolve to go and find Sirius and his little gang of marauders and deal a few threats of my own. He and his posse were hanging out under a tree in the yard as the sun began to settle in the Scottish mountains.
“Oi, little black sheep!” I called, stalking up to him. Sirius immediately squared up and drew his wand, his three friends flanking him.
“I told you not to call me that,” He sneered.
“I really couldn’t care less,” I snapped back. “But you need to stay away from Regulus,”
Sirius barked a laugh and was joined by his friends. It didn’t sway my determination. “Oh, yeah?” He snickered. “And why is that?”
“Because every time you threaten one of his friends, they leave him. And now he has one friend and abandonment issues,” Seething, I crossed my arms. “So, don’t you dare act all high and mighty.”
I could see him falter in his confidence at my words, as if he had no idea.
“Reg has always said he’s fine,” He argued weakly.
“He looks up to you Sirius,” My tone softened. “I don’t think he wants to disappoint you,”
“You’re lying,” I watched Sirius’ defenses go back up. “That’s all you Slytherins do,”
I flinched slightly at his accusation as I turned to leave, knowing it was a lost cause at this point. Sirius was too caught up in his own fantasy.
“Fine,” I shrugged. “Don’t believe me, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,”
Walking down the hall, back to my dorm, Sirius caught my hand, and we were alone on the staircases as the shifted in the grand room of portraits. His blue eyes met mine, a thousand questions in them, but only a few in mine that he seemed to be able to read.
“Why... why would you say that?” Sirius seemed as if he had a hard time asking the question, to bare any sort of emotion in front of me.
“Because believe it or not, I care about your brother.” I understood his hesitancy to admit his feelings because I was having a hard time finding the words myself. “I... he’s like family to me, Sirius. Surely you must understand what that’s like,”
He pursed his lips and nodded, a hand running through his long, tousled, raven hair. “Look out for him, yeah?” Sirius baited.
I nodded, and we parted ways. I paused at the bottom of the staircase and glanced over my shoulder to him. He had done the same thing I had at the top of the stairs. Our eyes meeting a brief moment broke the pull between us as we both went on our way. But it left me thinking that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
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“So, did you tell her off?” James asked, fidgeting with a snitch, lounging on a couch in the common room.
“Yeah,” Sirius could barely manage a smile with the lie as he headed straight to his room.
Sirius was confused. He could hear your voice taunting that it wouldn’t take much in his head. He let out a groan to clear you from his thoughts as he perched on the window seat, staring at the stars.
He hated Slytherins. He hated every Slytherin he had ever met. His family, his parents, their friends. They were all dreadful and he loathed them more than anything in the world. His only exception was Regulus. Sirius wasn’t surprised when his little brother was sorted into Slytherin. He knew it was coming. He hated every Slytherin, but Regulus.
“I care about your brother, he’s like family to me,” Your words played on an endless loop in his mind.
Surely you couldn’t be as bad as the other Slytherins if you had befriended and defended his brother. There weren’t many that would stand up to him and his friends for the sake of another. Sure, any Slytherin was proud enough to stand for themselves, but you surprised him. You stood for his little brother. Against him of all people. So maybe he hated every Slytherin but Regulus, and he could tolerate you. And your attitude. And your confidence. And your loyalty. And your honesty.
And maybe you started to smile at him in the halls. And maybe he always noticed you because you were always with Regulus. Whispered words between you and his brother that would make you flush a bright pink and shove Regulus, both of you laughing, leaving Sirius wondering what the hell had made you blush so hard. Then those smiles became waves and taunts in the halls that made him laugh and glance over his shoulder just to watch you leave.
“Not two months ago were you about to hex her to next week and now you’re flirting with her?” James demanded in the hall one afternoon. “What the hell Pads?”
“Just leave it,” Sirius snapped. “She’s friends with Reg, so I might as well be civil.”
“There’s civil then there’s whatever the hell you two have going on, mate,” Remus pointed out.
“She’s a Slytherin, mate,” James warned. “They’re all the same. Look at Snivilus, you really want to date that?”
Sirius blanched and sighed. “Look, it’s nothing okay? She’s just friendly to my brother and I don’t want to ruin that for him, that’s all. She’s nothing to me,”
Then Sirius caught your eye in the hall, but you weren’t smiling at him this time. You looked defeated and pissed. A dangerous thing. Regulus held the same look of disapproval beside you. Sirius’ hand went to his wand, ready for backlash from you, but for the first time since he’s met you, you turned your back and walked away.
Sirius panicked and took off to follow you and paused around the corner, listening to your conversation with his brother.
“He probably didn’t mean it,” Regulus tried to comfort.
“I’m fine,” You huffed. “It’s fine.”
“Y/n,” Regulus called.
“Enough!” You shouted, and Sirius flinched at your raised tone. “Don’t you get it? It was always going to end like this. It’s better that I walk away now before it’s too late,”
“Y/n,” Regulus sounded desperate. “Please don’t give up on him,”
“He gave up on me, there’s nothing I can do about that,” You sighed and there was nothing more to be heard or said. Sirius leaned up against the wall, feeling like a total prick.
“Come on, mate,” Remus said sympathetically. “We’re gonna be late,”
And Sirius walked away, trapped in his own mind by the look of betrayal on your face. He wanted to go back and say something different. He wanted you to not be there when he said those stupid things. He wanted to find you and try to explain. Nothing could be done now. He sealed his fate.
The permanent look of despondency on your features bothered him. More than he cared to admit it bothered him. You didn’t smile at him in the hall anymore. You and Regulus didn’t whisper hushed secrets any longer. There was no more banter, no more reason to laugh. Without your smile everything around him was a bit lackluster.
What really crushed him, however, was when he saw you in the halls, not with his brothers, but rather his three cousins, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda. The same air of disdain they held appeared on your face. Like they had sucked you in.
That was the line for him.
He stopped short in the middle of the hall and stalked over to you, grabbing your arm and he dragged you to an empty hallway.
You didn’t dare to meet his eyes. As if you couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Y/n,” Sirius began. “Bellatrix? Really? What the hell are you thinking?” Oh, that was so not the thing to say and he realized that very quickly.
“I’m sorry,” You snarled. “I didn’t know you cared. I’m nothing to you Sirius, so my friends are none of your concern.” It was like a slap to the face.
“I didn’t mean what I said! That day! It was stupid! I was stupid!” Sirius argued back.
“I’m glad you figured that out. But it’s too late Sirius. I know my place. I never should have acted like I belonged anywhere else.” The coldness of your words seeped under his skin. “So, thank you for the reminder,”
“And what about Reg?” Sirius asked, “Are you just going to ditch him for your new ‘friends’?”
There was a softness and moment of doubt in your features and for a moment Sirius saw the old you seep through.
“Of course not,” You words were still cold, but not as harsh. “He’s family,”
You left him there dumbfounded, more confused, and angrier at himself than he was before he had the conversation with you. It was foolish of him to think that a few words could sway you. Not after what he had said to make you so... distant.
“Still no luck?” Remus asked softly. Sirius shook his head and flopped on the couch, defeated.
“She’s a Slytherin, mate,” James tried to appease. “You don’t need her,”
Sirius’ glare became cold and unforgiving as he sat up. “It’s your bloody fault that I’m in this mess! You couldn’t just leave her alone could you!? You couldn’t just let us be!?”
“Don’t get so bent out,” James argued. “You’ll find someone else,”
“Go to hell, Potter,” Sirius muttered, stalking out of the common room and into the drafty halls of the night.
Sirius wandered with no direction. Muttering to himself and sighing, he barely heard your voice in the vast quiet and darkness.
“Leave me alone,” You threatened, sounding unsteady. “I’m not in the mood,”
“Ickle Slytherin have no fire left in her then?” Another taunted. Sirius took off running, wand drawn.
“I said leave me alone!” Your voice was more frantic as he heard the other voice cast a disarming spell and the clattering of a wand on the cold stones of the castle.
“You’re going to have to try harder than that darling,” The assailant chuckled. “Where are your little friends now? I thought Slytherins were loyal?”
Sirius rounded the corner and saw you pressed against a wall, looking defiant even still. He could see you shaking, a wand under your throat. Your attacker caressed your face gently, too close for anyone’s comfort. Your eyes flashed to his, terrified. It was just enough to distract your aggressor.
With no regrets Sirius casted a stunning spell, overtaking your attacker. You about collapsed, but Sirius was there to catch you.
______________________________
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My fingers curled into the cotton of his shirt, clinging to him desperately. I couldn’t stop myself from shaking. I couldn’t stop myself from hiding my face in his shoulder. I couldn’t stop myself from crying.
He hushed me softly, wrapping his arms around me tightly.
“It’s over now,” He consoled. “It’s over, you’re safe,”
“He... I... Sirius,” I sniffled.
“I’m here,” He whispered. “I’m right here,”
“Y/n!” I knew that voice. I trusted that voice. “Sirius, what happened? What did you do?”
“Nothing, Regulus,” Sirius snapped. “She was...” He growled. “I’ll tell you later. Can you go get Slughorn and McGonagall, I need to get her to Pomfrey,”
Something must have passed between him that I didn’t see because I heard Reg’s retreating footsteps.
“Can you walk?” Sirius asked softly, and it took me a moment to realize he was speaking to me.
A long enough moment that instead of allowing me to test his question, he gathered me into his arms and began to carry me. I still clung to him, pressing my face to his shoulder, and trying to find the will to take deep breaths. With each breath I took, Sirius’ scent surrounded me. Leather, cotton, fire whiskey, fresh air... I focused on that.
“Oh dear,” I heard Pomfrey flit about, asking Sirius questions about what happened, not caring to listen for the answers.
I felt myself being set down, but the small, scared girl inside of me was not allowing that. She fought against it, gripping tighter to the familiar comfort and warmth. There was a soft chuckle from my safe haven and the motion to set me down stopped.
I dared to open my eyes and look around, and sure enough, we were in the hospital wing. Sirius held me in his lap as he stretched out into a cot, pulling a blanket around my shoulders.
“Sirius, I—”
“Drink,” He didn’t let me finish as he shoved a glass of water into my hands.
“But—” I paused after seeing the steady determination in his eyes and I began to drain the glass of chilled water. He freed my hands of the empty glass and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Better?” He spoke with utmost care and softness. I nodded.
“Mr. Black!” I heard the shrill of McGonagall’s voice and flinched harder than I meant to. “I choose to let a lot of things slide, but there has to be a line somewhere!”
“Don’t yell at him,” I croaked. “He saved me,”
The professor backtracked, as Slughorn rounded her, concerned with my health.
“Are you alright my dear?” The professor asked, reaching out to check me for a fever, yet between my cringe and Sirius’ growl, he paused. “Seems like we have much to discuss,”
“Tomorrow,” Sirius affirmed. “She needs to rest,”
“Then off to bed with you Mr. Black,” McGonagall ordered.
“Best not, Minnie,” Pomfrey cautioned. “I’m afraid with the current situation, Mr. Black would do her more good here than if he left,”
McGonagall scrutinized us, then sighed, her resolve leaving her.
“Very well,”
The lights dimmed and Sirius and I were left in the quiet of the night. His hand absentmindedly ran through my hair as I tucked my head back into the crook of his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I choked out.
“You’re safe now,” He murmured.
“Sirius I—” I had no words to say.
“I’m sorry,” He found the words I wanted to say and gave them to me. “I should have defended you. I know you’re different. I know you’re not like them,”
“You were there when it counted the most,” Tears pricked my eyes. “I was so scared,”
“I know, I know,” He soothed, rubbing my arm. “It’s all over now,”
“I’m so sorry,” I cried softly.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I felt him press his lips to the crown of my head in a gesture of comfort and safety.
A quiet moment passed between us.
“I love you, Sirius,” It was muffled and tearstained, but it was true. “
I... I love you too,”
.
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Can you do a lost boys x reader where the reader is getting sent love notes by an unknown person. (A secret admirer). Like notes are being left on her front door. How would the boys react to that?
I haven’t done one of these in forever. I assume you mean fem!reader cause you put ‘her’. Hope you enjoy :)
The Lost Boys x Fem!Reader That Has a Secret Admirer
David
David knows that lots of guys/girls would love to be yours, but there is no way they’re going to have that chance. With David around? No way. David doesn’t get jealous very easily, unless he feels like he’s being threatened. Like if he feels like someone actually might steal you away from him, then he’ll feel jealous. Whenever David does feel jealous he always hides it. He doesn’t want to seem like an overthinking clingy boyfriend to you.
When notes started being left at your front door, David thought nothing of it. Love notes? He thought that was kind of cheesy, and there’s no way your secret admirer would have the guts to approach you when you had David around. Flowers with chocolates? Okay, now he’s a little bit interested. A note saying that your secret admirer wants to meet you at a certain place and certain time? Okay, that’s it. Now David has had enough, and he wants to know who this person is.
David will try his best not to show that he’s jealous, but on the inside he’s ready to kill your secret admirer. He knows that you are gorgeous, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to try to steal you away from him. If the notes and flowers made you uncomfortable, David wouldn’t hesitate to get ready for murder. David believes that if someone is bothering you, then it’s his job to get rid of them. If you didn’t care too much for the notes, David still would want to know who your secret admirer is.
If it was a little boy/girl sending you the love notes, David would be pretty shocked. He wouldn’t exactly know what to do since he expected them to be a lot older. (little kid as in ages 5-11). When he found out he didn’t know what to say. He’s was actually pretty impressed that a young kid was able to write the love notes so romantically. David knows now that killing your secret admirer is out of the question. Mainly cause you wouldn’t let him, and even David doesn’t like killing kids. All David would do is just tell the kid that you are taken, but that they could still be friends with you.
If it was someone around your age that wanted you, David would get his fangs ready. No creep is gonna make you uncomfortable and get away with it. At first he’d let your admirer know that you are taken. If he/she apologizes then David would let them go...for the night. Once you’re asleep he’s kill them. No matter what the reaction of your admirer is, David is still gonna murder them.
If your secret admirer is someone a lot older than you (like middle age or older) David would be disgusted. He definitely didn’t expect someone that’s twice your age to be sending you love letters. David would be ready to kill them immediately. He wouldn’t even bother telling the person that you’re taken. All David would want is to see the person die. He thinks that the disgusting person deserved it for going after someone who’s not only uninterested, but a lot younger than them.
Dwayne
Dwayne is aware that lots of people would kill to have you, but Dwayne has a lot of faith in you. He knows you wouldn’t cheat on him, but that doesn’t stop him from getting jealous at times. Dwayne overthinks when he gets jealous. The last thing he’d ever want is for you to leave him for someone else. Whenever Dwayne is jealous he gets a little bit protective. Anyone who looks at you at the boardwalk is getting a dirty look. He’ll never tell you when he’s jealous since he usually realizes quickly that he had just been overreacting.
When the first love note was dropped at your door, Dwayne was a little taken aback. He thought it was a little strange that someone would leave notes saying that they loved you yet they hadn’t even met you yet. The jealousy started to rise in Dwayne when flowers started to appear at your doorstep. Even though you didn’t know this person, Dwayne already knew that your secret admirer wasn’t going to stop sending you flowers and notes until they had you for themselves. They really were in love with you, and that made Dwayne’s blood boil.
Since Dwayne didn’t know who was sending you the notes, he had no clue who to look out for on the boardwalk. Dwayne doesn’t usually get clingy when he’s jealous, but in this case he did. While you were at the boardwalk with him, he either had his arm around your shoulder, or he was wrapping them around your waist. Dwayne didn’t want to take any chances. If your secret admirer was watching you, then Dwayne wanted them to know that you’re taken. Since he didn’t know what your secret admirer looked like, Dwayne death starred anyone who gave you a flirtatious look. No one is taking his girl.
Eventually, Dwayne did find out who your secret admirer was. If it was a young kid (ages 5-11), Dwayne would have been a little embarrassed. He had been jealous over nothing. Obviously this little kid wasn’t going to be able to steal you away from Dwayne. He thought it was adorable that this little kid was sending you notes and flowers, but he also felt a little bad cause he didn’t want to break the kids heart. Dwayne told the child in the most polite way he could that you were taken. Of course he didn’t kill the kid. Dwayne would never kill a child even if he was forced to.
If it was someone around your age, Dwayne’s jealousy level would have skyrocketed. He would definitely tell the person that you were taken and to stop sending the notes and flowers. If the person apologized and promised to never to do it again, Dwayne would let them go. He’s not really a revenge type of guy. Unless the person refused to stop sending notes. Then Dwayne would be out to kill, and your secret admirer would never see daylight again.
If your secret admirer was someone much older than you (middle age or older) Dwayne would definitely make sure that their face ends up on a missing poster. Someone the age of your parents sending you love letters? Dwayne found that to be just flat out disgusting. Dwayne is usually a pretty polite and mature guy, but if this person was making you feel uncomfortable then Dwayne will make sure that they’re dead by that night.
Paul
Paul isn’t one to get jealous all that easily. It’s pretty rare when he does. He knows that there are many people in the world who would love to steal you away, but he knows that they have no chance. With a vampire like Paul around you almost all the time? Yeah, there’s no way anyone would have the guts to approach you. The only times Paul does get jealous is if someone else made you laugh or smile. It might sound silly, but it’s a big deal for Paul. No one should make you laugh or smile but him and only him.
When the love notes started to appear at your door, Paul thought it was kind of humorous. Someone chicken didn’t have the guts to approach you, so they used cheesy love notes. When flowers appeared at your doorstep, Paul started to get a little suspicious. He didn’t want to seem jealous, but he doesn’t hide it very well at all. The second you commented on the nice flowers, Paul started to get annoyed and whiny. Someone you didn’t even know had just made you smile, and for that Paul already hated your secret admirer.
Paul didn’t want to loose you over someone you didn’t even know, so he decided two can play at that game. If someone was going to send you love notes and flowers, then Paul was going to do the same. Every time he saw some flowers and notes at your front door, he’d get rid of them and put some flowers and notes that he bought you on your doorstep. Of course he didn’t tell you, but you still managed to find out. You found out when you recognized Paul’s handwriting on one of the notes. Paul denied it of course, but he still wanted to know who your secret admirer was.
If it was a young boy/girl (ages 5-11), Paul would have been extremely relieved, and also surprised. This little kid really know what he/she wants, but unfortunately they’re not going to be able to get it. Paul was a little disappointed that he couldn’t exactly rub it in this kids face that you were taken. He felt bad for breaking it to the kid, but he explained to him/her that rejection is part of life. Not exactly in Paul’s life but in everyone else’s life. He’d also probably dab up the kid and tell them that they have good taste.
If it was someone around your age, Paul would be ready to embarrass the hell out of them. He’d start by walking up to him/her on the boardwalk with you under his arm, and the Paul would tell them, “Sorry! She’s taken! Find someone else to stalk and give love notes to!” as loud as he could so other people at the boardwalk would hear. If you’d tell him to stop he’d be like, “Aww, come on babe! It was funny!”. After completing embarrassing them, Paul would end the embarrassment by killing your admirer that night.
If your secret admirer was someone much older than you (middle age or older) Paul would probably start laughing his ass off. This person who was twice your age really had the audacity to try and win you over. Paul was not laughing sarcastically, it was real. He laughed so hard he lost his breath. He’d look at you and go “this old fuck is your secret admirer?!” before cracking up once again. Paul made sure that the person was thoroughly embarrassed before telling them you were his girlfriend. After that fiasco, Paul still killed your admirer, and tried not to laugh when doing so.
Marko
Marko does get jealous, and when he does it’s easy to tell. He usually gets jealous when some guy on the boardwalk looks at you or catcalls you. It’s hard to not realize that Marko is jealous when he’s literally up and punching this guy in the jaw for what he did. Marko won’t admit that he was jealous though, he’ll just say it was his job to beat up that guy. I wouldn’t ever make Marko jealous on purpose cause he’d literally paralyze anyone who winks at you.
When the first love note appeared at your front door Marko thought it was the most cliche thing he’d ever read. Whoever wrote this was totally head over heels for you. It took everything out of Marko to not find out whoever this person was and beat the shit out of them. When the flowers appeared at your doorstep, Marko was down right finished with this. He wanted to beat up your secret admirer so badly. But, there was one problem. He didn’t know who it was.
Marko didn’t really know what to do since he had no clue what your secret admirer looked like, so he looked for anyone that looked like they wanted you. When he saw someone flirt with you? The bomb just exploded, and Marko was on top of that person beating the shit out of them. He punched them so hard that it left bruises on his knuckles. Marko had done this before you had a secret admirer, but now he was ready to beat up anyone who looked at you just in case they’d be your secret admirer.
If your secret admirer turned out to be a little kid (ages 5-11) Marko would’ve felt like an idiot. He was also absolutely flabbergasted that this little kid was able to send you letter and flowers without ever having an officially meeting you. Marko was quite impressed. This kid was confident. But, unfortunately Marko had to break the news to the kid that you were taken. In a way he was a little disappointed that he couldn’t beat up your secret admirer since it was a kid. Instead, Marko told them that there is plenty of fish in the sea, and the right one for them will come soon enough.
If your secret admirer turned out to be someone around your age, let’s just say Marko would leave a dent in their face. A big one. When Marko first found out who it was he wanted to throw up. It was another young guy/girl that wanted to steal you away, and there is no way in hell that Marko would let that happen. The second Marko had the opportunity he had his fist meeting your admirers face. He punched them a few more times before he was taken away by some security. That night, Marko finished the job, and your admirers face was now on a missing poster.
If your secret admirer was someone much older than you (middle age or older) Marko would have been totally grossed out. This old person was in love with you? In a way he felt bad for you. Marko was ready to beat the shit out of your admirer the minute he saw them. Especially now that he knew there was at least a 30 year difference between you two. Marko didn’t care if he looked bad beating up someone who was old. They’re a disgusting pig for trying to get with someone much younger than them, so in Marko’s eyes they deserved it. Marko did end up killing them, and he even didn’t bother eating the remains.
#the lost boys david#the lost boys dwayne#the lost boys paul#the lost boys marko#the lost boys 1987#the lost boys x reader#the lost boys headcanon#the lost boys imagines#david the lost boys#dwayne the lost boys#paul the lost boys#marko the lost boys#lost boys david#lost boys dwayne#lost boys paul#lost boys marko#david lost boys#dwayne lost boys#paul lost boys#marko lost boys
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Iwaizumi NSFW Alphabet
just remebered that this is my blog and I control the iwa smut
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He’s pretty good, he catches on pretty quick to what you like and will usally have some water and snacks on hand by the bed so he doesn’t have to get up to take care of you. Also, his after sex massages are godly
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Okay I know this sounds weird but he has this treasure trail on his stoumach that he is sooo cocky about. He knows it drives you wild when you see it (cus like it is very hot) and he loves to show it off as much as posible
On his partner? hes all about the ass. Big small, round or flat he doesn’t care he loves the booty no matter what besides it’s not like you’re flatter than Oikawa anyways
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
So conflicted when hes about to cum because on the one hand you look so good covered in his release and when you scoop up his semen with your fingers and lick it off your hand oh god nothing gets him harder. but on the other hand when he’s pounding into you it’s like your body is begging for him to cum inside so usally he makes you tell him where you want it.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He would gladly Cuck Oikawa or let Oikawa watch, sex and putting Shittykowa in his place are Iwa’s two favoret things so why not combine them
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s had a few partners but he’s not really a fuckboi, he likes having a steady partner so he can get to know their body rather than a string of one night stands.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Doggy, like I said he’s all about your ass and he will spank you while fucking you, He’ll also push your head down onto the bed if you aren’t arching your back enough for his taste.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He’s more serious in the moment but that isn’t to say he isn’t capable of finding the humor in things. He loves to tease you and it often helpd break the tension if something awkward happed. IE you asked him to spike your ass like a volleyball and he laughed at you for an hour straight before doing just that.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
it’s a little messy, don’t get me wrong it’s still all clean down there but like unless you ask him to shave he’s keeping the bush.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
The romance really comes after everything is all said and done, like he won’t have any sweet words for you in the heat of the moment but that’s mostly becuase his mind goes totally blank when he fucks and he can’t formed words.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
sometimes, mostly just to tease you. he’ll send you a video of him jerking off and moaning your name with some caption like “doesn’t this look a lot better than studying” to get you to come over and get him off for real. If you really can’t come fix his issue he’ll still send you a video of him cumming all over himself cus he’s nice like that
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
daddy kink plain and simple. he just loves heairng you cry out for daddy while he eats you like it’s is last meal but he also likes it when youre just like “hey daddy can you grab that for me?” cus like yeah he is your daddy even out of the bedroom. Rip to you if you say that infront of the team
public sex you are getting fingered in public 100% he doesn’t want to get caught persay. but he’s sure as hell not afraid to. as they say no risk no reward. you have also defently fucked in the boys changing room... and sucked him off in the club room, and gotten fingered in the volley ball storage closet. It’s a mericall no one from the team has caught you two yet.
cock warming. He tries to work it into every sesion of aftercare its just nice to have his cock inside you even if it’s soft. makes him feel closer to you. watch out becuase the two of you will just be cuddling and watching a movie and boom his dick is out and hes looking at you like “so you gonna sit on that or what?”
roleplay? kind he gets really turned on when you roll up your uniform skirt and start “acting like a slutty little school girl” and he pretendeds he’s a teacher punishing you for braking dresscode. this is all in his head by the way, hes a little too ashamed to admit why he wants you to keep your clothes on while he fucks you or ask you to call him sensei.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Like I said anywhere in public is a rush for him, but his absolute favorite is in the shower Aoba Johsai locker room shower. The water just hightens everything and your moans echo beautifully off the tiles.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
when you complemt him. “Wow iwa that was such a great spike you’re so strong!” “wow Iwa I never realised how mucular you are,” “oh Iwa that was a great game you looked so cool out there!” are all sure fire ways to get your back blone out.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
ight hear me out! hes not into choking. Iwa just doesn’t trust himself enough to do it right in the heat of things and would never want to hurt you (yes he leaves bruises on your ass he spanks you so hard yes he doesn’t want to choke you until you black out) if you really want him to choke you he’ll do it, but like while you're riding a toy or something so he doesn’t get distracted.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He perfers receving tbh. you just look so cute on your knees gagging on his cock (choking on his dick and choking on his hand are two difrent things stfu) Iwa lives to condicened to you while you’re trying to fix his XL meat in your mouth
“you’re such a pretty baby, if only there wasn’t a big fat cock making you cry but you’re so much of a whore to let go of my dick now that it’s in your mouth isn’t that right?” stuff like that.
also his head game is godly. he holds your hands and kisses yo right on your sex then procieds to send you to anouther plain of existance with his mouth. he won’t let up until you're crying. you make such a mess every time, not that either of care.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
unless its a special occasion he’s rough and brutal. real head board braking motherfucker RIP to (y/n)’s hips they are fucking gone
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He kinda has to be quick when you too are banging where someone could walk in any second. But he does perfer to take his time with you especially since he loves to make you cum over and over again.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Once he hits a grove he kinda likes to stick to what he knows. He might drag his feet a little but he’ll ussally try new things.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
oh my god good luck he can go forever if you let him. the only time you can even hope of going less than three rounds is if he just had a big game and he’s tiered from it, even then games tend to rile him up more than anything.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He owns a pocket pussy, not that he uses it much. He’s fine with using toys on you as long as he’s the one in control. Doesn’t like it if he finds out you’ve been using a vibe somwhere without him.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
It depends. Normally he doesn’t tease much he’s pretty straightforword and would rather just get down and dirty about it. But if he feels like you’ve earned a good teasing? good luck. He’s patient and he knows your body so well he can have you in a mess in less than a minute and he’ll keep you there until you’re begging for him.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Not very loud, lots of grunts and deep huffs if he’s talking it’s broken phrases repeated over and over again “you feel so good, so good so good,” “who’s cock is making you cum? who’s cock? who’s cock?” like I said his mind shuts off when he’s fucking you. He does tend to shout when he cums though.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He loves fingering you something about seeing his hands work on your body really gets him going. He like how deep his figners can go, how much they make you squirm. How the veins and the tendions on the back of his hand look while he slowly edges into three knucles deep.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
do I even have to say it? big cock citty population Iwaizumi Hajime. It’s a little longer than average and a little gatherer than you’d maybe ecpect and it really streaches you out. The head is a flushed read color and it’s sesitive as hell. please suck on the tip of his cock while fodleing his heavy balls he will literally cum in seconds.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
not very high. He’s always ready to go when you are but most of the time he’s just chill with hanging out. Unless he just won a game or you are wearing some of his clothes in wich case he is defently horny.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
please, you rock his world but you’re not half the work out a five set volleyball game is. He is fine to go to like the gym or something after sex even if you are completely wreaked. but if you ask him to cuddle and happen to fall asleep, well a nap wouldn’t kill him right?
#iwazumi hajime#iwazumi x reader#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu smut#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi x y/n
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James takes a deep, shuddering breath. It’s filled with salt and wet sand – a combination that he doesn’t entirely mind. It’s not comforting, but it’s grounding. It lets him know he’s still here, still living.
Heavy clouds of grey linger just above his head, and rain pelts down on him from the Heavens. He feels as if that’s a sign for him to turn back; the world wants to drown him in rain. But he doesn’t turn around and run; he stays rooted to where he is, letting his feet sink down into the murky, salty sand.
It pulls him down like a deadweight, clinging him to the world. Trying to rip away his choice of future.
He hasn’t been to a Muggle beach in months. Since his honeymoon, when the war was just something in the background. When he didn’t have to worry who lived and who died.
He’s standing on the very edge of the shoreline at this point, the waves lapping gently at his feet. There’s nobody else around, no yelling kids and obnoxious tourists – it’s the middle of the night, they’re most likely asleep.
James half wishes he could be asleep.
He shakes his head dismissively. He will sleep, he’ll get to sleep. His mind wanders back to the motel room he rented at the beginning of the week. It was dirty and horrible, but it was exactly what he wanted.
Once he'd stepped foot in there, he collapsed onto the bed and didn’t move until he brought himself down here, to the beach.
It was about a mile walk. But he didn’t care. He’d spent years doing Quidditch, so walking a mile was nothing to him. In a way, he wishes it was harder, so it felt like he achieved something by getting here.
If he felt that, maybe he would turn around and make it two miles. But then this would have been a pointless journey, and he wasn’t ready to cave so easily.
His eyes scan the ocean in front of him slowly. It’s inky, with thin strips of pale moonlight bouncing off the water. He looks up to see the near-full moon, but it’s okay. It’s retreating, getting smaller, meaning Remus won’t have to suffer for a few more weeks.
Remus. Sirius. Peter. His family, from all the way back in Hogwarts. A small frown mixes onto his face, but he quickly brushes it away.
They’d understand, if they knew. They wouldn’t be happy, but they’d understand, it would all be okay. Not supportive, not satisfied, but understanding.
He turns his eyes to the sky and sighs. He easily locates the Sirius star, and then Andromeda. It takes him a few minutes to find the constellation he’s after, but it’s there, shining as bright as ever just above the pale moon.
The Leo constellation, home to the Regulus star.
He smiles softly, eyes focusing on that gleaming dot. He subconsciously reaches up, as if to try and touch it, to grasp it tight and never let go.
I’m coming home, he thinks, taking a step forward. We’ll be okay when I get home, I promise you.
James takes another step forward. The sand is thicker here, soaked from the salty water now kissing his ankles. He sighs, almost dreamily, and keeps trudging forward.
His eyes never leave that star.
He keeps going until he’s waist deep. For a second, James contemplates just lying back and letting the water carry him away, but decides against it.
That’s prolonging what he wants, and knowing his luck, he’ll be spat back onto shore.
He has to go home.
By now, his owl would have reached the Lupin household. No doubt one of them would be awake when it arrived, and as soon as they recognised it, an ear-splitting scream would echo through the home.
The other would wake, hurrying down, wand grasped tightly in their hand. They’d expect danger, maybe a death eater; they wouldn’t expect their husband, crumpled on the living room floor, coffee staining the carpet, a letter clutched in their hands.
Instantly, they would know. Both had been expecting this, yet neither would admit it.
They would just sink to their knees and hug their partner tightly. There, the pair would spend the night, sobbing and grieving, knowing they’re too late to do anything to help.
They wouldn’t be happy. They wouldn’t be satisfied. But they would be understanding.
And that's all he wants.
That thought spurs a smile onto James’ face as he keeps moving forward. Now, the water is taking control, the waves only growing more vicious. They carry him further from the sand until his feet no longer touch the sea floor and his head is submerged under their power.
He doesn’t fight it long. Naturally, he gasps for air and flails his arms, kicking his legs. But then, he stops, freezes, tenses up, and lets himself sink further away from that star.
Eyes wide open, lips parted yet twisted into a small smile. The water fills his lungs, dragging him down, as his eyes sting from the salt seeping into them.
He isn’t supposed to feel happy, he knows that. He’s drowning, for crying out loud, he’s shaking death by the hand.
But it’s fine – that’s what he wanted.
He feels his eyes glaze over as every ounce of energy is burnt from his body. His brain begins to shut down, very slowly but surely, and he lets himself just sink further and further.
He feels dead, his body is dying. But just before he takes his last, deep inhale of water, he sees a figure floating down towards him.
The hair is as dark as the ocean itself, mixing and flurrying everywhere. The person isn’t straining or fighting; they’re letting themselves be carried down easily, just like James had.
He recognises the face when a hand reaches out for him, as pale as the moonlight. There’s a small on his face, which looks young and rested and happy.
Regulus.
His eyes shine with his thoughts, so that no words are needed. He thinks, you shouldn’t have done this. You can’t ever wake up.
And James simply thinks, why would I want to wake up without you?
His arm is pulled up to grasp onto Regulus’, and as soon as they touch, James feels himself be pulled into a void, sucked away from the Earth, as if being transported to a different plane of life.
They’re dead.
#harry potter#marauders#hogwarts#james potter#gryffindor#textpost#remus lupin#sirius black#slytherin#ravenclaw#regulus black#jegulus#jegulus fanfic#wolfstar#fanfiction#harry potter fanfic#drowning#trigger warning#tw#cw#content warning#canon#idk what this is#fuck im sad
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okay, last request i promise!! mc and asmo are having a sleepover and they're putting make up on each other and it's really cute and fluffy. like ik asmo is the avatar of lust and all but i headcanon him as one of the most fluffy characters in the game idk
Slumber Party
Asmo x GN!MC Fluff
Word Count: 1408
Warnings: MC was bullied in the past :(, They also take a bath together but no funny business what so ever I pinky promise
Summary: Asmodeus finds out MC has never had a slumber party before and he refuses to let their life continue without experiencing a slumber party with the king of slumber parties himself
Ever since MC had arrived in the Devildom, Asmodeus had been inviting them to have a sleepover in his room. No matter how much he begged and pleaded with them to join him one night they said no every. Single. Time.
The Avatar was beginning to grow worried that MC was scared to be alone with him due to his sin.
“MC, I promise I’m not planning anything naughty!” He gave his best puppy dog eyes as he asked for the nth time to have MC in his room for the night. “I pinky promise all I want to do is normal slumber party stuff! We can do face masks and play with makeup, or we can play truth or dare - or truth or truth if that makes you more comfortable,” he pouts.
“Asmo, don’t worry I know you wouldn’t try anything dirty without my consent, i-its more of a me problem I guess…” MC trails off.
“Oh?” He cutely tilts his head in confusion, causing MC to sigh and finally tell him why they’d been denying him since day one.
“In the human world I never had many friends,” they start, “and I guess because of that I was never invited to an actual sleepover unless you count one time in middle school when the popular kids had me over and humiliated me all night for their entertainment,” MC clenches their fists at the memory of being taunted after showing up so excited for their first slumber party.
“EH?! Seriously? Did someone invite you just to tease you? What a douche. MC please have a slumber party with me, I promise I won’t mock you or taunt you and I’ll show you a nice sleepover where we both relax and chill together,” Asmo holds MC’s hand in his own gently against his chest in a comforting fashion.
MC stares into his eyes for a moment, searching for any sign of ingenuine intentions. They let out a soft sigh as they fail to find any ill intent inside the fifth eldest demon lord. “...Okay, your room or mine?”
-
At 7 pm sharp, MC makes their way through the house of Lamentation, a bag and pillow tucked under their arms before they knock on the door that is almost immediately ripped open with surprisingly strong yet feminine arms pulling them into the blush-colored room filled with the scent of roses.
They look around and see Asmo had a bunch of areas set up, ready for them to do a night of intense self-care and relaxing activities together.
“Here, put your bag in the corner for now, and you can put the pillow on the bed! OH IM SO EXCITED!” the rose eyes male squeals. “Where should we start? Makeovers or dress up?”
“Um I suppose we could dress up first so we know the makeup will match our outfits,” MC says shyly.
“Ah! Good thinking! You’re such a cute genius, MC,” Asmodeus giggles giving MC a soft boop on the nose before dragging them to his walk-in closet.
-
“I knew you would look good in [fav color], MC!” Asmo praises, twirling them around and looking at the two of them in the mirror in their new outfits. “Now let’s get some makeup to match, then we can have a mini photoshoot!”
Asmodeus pulls two chairs in front of his vanity, digging through a drawer and pulling out the makeup he thinks will match their skin tone and outfit, placing them next time as he leans forward with a primer on his hands, rubbing it onto MC’s skin. He puts it to the side before grabbing the foundation and getting to work.
MC and Asmo post in his mirror taking hundreds of photos. “Wait Asmo can we do duck lips!” MC asks excitedly giggling their head off.
“OMD YESSSS” He dramatically pushes out his lips and MC follows before he snaps a few photos. They laugh as they strike more poses and then perform like professional photographers for each other.
“Are you going to put these on Devilgram, Asmo?” MC smiles hoping he’d think they were good enough to feature on his perfectly aesthetic Devilgram page.
“Duh, who would be so cruel as to keep these pictures to themselves when they’re so stunning!” He smiles selecting a few photos to post. As he is scrolling through all the photos one of MC catches his eye. In the photo, they are smiling and laughing after Asmo had clearly done something to crack them up. He feels his heart flutter knowing he caused that smile and moves that picture to a special folder he keeps pictures of his family in (that he will never admit he actually has).
He tosses his D.D.D onto his soft bed and lets it bounce to a stop as he grabs MC’s hand to go to the bathroom. Once they are in there he pulls out some makeup removing wipes and skincare products.
“Wow I’ve never actually gotten a good look at your bath,” MC stares at the tub of constantly perfectly hot water with rose petals and all sorts of washing products lined along the sides of it.
“Did you wanna do all of the skincare and washing off in there? The bubbles will cover both of us for the most part and I promise not to touch your no-no zones,” Asmo giggles as he sees MC’s eyes widen.
“Oh- uh- sure! As long as there’s no funny business Mr. Avatar of Lust!” They laugh giving his shoulder a playful shove.
“That’s LORD Mr. Avatar of Lust to you” he jokingly scoffs making MC laugh once more before he turns and faces the wall. “Go ahead and get in I’ll stay facing this way until you tell me to come in.”
After hearing clothes drop and the water move a bit as MC’s body descends into the steamy bubbles, he notices he isn’t actually filled with Lust at the moment, which is rare for him when someone else is in the room naked. He smiles when he realizes that he feels more adoration and relaxation in this situation than anything else.
“Wow MC, it’s kind of odd that I don’t feel lustful at the moment,” he voices his thoughts, “instead all I can think about is how excited I am to just chill out in the bath with you.” He shakes his head and lets out a chuckle.
“Well if you’re so excited then hurry up and get in here !” MC smiles at him as he turns. His eyes stay glued to their face with zero urge to wander elsewhere at that moment. He wishes he could burn that smile into his eyes and see it every second for the rest of his life.
He goes back to his room and grabs his D.D.D putting on his favorite playlist made by both of them and strips getting into the tub, bringing the face wash and makeup wipes with him before he moves through the water closer to MC, who closes their eyes as he raises a washcloth to their cheek.
MC and Asmo spend about a half-hour in the tub, relaxing and washing each other’s makeup off, then MC suddenly gets hyper and makes a mess of his bathroom. “Asmo look!” They excitedly say as they put bubbles on their chin forming a big bubbly beard making Asmo giggle.
“MC please let me take a picture of you right now you look so adorably stupid, sweetie.” Asmo grabs his D.D.D while laughing so hard he nearly snorts.
After he takes the picture and puts back his D.D.D, he gets hit in the face with water and opens his eyes to see MC laughing as they start a splash fight.
At the end of their bath, the floor is soaked with suds and water that had been splashed out by the pair and they cleaned it up before heading back into the bedroom.
“Are we sleeping on the bed together or do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Asmodeus asks.
“We can sleep in the bed together, just -”
“Yeah Yeah, no funny business I know, doll,” Asmo cuts MC off laughing.
After getting under the covers they both did that thing we all do at sleepovers where you can’t stop laughing for no reason and Lucifer came in to yell at them like the Mom he is.
#shall we date asmodeus#asmodeous#om! asmodeus#obey me asmodeus#obey me#obey me shall we date#asmodeus avatar of lust#obey me fluff#obey me fluff hc#asmodeus fluff#obey me x reader fluff#obey me imagines#obey me fanfic#obey me oneshot#obey me one master to rule them all
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Shinsou Hitoshi nsfw alphabet
damn kat back at it again with the thirst i hate myself
Idk how I haven’t done a nsfw alphabet for my KING yet but I’m disappointed in myself for it
this post was mostly finished before the whole ‘this cold makes me feel like im dying’ thing so i just had to add a few and it was ready for publishing (bonus points if you can tell which ones were added in my cold-induced craziness)
Warnings: you know it, you love it, the thirsting of a lonely writer
---
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Shinsou is a king when it comes to aftercare. Hot baths, massages, cuddles, you name it. You mean the absolute world to him, and he’ll go out of his way to show that, both in and out of the bedroom
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)
Shinsou can be pretty self critical, but if you pushed for an answer he’d probably say his hair, cause he knows how much you like it. For his partner, horny Shinsou would immediately go for your neck (literally too). He loves how a single kiss can turn you into putty in his hands, and he’ll leave marks in places he knows you can’t hide just to prove to the world that you’re his
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Inside you, on you, he doesn’t really mind. Whatever you prefer, he’s happy with. If you want to get messy, he’s more than happy to help, but if not he’ll keep you clean (ish). Although he’s unlikely to admit it, seeing you swallow his cum ignites a fire in Shinsou, and sets up quite a few more rounds so he can give you a reward for being so good
D = Dirty secret (pretty clear, a dirty secret of theirs)
Shinsou’s pretty open with what he wants, but when you first start getting intimate there’ll be a few things he doesn’t really want to say in case he scares you away (he could never, but he still worries). He wants to experiment, but he makes sure he knows your boundaries before he suggests anything too out there. The thing he keeps secret for the longest is the desire to wrap your neck in a beautiful collar emblazoned with his name, simply cause he doesn’t want you to think it’s weird
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He does his research, but hands on experience is pretty limited before you. It’s a learning curve, both of you learning what makes the other tick, what causes you the highest amount of pleasure, and what to steer clear of
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Loves to see you ride him. It gives you the power to control the tempo, but also gives him a beautiful view to tip him over the edge of ecstasy. More needy Shinsou (aka when he’s in hornball mode) likes doggy style, cause it means he can pull your hair or hold you up against him and kiss your neck
G = Goofy (how serious are they in the moment?)
He’s not going to whip out a joke book in the middle of sex, but he’s also not going to act like an uptight secretary who’s only able to follow the rules (well, not unless you ask 👀)
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Keeps himself trimmed, possibly even shaved. It’s no nonsense and means it’s also more enjoyable for you if you’re giving him head
I = Intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment?)
He’s an intimate guy, but he’s also not above teasing (though there’s another letter for that so I’ll keep on intimate for now). Like I mentioned in B, Shinsou can be pretty self critical, and sometimes he can get scared that you’ll leave him if he doesn’t prove how much he loves you, which to him means intimate sex and reassurance (aka, saying ‘I love you’ every two seconds)
J = Jack off (what are their views on masturbation?)
He does it when needed. He’s not insanely horny, so chances are if he is you’re there to deal with him. But if you’re not, and he’s especially needy, he’ll most likely call you up for a little phone session. The thought of you is incredible, but being able to see and hear you is even better
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
I think we all know the phrase kitty, right? Well inference leads me to believe that Shinsou would be down for trying out pet play. And yes, as I mentioned before, he would 100% have a collar for you with his name on it. I don’t take criticism for that one
L = Location (favorite places to do the dance with no pants)
More traditional. Sex between the two of you means intimacy, so he’d prefer privacy. You have yet to find a surface in your house he hasn’t tried to fuck you on. That being said, your comfort is of the utmost importance to Shinsou, so if he’s going to fuck you over the kitchen counter, he’s going to make sure you feel comfortable while he does it. So yes, that means he’ll take pillows off the sofa’s just to make you comfy
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going, etc)
You. Simple as. There are certain things that especially turn him on, such as you biting your lip or being extra attentive to him in what would seem like a normal scene to anyone else watching. Put your hand on his thigh when out at dinner and pay the price when you get home. Or maybe that was your plan all along
N = No (turn offs, something they wouldn’t do)
Shinsou never wants you to be in pain (well not unless you want to be in pain). He’ll leave hickies all over you, but that’s about as far as he’ll go with marking you. Maybe a spank here and there, but he won’t scar you or leave any marks that won’t be gone in a few days
O = Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving? how skilled are they?)
Shinsou prefers giving, but he’ll never say no to receiving either. He wants you to feel good, but if you decide to turn the tables he’s not going to deny you. Once you’re finished though, he’s repaying the favor tenfold. And just as a note, pull his hair when he goes down on you. He adores it
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Yes and yes. It all depends on the situation, his mood, the usual things. He’ll do whatever provides you with the most pleasure (while also allowing him to tease you)
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies)
He doesn’t love them, but if they’re the only way to get some gratification then he’s willing (only if you are though). He’s careful about location, he doesn’t want someone walking in and ruining the whole thing, even if the risk of being caught makes everything a little more exciting. Chances are he won’t engage in quickies unless he’s been to the place at least once before (he wants to know which wall you’d look best pinned to). He has to feel slightly comfortable in the environment
R = Risk (how risky are they willing to be?)
He’s down for a little risk, but nothing that would be too mortifying for you. If he’s going to screw you somewhere other than your home, he’s going to vet the place over a lot, and find the best place where you have the comfort of being private but the thrill of being caught if someone were to venture too close to your hideout
S = Stamina (how long do they last? how many rounds?)
Freaking hell where does he get it from? Like, he just doesn’t stop. Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you. Most of the rounds consist of him pleasing you, and he’ll only give in and finally fuck you when your throat is hoarse from begging, or when he feels the smallest amount of pity at the tears rolling down your face (did someone say crying kink)
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them on a partner or themselves?)
Vibrating panties. I said he doesn't physically act on desires when in public, but touching a remote isn’t the same thing as touching you, so he makes an exception. He’s not insanely cruel. For him it’s more about teasing that mortification, so if someone senses something’s wrong, he turns off the remote until they give up. But the moment they’re gone, it’s back stronger than ever
U = Unfair (how much do they tease?)
*roblox oof sound effect*
Once Shinsou gains his confidence with you, he’s not going back. His teasing is often coupled with praise, telling you how good you’re being for him while he denies you pure bliss again and again. He’ll edge you to hell and back if you give him the chance, but don’t worry, it’s worth it in the end
V = Volume (how they sound, how loud they are, etc)
Small moans and louder grunts are the main sounds coming from Shinsou when he’s enjoying himself. He swears a lot, and it’s always easy to tell how close he is to the edge by how creative his swears become. As for his partner, he wants to know how well he’s doing. He wants to hear you whine and beg while he edges you, and the pornstar-like moans that fill the air when he finally gives in and gives you what you really want
W = Wild card (a random headcanon)
You think I forgot about his quirk. Ha, I could never. I said in my hcs that it takes a while for Shinsou to integrate quirk use into sex. As much as you assure him you’re in full trust, he’s anxious about the inability to say no when he has you under his control. The longer you’re together the more willing he is, but even when he does use it it’s usually a way to make edging even more dangerous, with you unable to resist his words when he tells you you’re not allowed to cum just yet
Okay maybe we have 2 wild cards this time cause I also wanna mention his capture weapon. Again, it’ll take a while for it to be available in a less-than-pg manner, but he’s more willing to use his capture weapon than his quirk. Main reason being, you can still use a safeword when tied up. But tying up goes both ways, so even if he prefers to be the one giving the pleasure, he’d never deny your wishes
X = X-ray (let’s have a looksee in those pants)
I’m trying not to be biased cause I love him so much but I feel like Shinsou’s kinda packing. A good 8.5-9 inches (no, I won’t take criticism) and on the skinnier side. But the amount of attention he gives you before his pants are even off means taking him is never difficult
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Not the highest, but when you’re around it increases significantly. He’s not going to fuck you every time he sees you (I mean, he thinks about it) but he also isn’t a nun. It’s a good level, cause most days you can walk, and then on the weekends you’re a little bedridden
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He’s a bit of an insomniac, so screwing the energy out of him is one of the best ways to get Shinsou tired enough to sleep. He likes to hold you, so once he’s satisfied with the aftercare, he’ll crawl in bed for cuddles until the both of you pass out
#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#boku no hero#hitoshi shinsou x reader#hitoshi shinsou#hitoshi shinsou smut#bnha shinsou#Shinsou#shinsou x reader#shinsou smut#mha x reader#mha smut
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Friday Nights and Take-Out Drabble (2)
Your eyes are pretty... so are your lips.
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: strangers to friends to lovers, popstar/idol!jk, fluff, angst, future smut; this is a dialogue-heavy series so read if you’re into that!
Warnings: foul language, heavy drinking
Word count: ~1,000
Series summary: You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the cafe, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he.
series masterlist
A/N: Flashback to that first kiss!
#
You close your eyes, inhale the cool night air from the half open window of the car, and release a breath.
“That isn’t gonna magically sober you up, Y/N.”
You turn to your lap where Jungkook is lying, his smug face so beautiful you want to smack it.
“I’m just appreciating the scent of Spring, Jungkook. It smells like flowers and food.”
He was about to retort something about you and food again, but he closes his eyes instead and enjoys the bit of wind he can feel from where he’s lying.
He’s tired but content, that much you can see from his face. The second show of their Seoul concert just finished, which was followed by dinner and drinks with the guys. He offered to take you home after he convinced you to join them. “We’re leaving soon for the Asia leg and yeah,” he’d said, the words ‘I’ll miss you’ getting caught on his tongue.
You close your eyes too, enjoying the silence, recalling the show you’d just experienced. It wasn’t the first time you’d watched their concert - Jieun has dragged you to some - but it’s the first one with front row seats to see the guys at their happiest, performing truly something they’re all born to do.
You suddenly remember Taehyung’s funny dance moves from earlier, Yoongi's flirting with the crowd, and Hoseok laughing so hard he fell. You chortled, earning you an amused look from Jungkook whom you thought had fallen asleep.
You tell him this and he indulges you. You spend the remainder of the ride laughing, not just from tonight but also from the guys’ earlier days. It’s refreshing, you think, how unmistakably human they are, and how they’re not ashamed to share these parts of themselves with the world.
Jungkook figures this will help both of you sober up, so he gets out of the car as you do and continues talking. You look at him. “Come in?”
He nods, gets his keys from the driver, and walks with you to your apartment.
You’re a little wobbly, your beer and soju combo clearly not yet out of your system. You’re being cocky though, refusing to hold onto the stairs’ railing, insisting you’re fine. He stands behind you, arms ghosting your waist in case you fall. Which you do. You both explode in laughter.
But he’s ready for this, has a self-awarded badge for taking care of you when you’re a little out of it. He lifts your right arm over his shoulder, his left holding onto your waist. He opens the door and you trip of course, no surprise there.
You almost bring him down with you, but his strong arms hold you up. You cling onto him, hands now resting on his shoulders.
“Your eyes are pretty,” you say dreamily.
He chuckles. Here you go again, complimenting his looks only when you’re drunk. “I’ve heard that before.”
“So are your lips.”
His eyes go wide.
“But they look so chapped and dry, though,” you say disappointingly. “You should put on lip masks every night.”
“I’ll make sure to buy one tomorrow, then,” he replies, an amused look on his face. He’s definitely gonna give you shit for this tomorrow.
“But they’re so nicely-shaped. Fits your face well,” you hum, staring at his lips so shamelessly.
“Well thank you,” he giggles, trying to steady his voice.
“Can I kiss them?”
You don’t see how hard he swallows. You’re very pretty, he can’t deny that, he just never tells you. He’d had drunk girls make similar proposals to him; he just never agrees.
But you’re looking at him so softly, so curiously, no ulterior motive hiding behind those almond brown eyes. You look so sweet. He doesn’t know if you’ll remember this in the morning. He doesn’t know if he wants you to or not. But he gives in.
“Okay,” is all he says, a shy smile decorating his face. You don’t think you’ve ever studied his face like this before. You note the ridges of the scar on his cheek and the cute little dot underneath his mouth. You’re not as inebriated as he thinks; you’re more clumsy tonight than you are drunk.
You smile and lean into him, puckering your lips just a tiny bit. The kiss is quick, delicate; you’re both unsure but willing.
He tastes of cherry chapstick and beer. They’re not as parched as you expected, they’re actually quite soft. You smile at how he didn’t even try to disprove you like he always does.
Both your eyes remain open, enjoying the calm and relaxed look of the other.
“It’s nice,” you mumble to him after you’ve both pulled away.
He smiles at this. Maybe he does want you to remember this in the morning. “Thank you.”
“Not kidding about that lip mask though,” you tease.
He laughs at this, but he’ll take it.
You proceed to your nightly routine. A cup of tea later and he’s walking you to your room.
“Do you want me to stay?” He asks. He reasons you might still be drunk, not wanting to admit he’s enjoying this more than he should.
“If you can.”
“I can,” he assures you.
You both pass out that night, the kiss but a distraction to how tired you both really are, especially him. You wake up to the sound of rain the next morning, the sun just barely shining through your blinds.
You look at the man sleeping next to you and how gentle he looks, a complete opposite of the one rolling his hips and revealing his abs from last night. A small laugh escapes you, causing him to wake up.
“Sorry, you look like a baby when you sleep,” you reason.
“And you look like a troll,” he groggily responds.
“Ooh, harsh” you tease.
In the silence, you look at each other. It’s amazing how in sync you think, as you both scoot closer, a light peck on the lips to complement the chilly weather, the words I’ll miss you getting caught on your throat.
You laugh and drift to sleep again. When you wake up, he’s gone.
##
part 2 <<>> part 3
series masterlist
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts fic#bts jungkook#idol jungkook
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Playground - JJ Maybank
Request: Hey babe ♥️ can I request 71. “Look I know we don’t know each other that well but I’m still worried about you.” and 123. “If I asked you to stay, would you?” With jj? Just some pure fluff and hear eyes
A/N: I’m sorry this took so long to finish!! I actually wrote it twice so I might post the “alternate version” as well lol
Outer Banks Masterlist
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
For the longest time your yard had backed up to woods so dense that you couldn’t see the water line passed them. The path to the jetty cut through them and it made night trips in the boat your family owned a little eerier than they should’ve been. It wasn’t until high school that your dad donated the land to the island, giving Figure Eight a beautiful little park, complete with a playground, that it wasn’t really in dire need of.
Now there were no scary trees at night, just creaky swings and a merry-go-round that screeched when it spun. The equipment had felt outdated when it was put in but your father claimed that he wanted that nostalgia feel of the sort of playground he used to play on with his friends. And why shouldn’t he, it was his money.
Three weeks into the existence of the playground someone tapped razors to the slide and the whole thing had to be fenced in, your dad blaming the incident on ‘teenagers’ and more specifically ‘those kids from the cut’. He was convinced that some pogue from the cut had come up in the middle of the night and vandalized the park because they were just that bored or just that jealous of Figure Eight.
“They want a nice park; they should pay for one themselves.” He had grumbled as he watched the fence installation.
When you pointed out that they’re park had been destroyed in the hurricane, and that the board had yet to finalize a date to even address clean up on that side of the island, no one was privately wealthy enough to pay for the repair, he told you that you were being too liberal.
You didn’t think too much more about it. The only time you thought about the park was when you had to walk past it to get to the jetty. Otherwise, it was just for kids and you spent most of your time anywhere else on the island. But the chains on the swing still creaked and when you heard them that night, closing in on midnight and far too late for anyone to really be there, you went to your open window and looked out.
In any logical scenario you always hoped you were the levelheaded, immediately call the cops friend who didn’t take any risks. But it turned out that nigh that you were the ‘investigate first, ask questions later’ type. You grabbed your phone and walked out to the small park, standing on the other side of the fence and shining a light through the rungs at the kid on the swings.
“What the fuck, turn that off.” He cursed, holding his hand up to block his eyes from the light. It did little to shield the rest of his face and when you got a good look at the bruising eye and bloody lip you were immediately concerned. Some stranger was bleeding on your dad’s swingset and he looked about the same age as you.
“Are you okay?” You asked, shifting your phone so the light was hitting a beat up pair of boots on his feet and not his face. Would it be weird if you invited him in. Your mom kept a surprisingly well stocked medicine cabinet, ready for any scenario in the entire world, including but not limited to, you bringing in a stray person.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” You commented. When he said nothing in reply you offered your name, hoping that the introduction might help ease some tension. Or at least get him to consider admitting that he wasn’t doing so great for a Tuesday night.
“I said I’m fine.” He repeated, not offering a name in return. You noticed when your flashlight shifted again, that he was holding his side, leaning against the chain of the swing.
“Did you climb over the fence?” You chanced asking, looking up. The fence was arguably seven feet and, though you were not a great climber, you liked to think there was still some part of you that could’ve climbed a chain-link fence if you wanted to. But not this one.
“The gate was unlocked.” He replied, nodding his head to the gate that was, in fact, open.
“Oh.”
“I thought this was a public park.”
“I mean, kinda.” You admitted. Public in the sense that anyone on the Eight could use it whenever they wanted but not in the sense that anyone could use it whenever they wanted. And this kid was not from the Eight. “Are you sure you’re okay? I have some first aid stuff inside my house. I’m just right there.” You turned, waving your light toward the house directly in front of the park.
“I’m fine.” He said and you joined at the end of the two word sentence.
“Yeah, of course. Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you.”
“Why?” He asked.
“Because you seem upset.” You said. Sure, he was hurt physically and that definitely wasn’t great, but more so he just looked so sad, even in the dark when you were concentrating the light on his boots. He looked upset and tired and sad.
“Do you have any tylenol?” He asked.
You smiled, it was a break through, probably not one you should’ve been celebrating too much because he was still a stranger and this could have all been some bizarre and elaborate rouse based solely on the coincidence that you were gullible enough to walk outside and see who was in the playground. Or even that you were still awake.
“What’s with the gate anyway?” He asked, standing and walking toward you, there was a slight catch in his step, as if walking was hurting him.
“A couple kooks put razors on the playground. My dad put the fence up for protection...he’s convinced it’s pogues.”
“How do you know it’s not?” He asked, falling in step beside you as you walked him to your home as if the two of you were lifelong friends. You led him in the laundry entrance, letting him sit in the comfy chair that was in the mud room.
“Because, I know which kooks did it.” You shrugged. “What’s your name?”
“JJ.”
“Well, JJ, are you sure you’re okay?” You asked, handing over the Tylenol and a glass of water, “I have like...bandages and stuff.” In the light you could see him better, you could see the deep bruising on his right eye and cheek. The cut on his bottom lip that had opened while he was talking, red stained on his chin. You handed off a wet washcloth.
“I’m fine,” he said it again but this time the resolve seemed to have dwindled. He sunk down in the chair, holding the washcloth to his mouth.
You frowned, however fine he kept saying he was you were positive it was a lie. You weren’t sure how he’d gotten the injuries; you knew there had been some kook on pogue violence lately and you figured that maybe it was from that. “If I asked you to stay, would you?”
“Why?” He asked, looking genuinely surprised by your question.
“I’m worried about you,” you shrugged, “looks like you could use some company?”
“I’m not the kind of company you’re looking for.”
“This isn’t some After movie...I’m just saying I’ve got some popcorn and some weed and a never-ending list of movies to watch on Netflix.” You said, grabbing a water bottle for yourself out of the fridge in the mudroom.
“Yeah alright,” JJ agreed, “have you ever seen Killer Klowns from Outer Space?”
“I asked you to hang out and watch a movie with me and your first suggestion is Killer Klowns?” You asked, trying not to laugh as you led him into the basement.
“You said it was chill.”
“Yes I did.” You replied, caving to his movie option.
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Brothers react to MC who has been running on little to no sleep and coffee for days but keeps saying they’re fine and not about to collapse
Decided to put these together since their prompts are pretty similar.
Also, Belphie's section kinda took it's own turn 😅 it's not bad, simply went heavier on the nightmare aspect of the one ask and doesn't really have much in the way of the caffeine or sleeplessness, but I hope you like it nonetheless~
~
Lucifer:
Not the habit of his that he wished them to mimick, if he's honest.
Is very worried about their health, both physical and emotional.
Confiscates the rest of their energy drinks and refuses to let them attend RAD the next few days so they can stay home and sleep.
Any arguements on the matter fall on deaf ears
And if they try the pull the "You do it too!" card since he often uses caffeine to get him through sleepless nights of work, he will remind them that he is a demon and his body can take a lot more strain than theirs.
Stays home with them to make sure they sleep; after all, he has been tasked with keeping them healthy just as much as he has with their physical safety.
Catches them trying to work on homework in their room on the first day and all but carries them to his room.
Makes them sleep in his bed while he does paperwork at his desk.
Whenever he'd hear them whimper in their sleep, he'd wake them and help calm them.
Has to do this a lot over the course of the next few days and becomes even more concerned.
Eventually asks if something is bothering his Love that is fueling these nightmares
And if they'd rather not talk to him about it, he offers to help them get in touch with a therapist that they can talk to.
Ends up setting the human on a better track physically, but acknowledges that their emotional wellbeing is more difficult and more so depends on what they are willing to do for themselves than anything he can do for them.
Mammon:
Oh lord, they got this boy worried.
Not that he will straight up tell them, but still.
Gets Lucifer to let the two of them skip school for a few days to try fix them up (normally this would be a hard no from the oldest, but even he noticed how sleep deprived the human was and knew that it was necessary to fix their sleep schedule and have them rest).
Mammon was the only one that knew about his Human's nightmares though and honestly, he wasn't sure how to handle that part.
Step one! Put down the Monster, human!
Step two! He's dragging them to his bed and they are staying put till they fall asleep!
After that...the Avatar of Greed has no clue what to do.
The man lays down with them and relaxes them enough to fall asleep.
He stayed by them, just in case. He tried laying in bed with them, but eventually the man got uncomfortable so he switched to walking around the room or sitting on the couch. He avoided leaving the room or doing anything too loud though.
When he first noticed their cries from the bed, the man dropped his phone on the couch before rushing over.
He hovered over the bed for a minute. Should he wake them? Is it better to let them them sleep through it?
But as MC let out another whimper, the man knew he couldn't just do nothing.
"Oi! Babe!"
The human woke with a start and clung to their boyfriend before they were even aware of it.
Mammon sat on the bed and let his Human lean against him and cry. He didn't really know what to say so he just stroked their hair awkwardly as they cried.
"Was it the same dream?" He mumbled once they calmed down.
Silence. How was he suppose to help if they didn't wanna talk about it?
"I'm sorry..." MC whispered.
"Don't be sorry, babe; just talk to me 'ere."
MC tugged at him so the two of them could lay back down together.
"I don't wanna think about it..."
The second brother shut up at that, feeling like an ass for pushing them. Of course, MC didn't see it that way though; they knew he was just worried.
Mammon stayed in bed with them this time, not leaving their side even once after they fell back asleep.
After about a week of focusing on sleep, MC gets better physically, but the nightmares were still an issue.
It helped having Mammon close to them though so they were at least less frequent. The demon still has no clue what they keep dreaming about that scares them so much, but his Human feels safer with him there so that's something.
Leviathan:
MC tried really hard to hide their issue from him so he didn't worry
But of course, the third brother isn't blind and eventually noticed the extreme caffeine intake and lack of brain power
Leading him to ask questions and finally make his Henry admit they've been avoiding sleep for the last few days because of some really bad nightmares.
Immediately blames himself. The Avatar of Envy falls into a pit of self hatred, telling himself he should know this stuff and that MC kept this from his because they think he's weak and worthless and--
Yeah. MC has to spend time and what literally energy they have assuring him that none of that is true.
It was a Friday evening so no school to miss. Instead, Levi gets MC to go to sleep early
Which they agreed...as long as they could sleep with him.
Cue the blushing. The couple had yet to actually sleep in the same bed together yet or in the case of his room, the same bathtub.
Didn't really feel he could say no though with his Henry needing him so badly though.
MC could feel their boyfriend's heart pounding from nervousness as they curled up in the tub together; it didn't really calm down till the human fell asleep and Levi heard their soft breathing. It was actually pretty calming.
Not enough for him to fall asleep though. I mean, this boy usually stays up all night playing video games.
Ends up playing a game on his phone with the volume muted.
Eventually feels MC pressing up against him in their sleep and crying into his shoulder.
The boy freezes.
What was he suppose to do?! Does he wake them?? But they need sleep! But they're having a nightmare! Gaaah
The demon debated this for a few minutes before finally shaking them awake.
Even when they awoke, MC still cried against him.
Surprisingly enough though, the human was willing talk about their dream.
The nightmare they kept having...was about about him leaving them??
The envy demon's brain was stuck on buffering...what did he just hear?
The man didn't even feel like he deserved them, but some part of them was actually afraid he'd break up with them?
Dude couldn't even wrap his head around it, if he's honest.
"That'd never happen... I'm not dumb or anything, Normie..."
Though he doesn't like that they've worried about this so much that started having nightmares about it...their boyfriend is also kinda relieved because of them? Like, the bad dreams are proof that they actually love him just as much as he loves them, despite his self esteem (or lack of) always trying to tell him otherwise.
Satan:
Caught onto things pretty quickly and tried to simply ask them to go to sleep at a reasonable time that night
Just to discover the next day that they had lied to him and stayed up all night doing school work.
Annoyed, the blonde becomes a lot firmer with them. No more caffeine.
Once the human started to crash, Satan led to his room and had them sleep in his bed.
"I don't want to...dream it again."
"What is it that you keep dreaming, Kitten?" He asked, eyebrows raised
But they had already fallen alseep.
Concerned, the blonde stayed right next to them, sitting on the bed and reading a book while his other hand on top of theirs as they slept.
At some point during the night when Satan was ready to go to sleep as well, he felt the human's body suddenly tense up and their breathing became heavier.
He got up to put his book back on the shelf and MC almost instantly cried out in their sleep.
He dropped his book down on a randomly pile before sitting back down, calling out to his Kitten and shaking their shoulder.
The human woke up and found themselves clinging to his leg.
Satan stroked their hair.
"Shh. It's okay, Kitten; you're alright."
When the human calmed down, he discovered that they have been having the same dream the last few nights--or they believe it to be the same dream. They always forget it once they wake up, but it always makes their heart race and they just cry till feel empty inside, like they are not even inside their own body, but hovering outside of it.
He could feel it, how disconnected they had now become from themself, the world, even him. They were with him yet not.
The next few nights, he runs different magical tests on them to see if he can find the source of these strange nightmares that seemingly force themself out of their own body.
He will get answers. Satan cannot leave his sweet Kitten with this issue.
Asmodeus:
One of the few brothers that MC never tried to hide their problem from, though partially because they usually sleeps in his bedroom so Azzy was woken up by their thrashing and cries from the nightmare a few nights before they tried to use caffeine and sleeplessness to fix their problem.
Keyword here is tried; their boyfriend refused to let them do this to themselves. He knew better than most how important sleep was for a person's health and beauty and wasn't about to let the human sabotage themselves.
Ends up lighting a calming incense and massaging their back and shoulders before launching into a talk session. What's the dream about? Has anything been making you stressed lately? Azzy needs to hear all of it.
Finds out that they've been dreaming about...well, their past with their family in the human world. Some bad memories that get twisted into something even worse in the dreams.
"Doll..." Asmo, still sitting behind them from the massage, wraps his arms around their waist and kisses their neck then cheek.
Has mega long vent session about their family in the human world. Asmo lost some precious beauty sleep, but it was worth it because when the two finally went to sleep, MC didn't have a single nightmare that night nor the next few nights after.
As long as the human vented every once in a while instead of bottling it up, his Dolly was able to sleep with no issues.
Beelzebub:
Another one MC shared a bed with and knew about their nightmares.
In all honesty, I just can't imagine MC trying to hide anything from him and make it far enough to even have the caffeine and sleepless night issue.
Beely is simply too caring and observant. He's also someone I'd personally have trouble lying to since he's so sweet and I think many others would feel the same.
Instead, the big guy would comfort them each night, waking them from their nightmare and hold them close for a while before asking if they want some water or snack.
He'd listen to his Muffin talk about their the nightmare if they comfortable with it and promise them that regardless of what the dream was about that they're safe with him.
Would probably go to Satan and ask what he knows about the topic and if there's anything he can do to help stop MC's nightmares.
The poor guys just never wants his Muffin to feel scared or unsafe, even in their sleep 😔
Belphegor:
Another brother they never lied to about it, but honestly, only because MC was never given the chance to.
I mean really, how do you hide sleep and dream issues from the freaking Avatar of Sloth?
The very first night they had the nightmare, Belphie was woken up by some of their thrashing and cries.
Instead of waking them up however, the demon used his powers to slip into their dream to see what was causing them to break down so hard in their sleep
And didn't like the answer he found.
When he peaked into their dream...he discovered that it was about that night. About the Incident™️.
He watched another version of himself with his hand wrapped his Human's throat, killing them all over again.
Honestly, the sloth demon isn't when he did it, but found his real self materialized in the dream and on top of his dream version, beating down on the fake him and eventually choking him till the fake simply disappeared in a puff of smoke.
MC was on the ground, regaining their breath as they watched the two Belphies fight. When the fight was over and the remaining Belphie was alone on the floor, crying angry and frustrated tears, the human got up and rushed over to him.
Belphie pushed them away, avoiding their hug.
"Dummy. You shouldn't try to comfort me. I haven't even told you this is a dream yet..."
MC had no way of knowing what was happening then was a dream so from their point of view in this small memory turned dream, Belphie was nothing more than a copy of the man who tried to kill them, but they still felt the need to comfort him...
Devil, he didn't understand them. Not in this moment in the dream or in the waking world. This human... after everything, how can they care about him? How can they love him?
"Dream?"
And with that, Belphie made them wake up and the two were back in the real attic, curled up in bed.
The man sat up and scooted over to the edge of the bed, feet on the floor and head in his hands.
It took the human a few moments to adjust to what just happened, but eventually they wiped a few tears away and scooted behind him, hugging their boyfriend from behind.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't. You didn't do anything wrong, Butthead..."
Man, what's wrong with them? Belphie just didn't understand them. His brain was stuck on a loop with that thought.
"Belphie, I know you're different. You're not the same now as you were that night."
"Yeah, but I still did it," He raised his head and turned around to face him. "And don't pretend that it doesn't matter anymore because you wouldn't being having a nightmare about it if it didn't matter."
Their boyfriend had a point. The Incident™️...it was a traumatic experience for them. I mean, they died. Yet because MC forgives him and has fallen for him, they try to so hard to downplay it so they won't hurt him, but in truth, all it does is drive the seventh brother crazy.
"...You're right. It does matter." MC said softly. "But not as much as you matter to me."
MC took his hand and squeezed it.
"I love you... I don't want you hurt over this anymore."
"What, like it's okay that you hurt over?" Belphie took his hand back and stared intensely at them. "Promise me. Promise you won't keep downplaying this and you'll let me...shit, I don't know. Do anything you need."
"I..." MC lowered their head. "Okay."
Belphie pulled his Human into a hug.
"I love you, Butthead." He mumbled. "Don't ever try putting me before your own feelings or even your mental health. I'm not worth that..."
#obey me#obey me otome#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me mc
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world state: refresh, chapter 1
Summary: Something goes wrong with the plant body contingency plan, and Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua both end up perishing. However, it appears that the System isn’t finished with them, yet. And with their new promotions, this life they find themselves in seems more like a well-deserved vacation. / Back in their previous world, the people who knew them are still in mourning. And some of them are not willing to let them go.
—
“Dude! I thought the plan was to not die!”
“I —!”
“All that work for nothing! And you didn’t just fuck up, you had to drag me down with you? I thought we were bros, man. I thought we were cool!”
Shen Yuan shrinks back, watching him with wide eyes. “Why are you yelling at me?”
“Am I yelling?” Shang Qinghua crosses his arms and turns away. “I am just so sick of dying, bro! I thought we had a contingency, so I wasn’t worried, but now! What the fuck was that?”
“I couldn’t just,” Shen Yuan reaches up and pulls at his hair in aggravation. “I couldn’t just let that happen to Binghe!”
It’s kind of weird seeing him with such a slight build and shorter hair and big eyes a bright blue, when Shang Qinghua has long since become used to the broader shoulders and taller build and long, pin-straight hair of Shen Qingqiu. Shen Yuan’s got some curl to his hair. His eyelashes go on for days.
This must be how his bro looked like back in the real world. Or, their first world. After all this, there’s no way in hell that Shang Qinghua can call the world they’d just left fake or pretend.
He wishes he could.
Shang Qinghua makes a face and squints at his friend. Should he even call him that? After all, he… “You literally committed suicide. And you took me with you. Without asking! Bro, we’re both dead!”
“It’s not my fault that the plant bodies didn’t work!” Shen Yuan wails, and Shang Qinghua jerks back, stunned. Well, it seems that the cool and collected poker face of Shen Qingqiu had been left behind with the body itself. “You told me it was ready! And I didn’t ask you to stand so close to me when I detonated!”
“How was I suppose to know that’s what you were going to do?!” Shang Qinghua shrieks. He points an accusing finger at the other man. “We had a plan, you jerk! I kinda expected that we’d, oh I don’t know, go by it? Just a little bit? Play our parts? You changed the script on me without even giving me a cue!”
“Stop talking about it like it’s a stupid movie!” Shen Yuan says, and oh man his eyes are round and tearful. That’s not fair. “Binghe was going nuclear on us, Airplane! What was I suppose to do, let him destroy the world? Because you and I both know that’s what was about to happen!”
Shang Qinghua flinches back. He ducks his head and hunches his shoulder, looking away with a glare.
Shen Yuan sighs. He clears his throat, and says, “... I’m sorry I took you with me. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I tried to wait until you were out of range, but….”
Shang Qinghua sniffs.
“The only person capable of surviving a blast like that would be the protagonist.” He sullenly admits.
The both of them are silent at that. Shang Qinghua glares down at the vast expanse of blackness that surrounds them, leaving nothing to be seen but each other, somehow untouched by the dark. It almost seems like it might be a dream, but Shang Qinghua already knows what death feels like, and that had been it.
Can he even call himself Shang Qinghua anymore, if he’d left the body of that identity behind?
“I hope it was enough to fix Xin Mo’s influence on him,” Shen Yuan murmurs worriedly. “We’re not around anymore to mitigate the damage or direct the plot. What’s going to happen now? What if our absence means that the canon plot takes over again? Was it all for nothing?”
Shang Qinghua — Airplane drops his shoulders, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. He feels way too old for this. Why can’t death be the final rest it was suppose to be? Why does this keep happening?
“Where even are we?” He asks.
There’s a familiar ding that echoes endlessly in the void around them. Airplane shares a glance with Shen Yuan, both their expressions bearing the same look of dread and exasperation.
“Why?” Shen Yuan bemoans.
“We’re not done?” Shang Qinghua demands, feeling suddenly furious as a window, slightly too light against the inky blackness, pops up before them. “Are you kidding me?”
He turns away from the blinding brightness and covers his face, muttering furiously under his hitching breath. It’s not fair! What are they, slaves to the System? Airplane is so tired.
“What,” he hears Shen Yuan breathe out beside him.
There’s a tug on his sleeve — they’re both wearing the same robes they died in, resized to fit their new (or rather, their old) bodies but just as dirty — and he turns to glance at his friend, only to find Shen Yuan gaping at the System window in astonishment.
“Airplane,” his friend insists, eyes wide. “Airplane, read it.”
With a put upon sigh, Airplane turns back toward the window and squints at it.
Congratulations, Host 74 and Host 81! Due to your exemplary efforts to rewrite the plot of World-0690, both of you have been promoted!
“What,” Airplane gapes. “A promotion? What the fuck does that mean?”
“Keep reading,” Shen Yuan urges him, eyes still round in shock.
In compensation for your hard work and the troubles faced in World-0690, Hosts have been given the choice of their next assignments!
“I don’t want to,” Airplane whimpers. He turns away from the half-read window and throws himself at his friend.
Shen Yuan lets out a sound of surprise as he catches him, and a hand automatically goes up to pet at Airplane’s head as he buries his face into Shen Yuan’s neck.
“I — Airplane? What’s — ?”
“I don’t want to do it again,” he says, eyes stinging. Fuck, he’s crying. He squeezes his eyes shut and clings to his friend. “I don’t want to. I’m done. I don’t want to anymore. Shen Yuan, I don’t want to!”
“Shit,” his friend mutters. The hand in his hair is comforting, stroking back and forth in a heavy pet.
Airplane sucks in a deep breath, which is a mistake, because it immediately bursts back out of him in a jarring sob.
He’s just so, so done. He doesn’t want to! He isn’t sure what he does want, just that he doesn’t want this! Please, please don’t make him! Not again! Airplane is done!
Shen Yuan speaks again, louder this time. “Airplane, listen. It’ll be different this time, okay? It’s giving us a choice!”
“I don’t want to,” Airplane cries.
“Um… How about I read us the, uh… the options. Okay?”
He sniffles. It’s not like there’s a decline button, he checked before he even started reading the damn window. This isn’t fair. This is so goddamn unfair.
Shakily, he nods his head against Shen Yuan chest. “... Okay.”
“Alright. So, um… option one is to be reborn with a system in a new world that requires a rewrite. It’ll be like how we ended up in PIDW, but we’ll have to read the plot beforehand so we know what we’re going into.”
“No,” Airplane jerks back, glaring up at his friend fiercely from beneath his damp lashes. “I will not be born again. I’m not growing up for another time. My childhoods in both worlds were shitty, I’m not letting myself be a child again, Shen Yuan!”
Shen Yuan gives him a weak smile. “Third time’s the charm?”
Airplane just continues to glare at him. The other man drops the smile and sighs.
“Yeah, okay, it’s a definite no to option one. I don’t wanna go through infancy or, hell, puberty again, either. So, option two…”
Airplane is quiet as his friend gazes up at the window and rereads their options. He refuses to turn around and look at it. He doesn’t want to see it. He’s so sick of the fucking System.
[Host….]
Fuck.
Shut up.
[This system apologizes—]
Shut up, shut up, shut up! Aren’t we done with you? Haven’t I finished what you wanted? Our mission is over, right? I don’t want to talk to you! Leave me alone!
[....]
“Okay, option two,” Shen Yuan says, eyes fixed on the window. Airplane lets his forehead drop to rest against his friend’s shoulder. “We can transmigrate into already written lives, fully grown bodies. Our task in that case would be to help stop the end of the world.”
“Fuck that,” Airplane and Shen Yuan both scoff at the same time.
Airplane draws back from his friend’s embrace to share a grin with him.
“I’m sick of responsibilities. How many options are there?”
Shen Yuan glances back up to scan the window. “There’s a few pages worth… Hey, System?”
There’s a ding. Airplane directs his gaze determinedly on his friend’s face and doesn’t look behind him.
“Can you filter the options?” Another ding. “Okay, filter out all options that require us to play a prewritten character or save a world.”
Ding! Airplane watches avidly as Shen Yuan’s expression smooths out into something pleased. The other man glances back down at him, and then blinks when he realizes that Airplane has been staring at him the entire time. He coughs, and pink flushes over his cheeks.
Airplane feels a smirk crawl onto his face. “Aw, bro. You know, you’re pretty cute like this. Is this how you looked like back — uh, in our first lives?”
Shen Yuan’s blush deepens. “I — uh… yeah, I think so? I don’t have a mirror, so I can’t be one-hundred percent sure…”
Then, the other man smirks back at him, a teasing light entering his bright eyes. “You’re not too shabby yourself, bro. Actually, you’re freaking adorable. If I knew this was what Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky looked like, I’d have never even tried taking your papapa scenes seriously.”
“You never took them seriously anyway,” Airplane scoffs, fighting off his own blush. He stares into the inky blackness of the void instead. “Besides, no one should have taken them seriously.”
“Eh? Why?”
The smirk crawls back over Airplane’s face, and he glances up at Shen Yuan from beneath his eyelashes. “I’m ace.”
Shen Yuan pauses. He stares down at him, speechless for a few long moments. Airplane lifts one hand to hide how his smirk has transformed into a grin. His shoulders shake with amusement.
Finally, Shen Yuan’s face breaks into incredulousness.
“You —? Are you serious?” The man wheezes. He reaches out and slaps a hand against Airplane’s shoulder, and then does it a few more times. “Are you fucking serious? A joke! The entire thing was a joke this whole time? Airplane, I’m gonna fucking kill you, oh my god!”
Despite his words, the slaps are gentle. Shen Yuan still has one arm wrapped around him in a hug.
Airplane bursts into laughter.
“I mean,” he giggles. “The story itself wasn’t a joke? But the reader count skyrocketed after the first smut scene, and the subscriptions mirrored that. I was just a starving college student, bro. I hadn’t eaten in three days, I needed some cash.”
Shen Yuan’s hits cease, and a serious expression overcomes his outrage.
“Was it really that bad?” He quietly asks.
Airplane bites his lip and looks away. “It’s been worse than that, but… Yeah. It’s what helped me make the decision to lead PIDW into the stallion novel genre. I kept the actual story to myself and just focused on writing what the subscribers demanded. It was a huge blow to my integrity as an author, and there were a lot of times that I hated myself for it, but I was too hungry to care most of the time.”
“Shit,” Shen Yuan presses a hand over his mouth. Airplane looks away entirely before he can see the pity that’s likely to be in his friend’s expression. “That’s shitty, man. I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” he shrugs. “After being born into it, though, there’s a lot of times I wish I’d just gone with my original draft. Starving would have been better than… a lot of what happened, back there as Shang Qinghua.”
Shen Yuan’s arm tightens around him. His hand finds its way back into Airplane’s hair.
“Hey,” he says, quietly. “What’s your name?”
Airplane snorts. “Shang Lei.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He buries his face into Shen Yuan’s chest and laughs. “No, that’s my name.”
“Oh my god, are you serious?”
He smacks Shen Yuan in the arm, grinning. “Yes, I’m serious.”
“You hack writer. You’re so original, I’m in awe.”
Airplane rolls his eyes and snuggles into his friend’s hug. “I’d offer to let you read the original PIDW, but I don’t have it with me, and I think it would hit differently now that we both uh, actually know most of the characters personally.”
Shen Yuan makes a face. “Man. I’d totally read it, too, if it wasn’t for that. And besides, the way you wrote Binghe... that’s not him. Not anymore.”
“Yeah. You raised him differently.”
There’s a quiet sound, like sniffling. “I … I don’t think I did such a good job,” Shen Yuan whispers, and his voice is thick.
Airplane closes his eyes.
“Anyway.” He says. “Our options?”
“... Right.” Shen Yuan coughs. He straightens up. His arm tightens around Airplane like one might clutch at a teddy bear. Airplane accepts it. “Um…. The filters have narrowed down the list quite a bit. How do you feel about being reborn as forest hermits in a farming simulation become reality?”
“Um. Pass. I’m not much for manual labor.”
Shen Yuan laughs. Airplane can feel the way his body trembles with it against him. He smiles and rests his head into the crook of his friend’s neck.
“Yeah, neither am I. Uh, there’s…. Demon Lords — nah, that’s R18. We know how that goes, and since you’re ace, no thanks. Um, there’s actually a lot of otome-type worlds. Weird. System, filter out those ones.”
Airplane yawns. He’s still feeling upset over all of this, but he’s come to a decision.
Whatever new world they end up in — and goddammit, it’ll be together — he’s not going to allow Shen Yuan convince him to let himself become attached to the characters this time. He’d done so well, in the first half of his life as Shang Qinghua, keeping himself distanced from his peers and enemies alike. Life went by quick and mostly painlessly, when you didn’t connect with anyone. The real pain came after Shen Yuan talked him into seeing the people of that world as actual people.
It was lonely before then, sure. He’s not sure the hurt that came after was worth it, though. Plus, this time he’ll have his bro at his side. That’s all he’ll need.
“Oh, hello.”
He pulls back from his friend’s comfy embrace to look up at him. “Find a good one?”
“I think so,” Shen Yuan tells him. He’s smiling up at the window, and he’s got one eyebrow raised. “This one is ‘Become Game Masters of an ARMMRPG.’”
“Eh?” Airplane frowns. “... Doesn’t it mean, uh, a VRMMORPG? Like in anime?”
“No. This one is Alternate Reality Massive Multiplayer Role Playing Game. Instead of being a virtual world, in this… story, I guess? In this story, the player characters are actually people capable of dimensional travel. Each ‘game’ is a different dimension, and the people can only die in their home dimension. From the description, it’s basically the same as the synopsis of your run of the mill VRMMORPG anime, except the virtual games are real worlds.”
“Sure, but if they’re real worlds, then what does being a Game Master mean?”
Shen Yuan grins down at him.
“Hey, Airplane,” he says. “How do you feel about being an actual god?”
—
Luo Binghe curls up on his throne like a child might sit in their mother’s lap, but there is no warmth to be found for him in this position. He clutches his knees to his chest and fights off another bout of these ceaseless tears. What’s a throne worth, what’s the seat of an emperor worth, what is all the power that he’s spent years accumulating worth, if Luo Binghe himself is actually useless regarding what truly matters?
He’s the king of an entire realm, territories a-plenty in the human one as well, but none of it matters anymore.
Nothing can matter, not now.
He launches himself off the throne, startling the line of servants that kneel on the gilded floor. He ignores their jolts and their gasps of surprise, turning on his heel to leave the room entirely. It’s only a few doors deep into the private wing behind his throne, a room in the center of his palace that is more secure than any place else in all the world.
He throws open the door, and catches it before it can slam shut. He closes it with barely a whisper.
It feels wrong, making too much noise in this room. Being too loud.
Shizun never liked it to be too noisy.
Luo Binghe’s eyes sting as he approaches the shrouded and still form that lies on the dias in the center of the room. He kneels before it, and then lowers himself further to press his forehead against the cold stone floor.
“Shizun,” he whimpers. “This lowly disciple is so sorry. This scum will repent for as long as it takes. Binghe will kneel for eternity if that is what it takes. But please, please. Come back.”
His voice cracks on the last word. It echoes quietly in the room, bouncing off the walls and reaching back to him until all the Luo Binghe is able to hear are the reverberations of his own useless please.
Just like every time before, the form he kowtows to is silent and unmoving. Cold. Dead.
Luo Binghe has made the worst mistakes, and there is no way to fix them.
[Read ch. 2]
#scum villain's self saving system#world state: refresh#cucumberplane#shen yuan#shang qinghua#vodkassassin fanfiction
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Oksy so don’t feel like you have to do this but nesta and the kids go out grocery shopping and they bump into THOMAS FUCKING MANDARY and Nesta gets super overwhelmed but she’s got the kids and shit so she pretends she’s fine
But later cass comes home and the kids tell him what happens.
(and maybe they have a talk on important stuff about being with someone who loves you and if someone hurts you they don’t love you and it’s beautiful Idk)
Loving And Caring
Nessian modern au set in the The Seven Of Us universe (masterlist)
acotar next gen fan fiction
A/N: This is the reason I’m gonna fail my English exam, so please enjoy:)
The children’s ages: Ezra is 11, Cal is 6, Nora is 3 and Celia is 2. Andra is kinda not born yet.
DON’T COME FOR ME FOR BEING SLOW AS FUCK OR FOR WRITING SUCH ANGSTY PROMPTS. I HAVE 70+ IN MY ASKS BOX AND THEY’RE ALL SO ANSGTY
Word count: 8,185
"I want it!"
"I don't-"
"No, I want this!"
"I said I wanted it first."
"You did not!"
"Mom!"
Nesta Archeron had been called many things in her life. Daughter first. Then sister and friend, woman. She had been appreciated by all the professors she had had the honor of meeting during her studies, who had called her the best in her classes. She had finally found someone who had sincerely called her love and then wife, and she would not give up that last acquired, very important title of mom for anything in the world, but-
Right then she just wanted to strap her kids to the cart and run.
Walking down the cereal aisle, she ran a hand over her swollen, ready-to-burst belly, realizing that she would have to trip and fall on her bump if she wanted to end the problem for good. The baby girl, for whom they still hadn't chosen a name, would be born in a few weeks, and if she didn't get rid of her, too, she would never find peace.
She giggled - or at least she thought she did - at those morbid, disturbing thoughts for which many people would surely have her locked up in a mental hospital, if they found out how often she admitted to wanting to abandon her children.
It had been such a tiring day. She had been home from work for a couple of months now, this fifth pregnancy was breaking her down physically and mentally. She was at the end, in her eighth month, but she would much rather have the last baby out and inside the cart with her sisters by now.
Celia and Nora were babbling something in their imperfect language, and Nesta's heart clenched for her little men at the thought that they would be outnumbered in a few weeks. She and Cassian had experienced that feeling only three years before, and yet she still hadn't forgotten the terror she had felt at the idea of her children turning against them.
They had created a small army.
Casting a quick glance at Ezra who was sneaking something into the cart, she huffed. If the others noticed that he had put a package of junk food in the basket, that would be the end of it.
Moments later, in fact, Cal was looking at the colored bag in the still empty cart with suspicious eyes, and Nesta wasn't going to wait for the fight over who could buy the most junk food that day to begin.
"Ezra, put the snacks back," she said rubbing her hands over her eyes.
Celia mumbled something as she sat inside the cart, and Nora, silently settled next to her, nodded, as if she understood what the other was talking about. It shouldn't have shocked her, but Nesta never ceased to be amazed by that way of communicating that only the two of them understood.
Ezra's icy eyes turned sad when he looked at her and he pouted, "But mom I need them for snacks for school."
Cal looked at him with a furrowed brow, "No you don't. I need them." then he turned to Nesta, "But I don't like these, can I have those?" he asked with a bright smile pointing across the aisle with a wave of his arm.
She leaned forward, sighing and not answering him. Nora looked up at her and reached out her hands toward her mom, letting her know she wanted to be held, but Nesta was aching.
Cal and Ezra hadn't stopped bickering for half a second, and Celia had cried all day because she wanted her dada. Nora had stayed in Nesta's arms the entire walk to the grocery store, and one way or another she knew she would have to carry her all the way back home as well, despite the unbearable back pain. It was less than two kilometers, but with a pregnancy running out and only one hand to restrain any possible child who threatened to throw themselves under the cars whizzing by, it became more mental work than physical.
When Nesta smiled lovingly at her, trying to make her understand that she couldn't hold her right then, Cal burst into tears.
Her daughters' little heads snapped up at their brother, and Nesta cursed herself for deciding to do something as stupid as taking her four young children to the grocery store on an evening when they were all visibly on edge and stressed.
"Dear, what happened?" she asked without even an ounce of concern in her voice. She knew full well that it was just a tantrum. She got confirmation of that when Ezra replied in a whiny tone that they couldn't both buy snacks, or they wouldn't know how to carry them home. At that point Cal's cry became a proper scream and Nesta had to close her eyes to avoid the judgmental stares of the people passing by.
She brought her hands to her temples, massaging her forehead in circular motions, and when she thought she could handle it without throwing up on each of her children, she leaned against the cart, circling around Ezra and crouching with no small amount of difficulty in front of Cal. One hand on her back and the other still clinging to the cart, she grunted as she put one knee on the ground. She felt Nora's little hand rest on hers as she began to speak, "Listen kiddo, we're all very tired and now your brother is going to put his snacks down too," she explained, giving Ezra an inquisitive look over her shoulder. The eldest son rolled his eyes, but he had Celia hand him the package and snortingly put it back. Cal sobbed, sniffling, and Nesta laid a hand on his shoulder, massaging his arm. "How about we read a book together tonight before bed?"
The boy's face scrunched up in a grimace of sadness, "But I want snacks." he sobbed louder. Nesta bit her lip, knowing full well that the fat tears on his cheeks weren't really for the snacks and that she couldn't give in and let them all buy something or she'd end up with two bags full of junk food to carry.
Cal hadn't slept that afternoon, as had everyone else, because of Celia's endless crying, and she hadn't wanted to take her afternoon nap until it was too late and Nora and Cal had gotten out of bed to go play in their rooms. At that point Nesta had been forced to let Celia go, but she knew that had meant agreeing to spend an evening with frustrated and not-rested children.
She was about to respond when a couple of older ladies walked by them, casting an annoyed look at Cal. Nesta would have liked to respond with an ugly hand gesture, but she couldn't do it in front of her children.
In that moment of distraction she hadn't realized that Celia had also started calling her and now, casting a quick glance at her daughter, she felt a very bad feeling sink into her stomach at the sight of the little girl's tear-filled eyes.
She looked at Ezra, taking a deep breath, and noticed that even the oldest of her children seemed bothered by the course of action Nesta had taken. She felt tremendous guilt at seeing that the only one of her children who didn't seem disappointed or angry with her was Nora.
It all got worse when one of the two ladies who had just passed her said loud enough so she could hear her, "I don't understand why some people don't stop with their first child. It's obvious she can't even handle one, listen to her screaming."
Nesta felt the emotion grow in her throat.
"When someone isn't born to be a parent, it shows immediately. She's one of those awful mothers who doesn't know how to take care of her children." the other added.
Nesta caught her breath, fixing her gaze in Cal's. Celia was crying by now, spluttering to be picked up as she tried to keep her balance inside the cart.
She wasn't going to answer. She wasn't going to answer.
"Let's go home." she whispered suddenly, laying a hand on the small of her back and pulling herself up with a tremendous effort, a twinge of pain went through her legs and back, "Cal, dear, we'll buy the snacks another time, for now we'll just take the bread and milk, tomorrow come back with daddy and take whatever you want, okay?" she spoke quickly, in a high, steady voice so that all four of them could hear her. She just hoped they didn't hear how desperately she was trying not to burst into tears over what the ladies had just said.
Cal nodded, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt and immediately stopping crying. Ezra looked thoughtful, but he too had stopped pouting. The only one who still looked upset was Celia, who followed her by walking inside the cart, moving where she stood.
Seeing the little girl's red face and dripping nose, arms outstretched toward her, Nesta heard only the words "awful mother" repeated in her mind.
With a knot in her throat and a cry that she was sure would break free as soon as she stepped into the house, Nesta pushed forward, bumping the cart with her belly as she picked up Celia and placed her on her side. The little girl immediately stopped crying, resting her head on her mother's shoulder and cupping her tiny hand over her shirt.
Now, beyond the emotional wound that had just been inflicted on her, Nesta could feel the pain in her back growing with every step she took. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop a sob that threatened to break that composed attitude she had.
Everything hurt so bad.
Cal was running in front of them all, stomping his feet on the ground and making the little lights on his shoes glow. Ezra was walking beside her, one hand on the edge of the cart as he mouthed off to Nora, but he had to stop when Nesta froze in the middle of the aisle, taking an abrupt breath. She brought a hand to her belly, feeling the baby move and kick, only adding to the pain.
"Ezra, love," she breathed, stepping aside and holding Celia against her side, then asked between her teeth as the baby continued her assault inside her, "could you push the cart?"
He nodded, his face lighting up as if she had asked him to take control of a ship.
Celia began to squirm on her side and Nesta had the urge to drop her, not voluntarily, but it all hurt so much that her body was begging her to sit up, to take all that unnecessary weight off her arms.
At the idea that she would have to walk home she felt her eyes grow heavy with tears.
She put Celia back in the cart, breathing a sigh of relief as some of the pain eased in her lower back. Nora was now standing and smiling at Ezra, who was struggling to see where he was going past his sister.
Nesta looked up just as Cal hopped out of the aisle and fell to the ground, crashing into someone's cart. Or rather, as someone ran over him with their cart and slamming him to the ground.
She didn't even think about it as she started walking as fast as her body would allow towards her son, leaving the other three behind. By the time she reached him, Cal was standing there laughing in amusement and was running his hands over his pants to get the dust off his palms. Once she made sure he wasn't hurt, she was ready to yell at whoever had dropped her son, ready to take out all her frustration and doubts on the stranger, when she heard a voice that sent chills down her spine.
"Nesta Archeron?"
She moved her head so fast she was surprised she hadn't snapped her neck, but her brain didn't have time to process the pain the jolt had caused her, because there standing before her was Tomas Mandray.
She couldn't believe it.
Any thought of yelling at the stranger vanished like an echo in her mind.
How was it possible that he was there?
"Is it really you?" he asked her with wide eyes and an incredulous smile on his face. He circled the cart, shifting his gaze to Cal, and Nesta felt the overwhelming instinct to grab her son and hide him behind her. When Tomas reached out a hand toward him, ruffling his hair, she felt vomit rise in her throat. They had to get out of that place immediately. "I can't believe it." he voiced her thoughts, "Is this yours?" he asked looking into her eyes again.
This... he was talking about Cal.
She couldn't find the words and continued to stare at the man in front of her with wide eyes - scared eyes, if you knew Nesta, if you knew where to look. And Tomas knew it. Tomas had always known it.
She heard Ezra reach them, and then something slammed into her side. She didn't need to lower her head to catch a glimpse of Nora's little pigtails of black hair or hear Celia's amused giggle.
Tomas snorted a laugh out of his nose, crossing his arms over his chest, "Are they all yours?" then moved his gaze to her belly to bring it back up to her breasts and Nesta wanted to say something to him, to insult him, to hit him, to take him away from her children, but she felt her heart pounding in her throat and the air couldn't reach her lungs.
That tone-
That tone wasn't of someone who was happy to hear that you'd made a new life for yourself after they'd managed to destroy you completely. It wasn't the tone of an old friend who you hadn't seen in years and who you're about to agree to hang out with and tell them about everything that happened in your lives.
No, it was the tone he had used every day, every hour, when he needed to belittle her, when he needed to make her feel insignificant, worthless.
"Mom?"
Nesta turned her head so slowly toward her son, blinking, that she must have seemed like another person entirely. No longer the proud, strong woman she'd shown everyone for years on that side. Ezra had one eyebrow arched, as if wondering what was going on, and was clasping hands with a jumping Celia.
She didn't have the energy to turn around, to look at the man who had pushed her to the bottom of the barrel and destroyed her, but she managed to throw out a weak, "Kids we have to go, we're not taking anything." then turning to Cal, she took his arm, pulling him towards his siblings, "Let's go."
She felt Tomas' eyes creeping over her like slimy hands. She could still remember the last time he'd touched her, when she'd gone over the edge, offering herself to him to avoid yet another fight or worse.
For that, when his true hand tightened around her wrist, pulling her slightly to let her stay there, she flinched.
"Nesta."
She spun around, bringing her free hand to her belly for protection. When the little girl inside her kicked again, making her groan through her teeth in pain, Tomas smiled in a way that made Nesta hope she was anywhere but there.
"Is she kicking?"
And then it all happened quickly. She couldn't move, couldn't pull away, as the grip on her wrist tightened and Tomas pulled her closer to him and placed his other hand on her stomach, next to hers. A soundless sob escaped her control and her breath labored as she felt his fingers move over her shirt.
She was going to throw up.
She gave a tug so hard that the twinge of pain started at her wrist and reached her elbow, but she was free. She smacked the hand on her, taking several steps back and bringing Cal with her. She had started pushing the front of the cart, trying to position it in the direction they had come from.
She met Ezra's gaze for a moment, before her son's eyes slipped behind her, on Tomas' figure.
"Ezra." she called to him in a firm voice. Four pairs of eyes snapped in his direction. That was the tone of a tired mother issuing orders to her children at the end of the day, "Eyes on me."
She didn't want anything of Tomas's to come into contact with her children. She didn't want him to contaminate them the way he had contaminated her.
She lifted Cal off the ground and the child quietly let her pick him up without too much of a fuss. She didn't feel the strain at all as she pulled him high enough to put him in the cart with the girls. Looking at her oldest, she hoped she could secure him like she was doing with the other three, but he was too big to fit in the cart himself.
Before she could tell him to follow her without saying a word, Tomas spoke again.
"What a beautiful name, Ezra," she felt the venom bind each letter.
Ezra was about to turn around, probably to thank him, as she and Cassian had taught him, but Nesta squeezed his shoulder, "Keep looking ahead and walking, I don't want you talking to him."
"Always so fucking obnoxious," Tomas spat at that point.
Nesta froze in her tracks. She could feel him following them as he tortured her. Ezra froze beside her, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention.
Always so obnoxious. You're useless, worthless. I'm the only person who will ever be able to put up with your bullshit. You'll never find anyone else.
She felt the panic rise, the agitation for one of her children to realize how uncomfortable she was at that moment. She closed and opened her hands on the cart's handlebars, hoping to relieve some of that tension.
"I'm amazed to see you with so many children," he continued, creeping up beside her and stopping in front of her cart, blocking her way with his. She looked up at him, feeling the air scratch at her throat. He had aged, she could see it in the features around his eyes, his mouth - he had aged and yet still had the same look. "I didn't think you'd ever date again after I left you."
I left you. She wanted to tell him. I had the courage to leave.
She didn't answer him, straightening her back.
Tomas smirked, lowering his gaze to her daughters and his smile widened even more.
"Don't look at them," she snapped, still maintaining her composure.
The man looked up at her one more time, "They'll be just as pretty as their mother when they grow up." then looked at Cal and Ezra, sliding a finger over the edge of his cart. "Who's the father?"
"Dada." muttered Celia, flapping her little hands.
Nesta wanted to recoil at the sound. She didn't want Tomas to hear her talk, didn't want him to watch them. She didn't want them breathing his same air.
"It's none of your business and now move over," she whispered to him. All she could think about was the fact that she had to get her children out of there as soon as possible. Therefore, when he didn't move an inch, she added. "Please."
Tomas laughed. He laughed, leaning his head back and clutching his hand around the mesh of her cart. "Nessie Nessie," he clicked his tongue on his palate, a remnant of laughter in the tone of his voice that made the woman's gut tangle, "I haven't seen you in so long. I want to know everything."
"Please." she repeated, as her eyes filled with tears. His own widened slightly, surprised to see such a reaction in her. She didn't care if he saw her weak, she didn't care if she had to get down on her knees. He was keeping them trapped, and Nesta knew he wouldn't let them leave until he squeezed even the last drop of sanity out of her.
If Ezra still realized what was going on, she didn't know, and it scared her even more. Cal was looking at her and looked worried, probably having never seen her so shaken in her life.
She was about to beg him a third time. Beg him to free her from whatever that game was that they were stuck in at that moment, but someone said her name. Ezra looked behind them and Nesta saw the shadow of a smile on his face, prompting her to turn around in turn. A choked sound escaped her throat as she bit her upper lip to keep from bursting into tears, and a wave of gratitude washed over her.
"Miss Archeron," the man smiled at her. Drakon Cretea had been Nesta and Cassian's neighbor for years now. He and his wife Myriam had babysat their children so many times that they were their go-to people. In fact, Celia and Nora had snapped to their feet at the sound of the voice of the acquired grandfather they loved so much.
Nesta didn't waste a moment turning the cart so that it faced Drakon. The children, Ezra included, began to cheer happily at having met a familiar face, and Nesta allowed herself to look over her shoulder.
With such relief that she thought she might collapse to the ground, she saw that Tomas was already pulling away, and as he turned the corner, pulling into another aisle, she took a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes.
She had made it.
***
Cassian was exhausted.
He had spent the entire day grading exams for first-year students with his aide, and it was as if he could see the letters behind his eyelids every time he blinked. It was much more feasible to work in the university library, where he didn't risk being interrupted by a child every five minutes, but he only tried to do it once or twice a month during exam sessions, knowing full well how exhausting it was for Nesta to keep up with all the children together until late in the evening, especially now that Andra was about to arrive.
"Andra." he murmured into the silence of his car. Nesta kept telling him that they weren't sure that would be the name of their fifth child, but Cassian didn't care. He just needed to name his wife's belly when talking to his daughter.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned off the car in the driveway and stepped out, stretching his arms up just enough to make his back crack.
Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he huffed. It was too late for his girls to still be awake, but maybe he'd be able to say goodnight to Cal and Ezra.
He had warned Nesta that he was going to be late, and she had simply replied that she would leave dinner ready in the kitchen for when he returned.
Opening the front door, he immediately saw two little dark heads popping up from above the couch. Cal was already running at him when he closed the door behind him and jumped on him as soon as he had put his stuff down, "Dad!"
"Kiddo!" said Cassian throwing him into the air.
Cal laughed waving his arms, "Sssh," he scolded him still laughing, "the girls are sleeping."
"Oops," dad made a guilty face, stopping their game and putting Cal down.
Ezra was too focused on watching TV and wasn't paying the slightest attention to Cassian, but he walked over to the couch anyway, lowering himself just enough so he could leave a kiss on his hair, "Hi love." he murmured to him.
The little boy's head snapped toward him and with a crooked smile on his face and his pajama collar in his mouth, he said, "Hi dad."
Cassian scoffed amused, ripping his pajamas from between his teeth, "How many times have I told you not to eat your clothes?"
"Sorry," Ezra said, not sounding sorry at all.
Cal had gone back to lying next to his brother and they both seemed too caught up in the cartoon to pay any attention to it, so he went into the kitchen, loosening the tie around his neck and praying that Nesta had cooked something good - though the opposite was quite unlikely considering the woman's innate cooking skills.
He moaned with delight when he realized it was the meatballs she always made when she didn't feel like cooking and, taking the plate, he headed back to the living room. He plopped down in between his sons, taking the pajamas out of Ezra's mouth again and offering them both a meatball.
"So, what have you guys been up to today?" asked Cassian with a full mouth, slipping off his shoes and placing his feet on the coffee table.
First Cal and then Ezra told him in full detail about what they had done at school and then about the fact that none of them had slept that afternoon. Cassian was surprised to find out that Cal could still stand up without getting any rest.
When they got to the point where Nesta had taken them out walking and they had made it all the way to the supermarket, he had stopped them.
"Guys come on," he looked at them with incredulous eyes, "I told you to keep her home."
It was true. Lately Nesta had been pushing her limits when the doctors had told her to exert herself and stress as little as possible. With childbirth imminent too, it was risky for her to walk around without any other adults.
Ezra had the decency to look guilty, "I know, but-"
"We also met a weird dude," Cal interrupted him.
Cassian looked at him taking on a confused expression, "Weird?"
"Yeah, he knew mom," Ezra nodded, looking at the TV and talking thoughtlessly. He was bowing his head slowly and Cassian unconsciously extended a hand towards him, shutting his mouth before he could start chewing on the fabric once again. He looked at him at that point, continuing the story, "Mom was all weird, though."
"Weird." repeated Cassian.
"Yeah, weird." repeated Cal in turn, then chuckled, "He even hit me with the cart."
He and Ezra laughed together, remembering how Cal had fallen on his bum, but Cassian's thoughts were elsewhere. Clearly the fact that someone had rolled his son with a cart must not have been traumatic or painful, or Nesta would have called him and Cal wouldn't have been there laughing, but the fact that they had described her with an adjective like "weird" had him on high alert.
"Do you happen to know the man's name?" asked Cassian, pulling himself up and setting his plate down on the coffee table, keeping his gaze on his hands.
Ezra shook his head, "No, also because mom didn't talk to him much and then Drakon showed up."
"Oh, yeah," Cal repeated excitedly, his eyes glowing, "then Drakon showed up."
Cassian was on his feet before his youngest son had finished speaking. He started up the stairs to go upstairs, where he hoped he would find Nesta awake, but warned the two little men that he would go change and be back down to them in a jiffy.
With a strained expression and a bad feeling working its way through him, he walked down the hall, opening the door to his daughters' room slightly. Both Celia and Nora were already fast asleep, and Cassian felt a smile break out on his lips... his little gems. He couldn't believe yet another one would be arriving soon.
He closed the door, making sure not to make any noise, and then headed to his room, praying that Nesta was okay and that his children had misunderstood everything.
He heard her before he even entered. He could picture her pacing back and forth through their room, muttering about what was bothering her at the moment.
He took a deep breath, ready to fight whatever demons there would be to fight that night together, and tightening his hand around the doorknob, he lowered it, pushing himself into the room.
Nesta stopped short, both hands wrapped under her belly to help support that extra weight she was always complaining about.
The second Cassian's eyes found hers, her expression completely transformed and a desperate sob broke the silence that had formed between them.
"Nesta." he said as if someone had just sucked the air from his lungs. Reaching for her with two quick strides and wrapping her in his arms, Cassian heard all kinds of emotion in his wife's crying.
When he stroked her back, Nesta let go a wail of pain and he immediately pulled away, still keeping his hands around her elbows as much as her cold hands tightened around his forearms.
"God, Nesta what happened?"
She only cried harder, loosening her grip on him when she was sure he wouldn't pull away. She managed to say between sobs, "Everything hurts."
Cassian felt as if the floor has cracked open beneath them. "Is it the baby?"
Nesta's eyes went wide, probably only realizing at that moment what state he'd found her in, "No, she's fine." then, seeing his increasingly worried expression, she added, "I promise the baby's fine."
Cassian sagged at little, reducing his lips to a thin line, gently pushed her towards the bed to get her to sit up, but Nesta shook her head, taking short, overly fast breaths, "I can't."
Cassian paused, taking her hands and trying to restrain himself from asking her who they had met that afternoon that had managed to trigger such a reaction in her. There was no way she could have been in that state just from being tired.
"I can't." repeated Nesta sobbing and looking into his eyes. "Everything hurts, Cassian."
He sighed, closing his eyes. Seeing her in this state was nothing new unfortunately. With four pregnancies behind them and everything they'd been through in the years prior to their marriage, it wasn't unusual for either of them to be in such a condition.
He opened his eyes, trying to keep a firm tone, "How come you can't sit down?"
"If I sit the pain gets worse." she said between choked breaths.
Cassian furrowed his brow, wanting to yell at her about how stupid it had been of her to go walking that afternoon, but he restrained himself. "Have you tried lying down?" he proposed.
Nesta shook her head again, "Any position hurts my back or my legs," she explained.
"Tell you what," he began hesitantly, taking both of her hands, "why don't you put on those super pants that support your belly - or I'll help you put them on, it's no problem," he added quickly when he saw the pain in her features, "and then I'll give you a leg massage while you're standing?" he said smiling at her coyly. Nesta sniffed, nodding slowly. "And when sitting doesn't hurt anymore or is bearable you get on your knees on the bed or lean against the keyboard and I massage your back too, are you up for that?"
She squeezed his hands to let him know she was okay with everything, so Cassian smiled at her, returning the squeeze and starting to pull away from her to go get the leggings, but Nesta's eyes went wide and a few tears rolled down her cheeks, "Where are you going?"
Cassian grimaced worriedly.
Why hadn't she called him if she was feeling this bad?
He moved back as close as he could without crushing Andra between them, "I was just going to get my pajamas, Nes, and your pants." he placed a hand on her face, stroking away the remnants of her crying. Then he sighed, pushing her forehead into his and keeping his eyes open as he whispered, "I love you."
She repeated it quietly, almost a sigh.
He undressed quickly, slipping into his pajamas with equal haste as Nesta stood motionless in the center of the room, waiting for him to return to her.
"Listen," Cassian began, kneeling in front of her as he helped her out of the pajama pants she was wearing, "the boys told me you met someone today." he forced himself to look at her, when the grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened. Cassian studied the reaction he'd elicited from her and bit the inside of his cheek, seeing how Nesta had frozen and put her foot down. He took a deep breath, giving her knee a little tap to let her know she needed to get it back up, "They didn't tell me who it was and I don't think they know, but I got some ideas and I want-" he swallowed loudly, thinking seriously about what might have happened if his doubts were real, "If it's Tomas, I want to know if you're okay." he said in a lower voice, looking at her from under his lashes. Nesta didn't answer.
He had managed to get both of her feet into her pants and was pulling them up gently, trying not to hurt her. He had to pull up the skirt of the robe she used during all her pregnancies when none of her pajamas fit anymore, uncovering her belly and left a gentle kiss on her skin, smiling at his daughter, "Hello my little sunshine."
He felt Nesta shiver and thinking it was from the cold he hurried to cover her belly with her pants and then pull her nightgown down.
He looked at her more seriously than ever as he settled on the floor in front of her so he could massage her into a comfortable position. He was about to speak, to ask her again how she was doing, but she beat him to it.
"What did you do today?" she asked in a weak voice.
Cassian closed his mouth, bouncing his legs, pondering whether to insist that she spoke or let her distract him with that question. He decided for the latter, even though his wife already knew very well what he had done that day, "This morning there was an exam of Ancient History for the first years." he began to speak while pressing his thumbs on her left thigh. Nesta was leaning her hands on his shoulders. "I have to be honest, I've never seen exams as crappy and ignorant as this session's," he continued while keeping his gaze fixed on her face. "It's like people stopped studying all of a sudden and thought they could pass my exams by learning the bare minimum."
He shifted on her other thigh and Nesta snapped forward, groaning softly as Cassian touched a particularly numb muscle.
"Sorry." he smiled at her, "Then at lunch I stayed in the faculty with Gwyn and Luc, and by the way, they asked me if you'd be okay with organizing a lunch this weekend, with everyone?"
Nesta rolled her eyes, "I can't even walk, let alone plan a lunch with everyone," she pointed out to him in an irritated tone.
Cassian chuckled, "I'll let Gwyn know you told her to fuck off nicely."
"Yes, thank you," she replied to him. But then she bit her lip, thoughtfully, "But if they want to do something at her or Elain's that's fine. I can also cook, but not here, please, I don't feel like tidying up afterwards." she looked into his eyes with a pleading look.
"It's okay, it's not a problem," he shifted to her calves, "Although, if the only problem has to be the fact that you don't feel like tidying up, you know I wouldn't let you."
Nesta grunted, "I don't want you to do all the work yourself."
Cassian let out a puff of air through his nostrils, "You can't be the only one working hard in this house Nes, let me have some of the glory too." he joked.
"But I'm not the only one." she said in an overly serious tone, "You're always at work and I know you're working overtime, filling in for your colleagues, don't think I haven't noticed," she scolded him. Cassian lowered his head, feeling his cheeks turn red. "And I'm here at home and I can't work and I've been like this for months now and even before that with Celia-" she sighed, bringing a hand to her face, "I just wish I could help you bring something extra home."
Cassian stopped massaging her leg, surprised at what he was hearing. He moved away from her, enough so that he could stand up without bumping into her stomach and then looked at her, shaking his head, "What on earth are you talking about?" he asked, "Nesta you're raising our children. You're doing a much more tiring and exhausting job than mine ever will be." he pulled himself upright, "True, it's just as rewarding and enjoyable to be able to stay home and watch our children grow up, but you're the biggest help I could ever get right now. We don't need money right now."
"But-"
"No buts." he said arching his eyebrows and pushing her towards the bed, "Do you think you can sit?" she nodded pensively and let him help her up onto the mattress. "Nesta what you're doing is admirable and I'm sure not everyone could handle it as well as you can."
Nesta stopped in the middle of the bed, turning to look at him with a shocked expression.
Cassian was just as shocked. That she didn't realize how much she was actually helping him was beyond comprehension.
"I can only get by because you're there," she murmured, looking away, "I'd never make it on my own."
"And no one expects you to make it, Nes." he said stunned. He really couldn't understand where all the doubt was coming from, "You don't have to make it on your own and you're not doing it on your own."
He had her settled so that her back was to him and she was turned to the wall. He placed his hands over her back and began to make concise circles on the bottom, applying pressure where he knew the pain was most concentrated. Nesta's head fell forward in relief.
"You really don't think you're helping me in any way?"
"No, I-" she froze mid-sentence, "It's not that."
"Then what is it?" he asked, using his knuckles to massage her shoulder muscles.
Nesta groaned softly, "It's just that I wish I could go back to work and read all the books I want and I wish I could feel tired and be able to let my kids cry without anyone telling me what to do and how to do it. I wish I could move without the terror of going into labor at any moment and-" she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I wish I wasn't so hormonal right now."
He could tell that her thoughts were all over the place.
There had been other such crises during Celia's pregnancy. The fear that they wouldn't measure up as parents to so many children. They were in constant thought that they were not giving them enough, that they were teaching them the wrong lessons. Cassian had received some nasty comments himself about how they were raising their children, and he knew right away that someone must have said something to Nesta that day.
They had always had stronger, more heartfelt reactions on her, and now that she was pregnant it was all much more altered.
"What happened today?" he asked her under his breath after a few moments of silence.
"No one slept, I didn't have a moment's peace and then we left and walked to the mall. I had to carry Nora all the way there and-" her voice broke on the last sentence and Cassian stopped his ministrations on her. He laid both hands on her back, getting as close as he could, letting his hands slide down her hips and then over her belly, until his chest made contact with her back and Nesta pushed back against him.
She dropped her head onto Cassian's shoulder.
"And?" he murmured, spurring her on.
"Everything hurt so much, Cass," she replied in a watery voice, "It was like I was being stabbed in the back and I couldn't put Nora down because she'd start crying."
A sharp twinge of pain shot through his chest. He began to gently massage her belly and shortly after he felt her small hands settle on his, pushing harder, "No one would try to say you're a bad mother just because you don't pick up your daughter when you're hurting."
She didn't answer.
"Celia?" he asked.
"Ezra and Cal held her hand the whole way, she walked so much," she said with a half smile on her face. "When we walked in they immediately started acting up and then they started crying and I couldn't take it anymore and these ladies said I was an awful mother and it's true, Cassian." she jerked in his arms as she said those last words. He only held her tighter, taking a deep breath. "Who is the mother who can't calm her own children when they cry? Her own children." she shook her head, running a hand under her eyes.
He couldn't see her face, but he knew she had started crying again.
"Nesta listen to me." he whispered to her, kissing her shoulder and then the tip of her ear. "You are the most loving and caring mother I know. Your children are perfectly healthy and you've never let them lack for anything. You've never raised your voice to them. You've never threatened them or grounded them-"
"I'm not a monster," she muttered.
"And more importantly," he said smiling and holding her tighter, "your children are happy."
"But Cal today-"
"Cal is downstairs watching TV with his brother and he's been telling me about his day and he's the happiest kid ever," he interrupted her, "Just because he threw a tantrum and cried a little doesn't mean you're not a good mother."
She sighed and nodded, though she didn't look convinced.
Cassian continued to stroke the spots on her belly where he knew her skin pulled the most, her hand still on his playing with the wedding ring on his finger when Nesta said, "I saw Tomas today."
Cassian froze behind her, holding his breath. He'd known it, but hearing the fear in her voice now as she said the name of the man Cassian hated most in the world didn't stop him from wincing.
"He bumped Cal with the cart and knocked him over and I didn't realize it was him until he called me," Nesta continued.
When Cassian spoke, his voice came out much harsher and tighter than he intended, "Did he-" he cleared his throat, "Did he say anything?"
"No, he-" Nesta brought both hands to her stomach, shifting his. She moved uncomfortably in his arms and Cassian loosened his grip on his wife, realizing she wanted to move. He grabbed her by the hips, trying to pull her up so she could turn toward him, and when she was finally sitting up with her back against the headboard of the bed, she sighed. "I saw him, Cass, and I froze." she said under her breath, looking into his eyes. "He touched Cal's hair and it was like he was touching me, again, and I completely froze and then the baby kicked and he touched my-" she took a ragged breath as her eyes filled with tears. When she spoke again, her voice was so weak that Cassian had to appeal to every ounce of his reasoning not to get up and go find Tomas to kill him.
He took her hands, remaining silent as a revolting feeling took over his body. The idea of Nesta being touched by that filthy man made his guts turn. The idea of his children-
A choked sob brought him back into the room, "And I wanted him to go and stop looking at Ezra and Celia and Nora and I could only move when Ezra called me, but he followed us and blocked our way. He asked me about you, wanted to know who you were, and it was like going back in time and I couldn't- I couldn't, Cass-" Nesta brought a hand to her chest, her eyes and mouth wide as panic appeared in her gaze and air struggled to reach her lungs.
Cassian squeezed her hands, speaking softly, "Nesta, it's okay." a sob from her, "You're all home." he murmured starting to massage her palm, "You're home with me."
Her breathing became even more erratic and she shook her head, closing her eyes.
Cassian closed his eyes as well, "I'm sorry you had to see him again and I'm sorry you couldn't move, but it's understandable, sweetheart." he was trying to keep his tone of voice relatively low, to calm her down, but it was proving difficult for him as he viewed Tomas watching his daughters. "He shouldn't have touched your belly. He shouldn't have just touched you at all. And he shouldn't have gotten close to Cal or Andra." he seethed. "And if I could I would go to him and rip his hands off." he let slip as he imagined the terror Nesta must have felt at that moment.
Nesta sobbed and the sound broke Cassian's heart, "I'm sorry," she said, "I'm sorry."
A pang of pain tightened in his chest as his face turned into a mask of controlled anger, "Don't ever apologize to me, please," he whispered, "Not for this stuff."
"But I couldn't do anything, even after all this time-" a hiccup broke the sentence, "He still has all this power over me. It's not fair."
It's not fair.
Cassian nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, "You're right, it's not fair." he squeezed her hands lightly, telling her to look at his face. She quickly did so. "You're not with him anymore. You're free. You don't owe him anything, just like you never owed him anything." Nesta took a shaky breath, stopping sobbing. "You have a family, you're a wonderful mother and wife. And you deserve all of this."
Nesta's eyes went wide, realizing where this was going.
Cassian took a deep breath, "You're not worthless, you're not hopeless or useless." he closed his eyes as Nesta mimicked him, breathing deeply in turn. "You are a strong, independent woman, it doesn't matter how much he said otherwise. It didn't matter before and it doesn't matter now. It's just meaningless words.
"I know you, Nesta, and you are the light of my life. The light of every person in this house. The only thing that keeps us going." he whispered in a weak voice, as Nesta leaned forward toward him and cried silently.
Cassian moved closer to her on the mattress so that she could rest her forehead against his chest, his shoulder, wherever she wanted, for support.
He had repeated those words to her so many times over the years. He didn't think he'd ever have to do it again, certainly not after so long that they both knew Tomas had moved to another continent entirely.
"I know you and you're nothing like he describes," he encircled her shoulders with arms when Nesta let go of a particularly loud sob. "You are the exact opposite of what he says." he kissed one temple, stroking the hair on her back.
She shivered in his arms, "I know." she whispered against his shirt.
Cassian managed to force a smile onto his lips, even though she couldn't see it, he knew she would hear it when he spoke, "I'm proud of you."
"Why?"
"Because I can only imagine how hard it was for you to see him again, and although I would have appreciated a different approach to everything that happened this afternoon, you handled it perfectly and our kids are fine." he passed his hands over her shoulders and pushed her away from him so he could look at her face. "And it's okay that you broke down now, it's normal. I'm glad you told me about it. Thank you." he spoke against her lips.
She smiled, breathing a laugh through her tears, "I love you."
"I love you." repeated Cassian, sighing. He cupped her cheek, brushing a thumb under her eye, before kissing her. No rush or force, just pure, raw emotion as their lips caressed in a desperate kiss.
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Hello :) Could you possibly do a fic about Kuboyasu and the reader trying to keep their relationship a secret from all their friends cause it’s both their first relationship but slowly everyone starts to find out on their own but hide it to themselves since they think they’re the only ones who know (and saiki is ready to just out their relationship since it’s just getting ridiculous at this point) im sorry if this is a lot
Howdy! It’s fine 😊 I really liked this idea too, anyways:
———
The Not-So-Secret Secret
———
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: None
Characters: Kuboyasu Aren
———
“No one is here right now,” at your words, Kuboyasu slinks into the classroom after you, shutting the door behind him. He’s a bit nervous; then again, it’s not his fault, today has been one of the hardest days since he first started dating you! Kuboyasu wouldn’t trade your relationship for anything in the world (especially considering he’s already thought of a perfect house for the two of you with a great view) but also because this is Kuboyasu’s first time in a relationship, and he doesn’t want to mess it up.
Messing things up is the special skill that only belongs to Nendou and Kaidou – and as much as Kuboyasu considers them part of his friend circle, he knows they’d blow things out of proportion! Your privacy would be over, Kaidou and Nendou always around to coo at you guys or just be general nuisances.
It didn’t take much effort for you to convince Kuboyasu that you should keep your relationship on the “down low” until you felt prepared to take the next step together. But that made moments like these much more special, much more desperate so forgive Kuboyasu for being antsy to kiss you. It’s not his fault you’re so damn attractive! In his haste, Kuboyasu hadn’t locked the door.
Usually that wouldn’t be an issue at all but today just happened to be the day that Kaidou was hunting down Dark Reunion. And for some unknown reason Dark Reunion was lurking around your class. Kaidou glances past the class – no Dark Reunion there – but there are definitely two people in a corner. Could they be possessed? Kaidou leans in, pushing the door open slightly -- expecting to catch supernatural activities; instead he catches you and Kuboyasu… making out.
Kaidou nearly screams but instead bites his tongue. He’s about to cry from the pain but you two are too focused to see him. Kaidou leaves immediately, in shock from what he’d seen. He’s got to tell everyone now.
And then he enters class, ready to divulge your secrets but for some reason he can’t speak. (You owe Saiki a favor for that). Could this be some higher power telling Kaidou not to out your relationship? He is the only one who knows… it must be his task to protect your relationship! That’s it!
“Oi shortie, why are you standing there like an idiot?” Kaidou blanks at Nendou’s words, is he getting called an idiot by Nendou of all people? Nendou?!
“Take that back, I’m not stupid like you!”
“Duh, it’s ‘cuz you’re stupider!”
By the time you walk in, Nendou and Kaidou are going at it like a bunch of wild cats.
———
If you ask Kuboyasu, he’s been doing a great job at this “hiding your relationship” game. Sure, he’s almost kissed you twice when Takahashi walked by; Kuboyasu had to grab a chair to threaten Takahashi into silence – it’s not one of his finest moments.
You’ve managed to only call him by his first name twice, and Saiki had been walking by, but the pink-haired male hadn’t reacted, so you should be safe for now. Truthfully Saiki had heard everything clearly (Saiki could even hear Kuboyasu’s overly romantic thoughts) but Saiki would much rather pretend he heard nothing to avoid having to hold a conversation with you two. Saves him the hassle.
And things were going perfectly too – and then they weren’t because you’d called him Aren and Hairo had passed by. Unlike Saiki, Hairo didn’t seem willing to let it go.
“Oh wow, when did you become that close?!” His excitement isn’t dulled by the awkward expressions you and Kuboyasu are sporting. Your boyfriend is tempted to knock Hairo out and run away but the red head would get up almost immediately.
“Last weekend!” “Yesterday!”
Hairo ignores your double answer, “ah is this something private? That’s okay then! Don’t mind me!” He leaves, leaving both of you dumbstruck. Kuboyasu lets out a sigh of relief – today you’d once again escaped being caught.
Unbeknownst to both of you Teruhashi had been hiding in a conveniently placed closet (not because she’s stalking you or trying to hide from her adoring fans, definitely not) and had overheard everything. The minute you leave she’s scrambling out with a squeal, barely containing her excitement.
They’re so cute! I wonder if I could have a secret relationship with Saiki in the future…
(Saiki unconsciously shivers in class, for some reason he thought he felt someone with bad intentions…)
———
The next person who finds about your not-so-secret-secret relationship is Toritsuka. He didn’t mean to find out, but one of the ghosts Toritsuka had been begging to help him get a relationship had mentioned it.
“Your behavior is the reason you aren’t in a relationship like [Name] and Kuboyasu!” Toritsuka had purposefully ignored the ghost’s rebuking, instead focusing on the important part. Kuboyasu is dating you! That swine Kuboyasu hadn’t even thought to mention it! Was Kuboyasu purposefully making fun of the eternally single like Toritsuka?
He’s about to question the ghost further but the ghost vanishes before he can ask any proper questions. This leaves Toritsuka one option.
Stalk you both to get the evidence with his own eyes! When Toritsuka finally gathers concrete proof, he could burst in and have his righteously earned yelling match with Kuboyasu. You don’t just not tell your friends that you’ve gotten an S/O and get away with it.
His plan is foolproof, just follow you guys around. It’s actually surprising how Tortisuka didn’t notice earlier. Kuboyasu tends to drift towards you, sometimes without even knowing. In group projects you’re always partnered together… it’s like you’re conjoined twins.
Is this the will of the universe, that those who are blessed will naturally be lucky in their romantic endeavors? Toritsuka glances to the side and catches Yumehara and Teruhashi fawning over Saiki – he barely stifles a sob.
On the upside if your relationship is secret then you can’t flaunt your relationship! It’s the reason he doesn’t say anything even after confirming that you two must be dating. As far as everyone else is concerned, all three of you are single.
———
You think you’re doing a great job at keeping your relationship secret! You know you have to be doing a great job. No one has noticed yet! What you don’t know is that literally everybody is aware.
And Saiki’s getting tired of the shenanigans that surround it. At first, he could just ignore everything, but that was before Kaidou found out, then Toritsuka, Saiko, Yumehara, Mera and even Hairo and Nendou! He could stand everything until Teruhashi found out – your relationship seemed to give her fantasies about the possible secret relationship Saiki and Teruhashi “should” have (it’s not going to happen).
While he could barely tolerate those antics, it hit a boiling point when you started to use him as an excuse. Someone ask what you were doing with Kuboyasu? Your instant reply is that Saiki had asked you to get something from Kuboyasu. Normally that would be fine, but Kaidou had taken it upon himself to hound Saiki into “giving up on [Name]”, as if Saiki had been interested in the first place.
Approximately half a month had passed, and Saiki swears if you try one more word, he’s going to tell everyone and get it over with. Kuboyasu had been wanting to mention it for a while too, so it shouldn’t cause that big of an issue.
The only good thing was when you finally admitted that you were dating Kuboyasu, and everyone had to put on their best “I’m totally surprised face”.
Spoiler alert: No one was surprised.
#kuboyasu aren x reader#saiki no psi nan#saiki k imagines#saiki k scenarios#kuboyasu aren#soli's imagines#gender neutral s/o#gender neutral reader#the disastrous life of saiki k.#the disastrous life of saiki k x reader
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