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mugiwara-rosewolf · 7 months

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All My Life

Part One II Part Two

Sabo x F! Reader

Summary: Reader has been a Revolutionary since birth. But her first mission went terribly wrong, leaving her friend Sabo terribly scarred. They've stuck together since the day he lost his memory--but she remembers everything. So when news hits the papers, and Sabo falls ill, Reader has to grapple with the outcomes and consequences of her first and longest-running mission. Has she succeeded or failed? What happens when her former-amnesiac Sabo finally remembers her?

Warnings: Slight Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Trauma, Medium Angst & Mild Cursing.

ROGER'S SON, FIRE FIST ACE, DEAD AT MARINEFORD

This is it. I failed. Two out of three thoughts circled in Y/N's head. Day in and day out. Sun up to sun down. The third, well, the third, was on a loop all its own. A sensation not unlike an iron brand or an ice pick to the chest every time she heard those words inside her head.

Guard him with your life.

That's what Dragon had told her. Her, her mother, her father - her parent's final mission when they set off all those years ago. 'I've hidden something precious on that island. Your mission is to Guard it with your life.' At first, she thought it was just Luffy she was meant to protect. They had docked at Fuschia Village and moved in right next to a little barkeep and one Monkey D. Luffy, and she assumed that was the end of that. Just keep that little twerp out of trouble as best she could, and her mission would be complete.

Then those blasted pirates came to town and threw a wrench in their plans. She should've known those pirates were a goddamned trouble magnet. Bringing mountain bandits down on their heads. Convincing Luffy to stab himself in the face...and that stupid straw hat. After that, things only ever got worse. Luffy was dragged into the mountains by his grandfather, so of course, Y/N chased after him. But then - for reasons unfathomable to her - Luffy started chasing after Ace. The idiot was constantly risking his life for the sake of some stranger who literally put the two of them through Hell.

Of course, that boy would turn out to be the son of a Demon.

Portgas D Ace, the lost son and only descendant of the legendary Gold Roger. A boy she hadn't put any stock in at first. A feral child she assumed to be some spawn that loud-mouthed bandit lady didn't want. At first, the truth sent Y/N reeling.

Wait, is this what Dragon really meant? She thought. Something Precious. Guard it with your Life.

Suddenly, not was she in the presence of the son of Dragon, but also the son of Roger -- two of the most wanted legacies in all the world. Two lives the World Government would love to snuff out for good. Guard it with your life. Guard it with your life. The words kept cycling, skipping, repeating in her head over and over again. So that's what she did.

Sworn to secrecy, Y/N dedicated herself to ensuring that Luffy and Ace survived to reach their majority. Saving Luffy's sorry butt from those blasted Blue Jam Pirates. Bailing that hot-tempered Ace out of fights he couldn't win. Teaching both boys how to sneak behind grownups undetected. To pick their pockets. To play to their sympathies and get what ya want from them. Garp and the bandits called them all reckless hoodlums. But the only hoodlum who had ever reached back and saved her skin - was Sabo.

He knew the lay of the land better than almost anyone. Could navigate both Grey Terminal and the Inner City even with his eyes closed. And if Ace wouldn't listen to her in a fight (which was often), he would listen to Sabo. And that was good enough for her. He was kinder to Luffy than either Ace or Y/N had the patience for, trying his best to train the boy in his devil fruit even with no powers of his own.

Powerless. She remembered that day. The day that golden boy in blue turned himself into - no, for us. Y/N bit her cheek. He left to save us.

She remembered the night when the fire started. Everything happened at once till all that came to mind was a rush of sensations. The smell of burning flesh. The ring of dying screams. The stampede of footsteps, desperate to escape.

'Luffy! Ace!'

Howling and screaming for her parents in the wreckage, when she couldn't see a thing.

'Mama! Papa!'

Lost in the maze of melting metal and tongues of flame. Guard them with your life. Guard them with your life. The words on repeat and repeat and repeat - and then he appeared. The source of that never-ending mantra.

Monkey D. Dragon himself.

Y/N reported the situation, just as she'd been trained. It didn't matter that she was straining for breath. The tears blurring her vision didn't matter. Coarse hands smeared the saltwater and grime from her cheeks.

'Head to the ship,' His deep voice instructed. 'I will take it from here.'

Y/N did as she was told. Upon Dragon's ship, her fellow Revolutionaries were awaiting her. All senior agents and officers. She spent all night in the crow's nest of that ship, watching the black plumes of smoke rise into the night. Eyes eagerly searched the dancing firelight for any silhouette she might recognize.

'Luffy, Ace, Mama, Papa - where are you?'

Surely Dragon would find them. Surely Dragon would take them home. Goa was no longer safe if it ever was. Surely Ace and Luffy could be better protected on Baltigo. Surely she and her family could take a break from active duty. Then finally, she could be honest with her friends.

Her parents never came home.

She never saw her friends again.

Upon the first light of morning, the only thing she saw was the smouldering wastes of Grey Terminal. -What was left of it, anyway. The Revolutionaries set to caring for those who escaped the wreckage. The refugees who now, more so than ever, had truly lost everything. All that day, Y/N's fellow agents looked after the wounded, offering them food and drink, even a place among their ranks. All the while, Y/N kept her eyes fixed on what remained of her family's hunting grounds. The jungle was thankfully untouched. The Upper City almost disgustingly so. But she saw no movement amidst the smoke and metal. No familiar silhouettes. No one.

The only things of note were the sounds of cheering and the blasting of a canon. Some sort of fanfare or festival must've been going on on the other side of the city. The sky scraping sprawl of the Nobles' estates kept Y/N from getting a clear view of its source. The Celestial Dragons must've been approaching the southerly port, she thought. She wouldn't have known that if Sabo hadn't drawn a map for her all those months ago.

Sabo... Her chest ached at the thought. She imagined the boy trapped behind a window in one of those pristine white buildings. His whole life was condemned to stay behind layers upon layers of cold stone walls. If Ace and Luffy died in that fire, their brother would never be free.

And what about me? The thought occurred to her as a chill down her spine. What force for good would she be if she knew he was trapped there and did nothing? What kind of friend would she be if she left them all behind? Yet again, Dragon's commission reverberated in her mind. Guard them with your life. Guard them with your life. --but how?!

Sunlight was already being swallowed by the sea by the time Dragon returned. Y/N could see the black of his cloak wandering between piles of smouldering rubble. But beyond her target's line of sight, something else caught her eye. Out there, floating in on the tide, was a familiar stove pipe hat. The glint of those oversized goggles at their brim was unmistakable.

Sabo!

Without a thought, Y/N leapt from the crows' nest and dove headfirst into that tepid water. The impact stole the breath from her lungs. But she didn't have time to stop. Arms and legs pressed her onwards, chest burning. Through the blur of the salt water, she could see the petite silhouette, those tailored blue clothes stained in smoke and blood.

Blood-?! Y/N paddled faster. The current pushed and pulled her side to side, tearing her off course, but she would not be deterred. Diving deeper, she perched herself on the nearest boulder on the ocean floor. She could feel the pressure of the ocean trying to pull her down. But the shadow cast by Sabo's limp body in the water spurred her on. She pushed off the rock and up towards the surface. Her arms crooked *just so* to catch Sabo under his arms and catapult them into the fresh air.

Foam and shards of wood sprayed around her. Y/N gasped for air. Every muscle burned and ached. Beyond her, a discordant choir of voices were hollering and calling out her name. She could see her leader's black cloak reach the shoreline. His strides paused upon hearing his crew's commotion.

'Dragon-sama!' she cried. 'Here! Right here!'

The Revolutionary turned. Every scrap of seafaring wind squealed in shock at what he saw.

'Help!' Y/N called out. 'He's hurt, please!'

The tides seemed rattled by the change in weather. A breaking wave shoved both Y/N and her unconscious friend forward. Out of her eye, she saw that stove pipe hat getting knocked about in the torrent. Wait-! Grabbing a nearby bar of flotsam wood, Y/N scrambled to hook the hat like a fish on a spear and fling it towards the shoreline. When the next wave hit, she transferred her limp friend's weight from her front to her back. When her feet finally touched the sand, she could race to Dragon's side and snatch Sabo's hat from him.

'We need to get a doctor, sir, right away.'

Dragon blinked. As he scanned the injured Sabo from head to toe, something shifted in his face.

'Y/N, do you know this boy?'

'Yessir,' No reason to lie to her leader. 'He and Luffy were bond brothers.' she glanced at her friend's face. Dripping in saltwater and blood. Everything within her ached. '...All he wanted was to be free.'

Her elder nodded. 'Very well. We can grant him that much.'

And that was the beginning. Or...maybe the end? Y/N never resumed her initial mission in Fuschia Village. When Dragon told her about her parent's fates in the fire, he formally dismissed her from active duty. She tried to press the issue, saying Luffy and Ace still needed her, but to that, he said:

'At least one of them has unlocked Conqueror's Haki. After this, neither should find much danger in the East Blue.'

Your job has been done for you. --He didn't say that last part, but she certainly heard it in his voice. Her mother always said, 'Spies are well versed in the art of subtext'.

Now, years later, come to find out, neither of her East Blue friends had ever been safe. From the moment Ace left Fuschia, he was dogged by an Ensign and then enslaved by a Yonko. Two Yonko, if Y/N's information network was to be believed. She found it hard once she got word that Ace was pursuing an exiled crewmate who'd turned around and murdered another in their ranks. That second Yonkou, Whitebeard - Ace wouldn't have done that if he didn't believe in the old geezer.

Then Luffy was chased to Paradise by an East Blue captain, where he proceeded to dethrone one of the Shichibukai! And several more after that! Hell, Luffy went all the way to Enies Lobby and fucking declared War on the World Government! The first time Y/N read that headline, she swore she nearly had an aneurysm. Meanwhile, Dragon was sitting at the head of the conference table fucking smirking about it. Little did she know things were only gonna get worse from there.

Ace was captured by the Marines.

Ace was sent to the deepest level of Impel Down.

Ace was revealed publicly to be the son of Gold Roger.

Ace was sentenced to be executed at Marineford.

A secret of the highest clearance has been exposed to the world - and Y/N wasn't there to keep him safe. Not like she promised. Not like she'd been tasked to do for as long as she could remember. Her orders were to 'guard them with your life'. ...And she hadn't done it.

The moment she heard the news of Ace's arrest, she raced to Dragon's office immediately. Requested reconnaissance, search and rescue, and any team fast enough to get him out of Impel Down before Luffy decided to pull a stupid and do it himself. Because he would. She knew he would. Because she still knew him, even after all these years.

Being a part of the Revolutionary Army, agents were forbidden from contacting anyone outside their trusted communications channels. Even passing on a message through her own communication network was considered a breach of conduct. Ace and Luffy probably didn't even know she was alive, or that Sabo was alive. But then again...Sabo didn't even know Ace and Luffy existed.

'Sir, if we don't act first, your son is gonna put himself in danger,' She remembered arguing with her leader. Something she never would've dared to do as a child. 'If he dies trying to break Roger's son out of Impel Down, then -'

'You are certain that will be his next course of action?'

'Of course, sir, Luffy and Ace are bond brothers. Same as he and Sabo. Luffy would drop everything to save his Naka-'

'Evidence serves to the contrary.'

'Are you kidding me?!' Dragon threw her a stern look. Y/N winced. 'A-all due respect, sir, but the whole reason Enies Lobby happened is because Luffy was looking to rescue a crewmate.'

'A crewmate who also happens to be a valuable asset,' Dragon noted. 'The last scholar of Ohara capable of reading the Poneglyphs.'

'That's not why he did it, and you know it.'

'Do I?'

You would, if you any spent time with your son. Y/N knew better than to say that retort out loud. Instead, she said: 'Sir, the first orders you ever gave me were to protect the secrets you'd hidden on Goa. Ace may no longer be a secret, but if we don't act, Luffy's cover will be blown, too.'

'Portgas D Ace has nothing to do with your orders.' Dragon said sternly. 'Your request is denied.'

'But Sir-!'

'Our mission is to free the people. Not one man,' The man's eyes were sharp as flint and harder than bedrock. 'Your request is denied, Y/N. Let. It. Go."

And he was right. Y/N hated to say it, or even to think it, if only to herself. But Dragon was right. The resources required to ensure success, either infiltrating Impel Down or foiling his transport to Marineford, would likely ruin their chances completely. If they were to fail, their forces would be wiped out. Their plans for the Reverie would be compromised. And the Revolution could not afford that...not even for the sake of her friend.

The Army's mission was to free the people. Not one man. Dragon was right. She knew. He told her to let it go, and she tried. Tried to fight other battles and go on other missions with Koala and Hack, and Sabo. -But she was off her game. Getting knocked by blades and bullets, she should've been able to dodge. Stealing more files from outposts than they'd actually need. Striking too hard and accidentally killing a few enemy soldiers. Something Hack most definitely disapproved of. Koala pinched her cheeks and tugged on her ears. Tying bandages too tight and making new bruises when Y/N scrambled for excuses. Hack even noted how he sensed her Chakras were out of balance or something.

But the worst part of it was Sabo. At team meetings, he would keep sneaking glances at her. Even when she stood on his left side, where he couldn't see, and his scar left no sign of any eyebrows furrowing in concern - she could still sense it from him. It was in the way he stood close enough to brush her shoulders in the hallway. Or the way he'd play with her fingers under the table. It had started out as a habit to help him sit still during class when they were little. But now, she knew it was a reassuring gesture. Something he did to reassure himself they were both okay. - Which meant he was picking up on the fact that she was not, in fact, okay. And that was a problem.

What she didn't expect what just how big of a problem it would grow to become.

It happened when she was going to Dragon's office, having just gussied up the courage to argue with him about this whole Ace debacle (again). She'd just bypassed Sabo and Koala in the officer's lobby, she caught hold of the whispers in the halls.

'Hey, check it out, the News Coo just arrived,'

'Eh, Hack-san, you better take a look at this,'

'Hm? New on the war, I presume.'

'Yea. It's finally over. The only reported casualties were Whitebeard, the Emporer, and -' Y/N's stomach twisted. '-Fire Fist Ace.'

Every drop of lifeblood in her body immediatley sank to the floor. Y/N's knees shook. The world spun around her. She couldn't think, could barely breathe. Y/N scrambled to clutch the nearest wall for support to keep her upright.

Ace, Ace, no- She gasped. Her eyes burned. Like she was drowning in salt water all over again. the corridor blurred around her. Only she wasn't in a hallway anymore. She was looking up from the bottom of the ocean as someone else's corpse floated above her. Corpses. Y/N clasped a hand over her mouth in an effort to contain her sobs. Ace, Luffy - oh, Luffy....

The headline staring her in the face was more than proof enough. That freckled face. That mane of tangled hair. That wicked smirk pressed ear to ear on the front page of the News Coo - that was him.

That's when she heard it.

A voice screamed - a howling cry of anguish and agony. Y/N's heart seized in her chest.

Sabo.

That's when it all went to shit.

***

Ahhh! This got way out of hand. I am so sorry, my dear but I'm afraid the epic conclusion to this swelling saga has become its own 3rd part. Please forgive my tardiness. I hope when this is all complete, you will find this story well worth the wait.

All the best,

Rose

#sabo x reader #sabo the revolutionary #one piece sabo #one piece #rosewolf writes #mugiwararosewolf #portgas d ace #ace one piece

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crusty-chronicles · 7 months

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Not So Bad (Hiei x Apprentice Reader)

Part 2

Part 1

Synopsis: You and Hiei finally manage to get along, though the process is a lot more awkward than you would expect it to be. However, the two of you realize the other isn't so bad after all.

★★★★

The first day had been incredibly awkward. You agreed to come, yes, but you still had no idea how to approach Hiei. You didn't know how to relax around him. To be honest, he still scared you some. Maybe a part of you thought this might've been a trap. A way to get rid of you once and for all.

Then again, the others had let you go.

They would never steer you into danger, right?

"Can you wield a weapon?" It was the first thing he asked once you reached what would be your training ground for the next few weeks.

"...Yes." You responded.

Making sure to pull out your small dagger, which in actuality looked a lot bigger in your grasp. It was still stained red from...well you didn't want to get into that right now.

Hiei gave a curt nod before ordering you to take a fighting stance. You did as he asked, albeit awkwardly. You still weren't sure about his true motives yet.

You didn't look like a warrior. Not at all like a demon capable of so much carnage. You were frail and weak. It temporarily had Hiei rethinking this whole thing.

But then he remembered the panic of losing you.

The feeling of his heart dropping when you weren't in the spot he left you.

Never again.

This was for your own good.

★★★★

Training went about as well as you would expect. With you fumbling with your weapon every time Hiei ordered you to strike. Tripping over your own feet and managing to hurt yourself on nothing. Turns out you weren't the best with dodging either. Almost getting slashed in half several times.

It was tiring for both you and Hiei. The latter's temper not helping the situation at all. He couldn't help but get frustrated with your incompetence. It reminded him of training Kuwabara for the Dark Tournament. And whereas that dope had some combat skills, you had none.

He tried not to snap at you, he really did. But by day three his patience had been completely worn down.

"Did you seriously run headfirst into my sword? It's like you want to die."

You froze at the comment. Body tensing up from the harshness of his words. You could never understand why he was always so mean to you. Even when he was trying to help you he was cruel. There was a brief moment you thought about calling it off. To have one of the others come get you so you'd never have to go through this again.

But that'd only prove his point, wouldn't it? To run home like a coward because you couldn't handle a taunt here and there. You were used to worse. You'd heard much worse. No, you'd tough it out. And maybe, just maybe if you were kind, he'd be the same way back.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to moving as fast as you," you mumbled.

The three eyed demon's expression softened. Right. You were still a kid. Despite what you were capable of, you were still very inexperienced. But you were trying.

You were trying to learn.

You were trying to get along with him.

He supposed it was only right he did the same. For his pride at least.

Hiei wasn't one for apologies, so instead you got a nod of acknowledgement. And later that night, he asked you about what it was like all those years trapped. It surprised you.

He didn't snap all that much after that.

There were times when he'd still lecture you for being careless, but you got used to his cranky personality.

'You could've been faster.'

'You missed your mark by a longshot. Your aim can't be that bad.'

'Don't be a fool and attack me when I'm guarded.'

Things he'd get mad about. And yet... There was always something prideful in his eye when you did something right.

Never a 'good job', but a hum of approval. Letting you have longer breaks. Actually holding a conversation with you. Things he'd never done before.

You came to realize he wasn't all that mean. Maybe emotionally constipated, but never cruel anymore. And as the weeks progressed, you were able to completely relax.

Smiling brightly occasionally. The way you did with the others. Hiei came to realize you weren't all that quiet. You were a little chatterbox when you were excited.

Pointing at plants and identifying them with pride.

"Kurama told me which ones were poisonous before I came out here. And he taught me how to make an antidote just in case."

And for whatever reason, this time Hiei indulged with you. Something akin to relief, or perhaps content, with the knowledge you weren't scared of talking to him anymore.

"Did he also tell you which ones to use in case you got injured?"

"Nope. But Yukina's teaching me how to heal with my spirit energy."

You seemed fond of his sister, having only known her for a short amount of time. Eyes growing soft as you talked about her. He supposed it couldn't be helped. You hadn't had friends since in a very long time.

He had no doubt it was only a matter of time before you made more. Perhaps that detective's girlfriend if he ever got around to introducing you two.

"Hey, Hiei?" You called out.

He gave a hum to show you had his attention. Eyes darting to you from his position atop a tree branch.

"What's that thing in your pocket?" You gestured towards the gem slipping out.

It was the makeshift necklace made from his hiruiseki stone. To be honest, Hiei forgot he even had it. Whether he kept it simply because it was his, or because it was sentimental in some way, he didn't remember. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter now.

Not when you looked at the gem with so much curiosity.

Damn you.

You were gonna make him soft like the others.

"You like it?" The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them.

Remembering the toy Yusuke had given you. The way it brought you comfort and made you happy. He'd asked you about why you cared so much for it. You going as far as making sure not a speck of dirt got on the plush.

Your answer: it wasn't the toy itself that brought you comfort, but who it came from.

It was special because Yusuke had given it to you.

Perhaps it would be the same for him.

"It looks cool, but what is it?" You tried again.

Hiei ignored the question for a second time.

"It's yours. Here."

He took the stone from his pocket and tossed it down to you. You only looked up at him in pure confusion. Not understanding why he wouldn't just tell you what this thing was. Why he had it in the first place. He didn't seem like the type to carry something this fancy around.

"But what is it?"

Sensing you weren't gonna drop it until he answered, Hiei begrudgingly gave in.

"A remedy of the past. I have no use for it anymore. It's served it's purpose."

"And what was that?"

"It reunited me with my sister."

The pin seemed to drop for you. A certain ice maiden had the same gem. And their eyes had always been so similar.

"Yukina doesn't know, does she?" You hesitantly asked, not sure if this was a sensitive subject.

"I plan to keep it that way." Perhaps it was.

"...I don't think she would mind if you told her. You're not so bad once we get to know you."

"You hated me." He argued.

"Because I thought you hated me first. And I didn't hate you. I was just a little scared. I mean, you did say to kill me." You explained.

"I already apologized...Now get back to training. Break's over."

Was that embarrassment in his tone?

You couldn't stop yourself from giggling at the revelation.

"I think I'm starting to understand now. You get all embarrassed so you act mean. But you're a big softie like everyone else."

"Softie, huh? Then why don't I make you train until the sun goes down." He snapped.

But as you continued to laugh, his expression softened.

★★★★

The five months seemed to fly by. With you improving exponentially every week. You were by no means a skilled fighter, but you were good enough. You could dodge a hell of a lot better than when you first started. You could even find a proper opening to attack now, though you preferred not to fight if you had a choice.

Safe to say the others were happy to have you back. With Kuwabara crying upon seeing you covered in small scrapes, and Yusuke carrying you and throwing you up a few times. Kurama was the last to greet you, making sure you really were okay.

It was only a matter of time before the routine of watching over you continued. Except this time, Hiei didn't mind when it was his turn. Even staying in the world of the living more than usual.

And it just so happened that on one of these days, you decided to test your luck. Along with the skills you've learned.

"Hiei?"

He looked down from the tree he was perched on.

"Hmm?"

"Can I come with you to demon world again? I promise I won't get scared this time."

His first instinct was to say no. After what happened last time, he didn't want to take any chances. You had some training now, but you were still too small.

Then he thought about it some more.

You would be glued to his side the entire time. He wouldn't let anything happen to you. And besides, you wanted to go. You didn't ask a lot of him, never did.

You finally trusted him.

"Fine, but don't slow me down. And don't wander far. Got that, little one?"

"Promise."

Seems you weren't so bad afterall.

★★★★

TAGS: @aiko-oba

An: Was this originally supposed to be a oneshot? Yes. But I kinda got lazy and split it into two parts, the second of which you're seeing now. Sorry about that. Buuuut, expect some more Hiei fics. When? Ain't got no clue. But they're coming. Also be expecting more Yu Yu hakusho fics in December to celebrate the live action coming out on netflix.

Am I gonna watch it?

Probably not because LOOK AT HOW THEY MASSACRED MY BOYS!!!!! Why is Kuwabara blonde!?!?! Names and addresses of whoever made Kurama's wig. Someone take the straightening iron away from him 😭😭. Ah and how could we forget one of the descriptors for Yusuke: His favorite food is ramen 😏

Not to be nitpicky but netflix doesn't have to best track record with Live Action adaptations. We can only hope it'll be good.

#hiei x reader #hiei yu yu hakusho #yu yu hakusho x reader #platonic #little reader #mentor hiei #father figure hiei????#i doubt his stubborn ass would accept that title #x reader #enemies to family 💀💀💀

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tiredpandaportfolio · 10 months

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More idle thoughts about how I write the Sparda boys.

Seems like these get received well, so here, let's do another round of various topics. Once again, these are nor definitive, they're just how I choose to write them, and other headcanons are just as valid as the definitive canon, we're all just having fun. Some of these are re-iterations of my older thoughts.

Anger

Anger is a common trait of the Sparda bloodline. They're pressure cookers, really. They just express it a little differently.

Dante probably has the best lid on his anger. He used to be short-tempered and aggressive when he was younger, a real powder keg and he made it everyone's problem. What happened on Temen-Ni-Gru got him to cool his jets, because he realised that his demonic powers were just making his temper worse and cost him dearly. He's mellowed out since and will let a lot of things slide before he really gets mad. Most of the time he'll just get irritated, which makes him extra snarky, at worst.

It takes very specific things to really anger him now. It starts small, crackles of demonic power visible on him and his eyes narrow. When pushed too far, an uglier facet of his personality emerges. He's petty and mean. Normally, he holds back but when angry, the filter is off and his words become cutting and harsh. He's an observant bastard so any weakness he perceives, he will attack, verbally or otherwise.

Down the road from mean lives the scary asshole, when he's been pushed too far. The demonic traits really pop up. His eyes flash red, his aura of rage is palpable even to mundane people and he sits at the very edge of shifting to a demonic form.

However, he will most likely walk away, unless he's dealing with someone really prepared to face the consequences and catch hands. He's quite brutal if he ends up fighting in an angry state. So he walks off, because otherwise, he's liable to do something he'll regret and he's got enough of those under his belt already. It can take him ages to cool off. He can be apologetic, if he thinks he was at fault, he's just terrible at expressing it.

Vergil, on the other hand, doesn't get angry. Instead, he's almost permanently irritated. He pretends that he's above getting angry, but honestly, he has very little patience and when he does get mad, he yells a lot (Exhibit A: "WHY ISN'T THIS WORKING!?").

To be fair, he's lost a lot of that edge since then and has a better control of the demonic instincts that stoke his anger, because he refuses to allow his temperament to be swayed... or so he says. Fact of the matter is, Vergil has next to no patience for anyone or anything, be it humans, weakness, challenges or everything else under the sun.

He is good at maintaining his facade of composure, even when he's screaming mad. His default setting is being curt, blunt and rude. He just doesn't care. He'll crush psyches and the will to live under a well-polished boot, if he has to. The angrier he gets, the more snide he becomes.

If he gets really angry, he'll devolve to shouting, but never turn vulgar. Vergil's rage isn't vocal, it's physical; he usually bottles everthing up and expresses sub-arctic coldness, while it's very rare to see him manifest demonic traits in anger. Most of the time one just feels his aura turn thicker, stiffling and oppressive. Anything more overt heralds your end. It's an achievement, making Vergil furious.

The biggest problem is that Vergil does not cool off easily and holds grudges forever. He's almost never apologetic for anything he says or does, regardless if it was done in anger or not. In his view, it's the other side that is at fault for pissing him off in the first place. He isn't beyond acknowledging his faults entirely, as he will be slightly sorry if someone he cares about gets caught in the crossfire.

And then there's Nero. Good grief, this kid. If Dante is the slow simmer and Vergil is the frozen aggression, Nero is a nitroglycerine bomb. Any little thing will set him off.

He'll shout and get extremely vulgar at the drop of a hat, even when just irritated. He wants to fight all the things. He's rude and snarky enough by default, but making him angry makes it so much worse. Sailors hvae nothing on him. He also gesticulates a lot when he's angry and most of it is rude.

And Nero gets angry on behalf of others. When someone he likes even marginally doesn’t get pissed off when Nero thinks they should (because he totally would), he gets angry instead.

It’s rather rare for him to manifest any demonic traits when he’s angry. Or at least, his default anger level, as bad as it seems, isn’t bad enough to set them off. When that does happens it means he’s been pushed beyond the threshold. Punches definitely get thrown, screaming happens.

He’s rarely sorry for getting angry and, like Vergil, holds very long grudges. It takes him forever to cool down after a big rage. He’ll be irritable for days. Rather amusingly, one good scolding from someone he cares about is enough to turn him quite sheepish.

Handwriting

Nero has, by far, the neatest handwriting of the three of them, because he actually got put through proper schooling thanks to the Order of the Sword and Fortuna's compulsory education. He hated it, but he was a decent student and actually learned cursive, of all things. He doesn't use it but it's helped shape his handwriting into something mostly legible.

On the other hand, both Dante and Vergil have atrocious handwriting. Dante's only marginally better because he's got to do paperwork that other people need to be able to read. His signature is very showy because aesthetics but again, it's hard to parse what he's actually writing. Vergil just writes like a demented doctor, his writing is close together, slanted and basically barely-legible scrawls. He insists it's calligraphy but deep down he knows his handwriting is shit and it irritates him.

Both Tess and Lady have commented that the twins "use pokers instead of pens to write."

Coffee

None of them is particularly coffee-mad, but neither will deny the energising effect of a good cup of joe. Nero drinks the most coffee out of all of them, and his taste runs towards a fairly strong double-shot espresso with next to not sugar that he quaffs like a nasty frathouse shot. If allowed he's capable to downing two of these in a sitting and spends the rest of the day absolutely wired which is a dangerous proposition at best.

Dante likes a good standard cup of coffee, with a little sugar but no creamer. He'll probably have one whenever he happens to wake up, just to shake the cobwebs off. He secretly also enjoys a nice Irish coffee if he can get it and doesn't mind indulging once in a while.

Vergil rarely drinks coffee, mostly because he's still in that mentality where he treats food as fuel and doesn't try too hard to enjoy it. He prefers the milder taste of tea but on ocassion is known to take some black and very strong filtered coffee as a means to reinvigorate himself. He does make the mistake of having it too late in the day, though, and that fucks with his sleep.

Food

The boys all have rather big appetites, it comes with demons requiring a lot of energy to be as powerful as they are, hence why most of demonic behavior is guided by hunger. As a rule of thumb, all three of them are more or less, carnivores. They will always favour something meat-related and need quantity.

Dante is, of course, a pizza fiend but he will never turn his nose up at any form barbecue, and it is never too late or too early for BBQ. He may not be a good cook, but Dante is a surprisingly decent grillmaster and with a few spices involved, he'll happily tear through metaphorical mountains of steaks, sausages and anything else that used to wander around and that you can throw on a grill. And he likes his meat dripping. Genrally speaking, you could put anything in front of him and so long as it's edible and you do so out of your good will, he will hoover it up and thank you.

Vergil has a tendency to treat food as fuel and sometimes he doesn’t even pay attention to what the hell he’s eating. And yet a times he’s a very, very picky eater. He's partial to meat but likes it well-cooked and perfectly cut. His favourite meat is actually chicken and he likes fairly simple cuisine, absolutely hates it when food is drowning in sauce. He might act hoity-toity but frankly, he blatantly likes burgers, the nastier the better. Just don't confront him about it. He's sort of expanding his palate slowly but hates being pressured about food. Eats a bit less than Dante or Nero, overall.

Nero is both "a growing demon teenager" and shaking off the often stifling, regimented life of the Order, so he’s dived head-first into a culinary world of madness. He'll try anything he hasn't had before. He actually hasn’t decided what his favorite food is, but right now he’s leaning towards high-texture and high-flavor stuff. Chinese takeout is becoming close to a favorite but honestly, he's almost hooked on junk food. He’s getting a little too obsessed with fried chicken these days but honestly his diet is so bad that he'd probably be dead if Kyrie wasn't there to force him to eat some normal food once in a while. He's very partial to pasta.

Alcohol

Dante can actually drink anything and everything. He’s a whiskey man to the bone, with a preference for Jack Daniels but will go for fancier stuff if he can get it. He won't turn down some quality beer, either, but doesn't care for posher stuff. His tolerance is ridiculous, his system just seems to metabolize alcohol really quickly. It takes a truly frightening amount of very strong alcohold just to get him disoriented. He recovers remarkably quickly though, and he thinks he's only ever been completely blasted once or twice in his life. He does get hangovers though, and doesn't much enjoy them.

Vergil is a complete lightweight. There is no way around it. He acts like he's above drinking, but he enjoys a good wine or brandy... though, he can only take so much before he starts reeling. This is a point of great frustration for him. He can survive anything demons throw at him but a little alcohol fucks him up?! He normally avoids excesses but sometimes he tries to drink more than he can handle, resulting in bad hangovers the next day. He’s a rather weird drunk, both grumpy and sleepy.

Nero is a beer lover. And not just any beer, nowadays. Nero has learned that there's much better beer to be found than any average booze in a can. He's discovered microbrews and fancy craft beers. He’s got a decent enough tolerance but nothing nearing Dante’s insane limits. He also doesn’t really like the feeling of being drunk so he never drinks that much. He cannot stand vodka or tequila, but he's curious and willing to try cocktails. He gets terrible hangovers.

#devil may cry #panda writes #headcanons #dmc #dmc headcanons #dmc dante #dmc nero #dmc vergil #headcanon

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undyingimbecile · 2 months

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Demon Slayer: Next Generation

In an alternate universe, where Muzan escaped before sunlight hit, some Hashira survived but ehere incapable of fighting, leading to themselves becoming trainers, while the young demon slayers became the new generation of Hashira.

But this story begins when another generation of Hashira is on the rise.

____

| | CAST | |

“Muzan Kibutsuji! No matter where you go, you're not getting away! I'll follow you to the ends of Hell, and I swear I'll slice your head with my blade! I'll never forgive you no matter what!”

- Kamado Tanjirou, Sun Hashira.

“Thank you, rest well.”

- Kamado Nezuko.

“Hiding won't make the sadness go away.”

- Agatsuma Zenitsu, Thunder Hashira.

“We’re comrades…And like brothers. So if someone starts to stray from the path, we all stop him. No matter how hard or painful it is, we walk the right path.”

- Hashibira Inosuke, Beast Hashira.

“Somehow I feel the people I care for and those important to me will still be alive tomorrow. But that's just my hope and there's no way I can promise that with any certainty. Why do people... believe such things?”

- Tsuyuri Kanao, Flower Hashira.

“Don't you dare. You never looked at me twice before I was like this, before I was broken. Now I'm just something for you to fix.”

- Shinazugawa Genya, Half-Demon Hashira.

“Compared to you guys, I'm not so important, so thanks aren't necessary. I survived selection due to pure luck. Since then I've been afraid to fight, so I'm a coward.”

- Kanzaki Aoi, Butterfly Mansions Main Nurse.

“We've been together since final selection,”

- Ikoma Murata, Water Hashira.

“Feel the rage, the powerful, pure rage of not being able to forgive will become your unswerving drive to take action.”

- Tomioka Giyuu, Former Water Hashira.

“Listen Up. I Am A God.”

- Uzui Tengen, Former Sound Hashira.

“If I may, Master...”

- Shinazugawa Sanemi, Former Wind Hashira.

“Death Awaits you. Muzan Kibutsuji.”

- Ubuyashiki Kiriya, Oyakata-Sama, Demon Slayer Corps Leader.

“The brighter the light, the deeper the shadow”

- Hoshizura Ankoku, Breath of Shadow.

“The seven virtues, chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, kindness, patience, and humility. I will free you of your sins, embrace the light.”

- Hikari Misato, Breath Of Virtues.

“The seven virtues my ass, more like the seven sins, Wrath, Greed, Sloth, Pride, Lust, Envy, and Gluttony. Suck it. Bitch.”

- Kage Inei, Breath of Sin.

“Beware the sweet melodies of the sirens; their beauty conceals their deadly nature.”

- Umihama Kei, Breath of Siren.

“Keep your face to the sun and you will never see the shadows that lie behind you.”

- Taiyo Etsu, Breath of Sun, Tanjiro Tsuguko.

“Love is the flower that you've got to let grow, and take time to be a butterfly”

- Hanabusa Cho, Breath of Insect and Hanabusa Akane, Breath of Flower, Kanao Tsugukos.

“If a man knows what harbour he seeks, then any wind is the right wind.”

- Igarashi Kuuki, Breath of Wind.

“The more brilliant the lightning, the more quicker it disappears.”

- Isoarashi Rai, Breath of Thunder, Zenitsu Tsuguko.

“I will protect my brother and sister, no matter what it takes.”

- Hirata Toshie, Breath of Reflection. Sister of Hirata Hayami and Hirata Asami, who both were turned into demons.

____

Main Character: Hirata Toshie

Breath Style: Breath of Reflection

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a-nonbody · 2 years

Text

Your beauty never scared me.

Masterlist October / Other Fics

Gyutaro x gn! reader

Notes: fluff Words: 796

kids being brats; siblings being siblings; Gyutaro being cute; Daki and Gyutaro have known the reader for a while;

------

It was night. But even in darkness, places like Yoshiwara were lit. Bright buildings were lighting the way, leading one from one to the other. Entertainment District.

Normally, innocent people like me would not be out during times like this. The others called me insane when I volunteered to go out and grab the things Warabihime asked for. But by now I knew the area like the back of my hand.

I knew where to go and where not to go during the night and day. Unlike the other people in the house, I did not have any sort of rank. Which confuses newcomers, but lucky me, our Oiran would quickly shut them up.

I was lucky enough to be able to withstand the Oiran's temper tantrums and anger, which made her like me even more. Like a little maid, I would grab the things she needs, and help her get dressed when the others were too stupid to do it right. And I was also able to scold her. Nothing big, but I needed to remind her, that she needs to act human. And humans eat. Most of the time it would just be us two or three in a room alone. The others think that during that time the Oiran is eating when most of the time it's just me eating and the other two talking about plans or what is going on.

By now when Daki ended up telling people she was hungry, it either meant, she was hungry in her demon ways, or there was something she needed to talk with me about.

But I had no clue what it was about this time. I only went out this time to mentally prepare for her childish needs and grabbed myself some food on the go.

When I came back, I did not think that I would be greeted by the siblings fighting. Luckily for them, the others had left.

I pushed the door open and went inside the room, where I was greeted by the two siblings being head-to-head yelling at each other. Something about a human escaping and Daki blaming her brother for it. It was not the first time things went down like this. That was the reason why I just stood there waiting after I closed the door.

"Can you both just be quiet for one second?" I asked. Not screaming at them like I normally would, too tired after the long day. Sometimes I had the feeling those two forgot that I am still human and needed sleep. When the siblings noticed me standing there, they stopped. Daki stuck out her tongue to her brother and left the room via another door, slamming that behind her.

I let out a sigh and sat down in the middle of the room, placing my food down and waiting for Gyutaro to do anything. The demon looked puzzled at the door his sister left a second ago, before also sitting down without a word.

"So," I started as I put food into my mouth," what happened this time?" "She is blaming me again for something she did." I looked at the boy in front of me who was avoiding my eyes. I stared at him which in return made him blush.

"And?" I asked trying to get out more information. But he only murmured something in return. Annoyed I put down the food and let out yet another sigh. For being demons as old as them, they were both still acting like children.

"Gyutaro, I can't hear you-" "They just called me an ugly freak again." "Who did?" "They."

Sometimes I wish I could ask for even more patience than I already hold when it comes to those two. But then it hit me. By now Daki had a small group of girls that knew about Gyutaro. She hoped that something good would come out of Gyutaro interacting with more humans, but instead those humans just bullied him.

I stood up from where I was sitting and went over to him. "Y/N!" he stuttered out as I sat down on his lap, making the poor boy blush even more if that was even possible. I took his face and made him look into my eyes.

One red and a lime green orb with yellow sclera looking at me in shock. "Don't you dare listen to those brats, do you hear me?" I said as I squished his face in my hands and kissed his forehead to which he let out a grunt. He mumbled out my name as I giggled.

I patted his head and kissed him even more to which an annoyed sound came out of him. No one is allowed to call my boy ugly. Not even his sister.

#reader insert #x reader #gn reader #fanfic #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #gyutaro #demon slayer gyutaro #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n

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misteria247 · 1 year

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*Throws down more of my insanity like a businessman once more*

So the brain rot has won this round once again so here's more of my bullshit contribution to the 2012 tmnt fandom. An unasked sequel to this post:

But now with the rest of the cast fight me-

April O'Neil, the daughter of a well known doctor in a small Japanese village in the countryside. April's a kind yet passionate girl who's childhood friends with Donnie and who was born and raised in the village. April's specialty is her uncanny ability to predict what people are thinking as well as making things float for brief periods of time. Despite her father's reputation as the village's best doctor, April is somewhat of an outcast amongst her fellow villagers. Due to some rather strange occurrences that's been known to happen around her, she's believed to be a seer or witch of some sort by some of the villagers. However there's far more to her gifts than she realizes, and a chance encounter with her best friend Donnie soon reveals all that she's been questioning.

Casey Jones, a ronin samurai who roams and challenges others all over the vast lands of Japan. Casey is a rather chill person who has a surprisingly short temper underneath his laid back personality. Casey's whole life has been nothing but wandering and roaming the Japanese landscapes and fighting any who dares to challenge him. Casey's specialty is his innovation in creating strange weapons from seemingly useless things and always having something possibly deadly up his sleeve. Casey is also a friend and somewhat rival to the ronin ninja assassin known as Raphael Hamato, and the two will occasionally work together on jobs as well as challenge one another when the mood strikes them. Casey while being fine with his lonely ways of the ronin lifestyle, has a craving for adventure to some degree and a fateful moment gives him the opportunity to fulfill his desires.

Mona Lisa, a goddess of war and protection. Mona Lisa is a timeless being, having been around since the very dawn of time. Much like the mischievous yokai Michelangelo Hamato, Mona Lisa is an immortal being who's specializes in the art of war and protection for warriors who've earned her attention and favor. Mona Lisa doesn't interact with others much, preferring to instead observe the mortals rather than partaking with them. However a certain red clad turtle has caught her eye and has unknowingly been granted her blessings in warfare and protections. With a few pulled strings perhaps she could officially meet this ronin ninja.....

Renet, a goddess of time and rebirth. Renet, much like Mona Lisa, is a being as old as time itself. Renet while a somewhat bubbly and awkward person, is also a goddess who's wise and all seeing in ways many could never predict. Being a goddess of time and rebirth, Renet specializes in the delicate threads that make up several timelines as well as handling the souls of those who have passed and deciding if they're worthy of being reborn once again. Renet is extremely close to a yokai known as Michelangelo, and might even fancy him in a more than friends way. Yet just like the prankster entity, Renet knows more than she let's on and may have even played a role in said yokai's knowledge of his brothers.......

Karai Oroku, a demoness who wanders the shadows of Japan, bringing dread and despair wherever she goes. Karai is the daughter of the mysterious and deadly demon lord whose known as the Shredder. Karai's a mischievous yet biting demoness who holds no patience for those she deems unworthy of her time and skill. Karai's specialty is the reaping of mortals and destruction of villages within Japan that her father deems to be a prime target of being wiped out. It's during this very thing that she runs into a monk whose skilled in expelling and exorcising demons and yokai. After clashing with the monk, a boy known as Leonardo Hamato, Karai has become somewhat interested in him. Perhaps he could be of some entertainment for her in the long run......

Tang Shen, a phantom name that very few remember in the old, ancient lands of Japan. Not much is known about Tang Shen, her origins are unknown or have been completely forgotten due to the sands of time. Records that remain of her describe her as either a demon or a goddess, who was supposedly married to the elusive enigma known as Splinter. However much like the being himself, Tang Shen also disappeared some thousand or so years ago and her current whereabouts are unknown.

The Shredder, a name whispered in fear or spoken about like an unholy curse in Japanese folklore. Shredder's origins, much like Tang Shen's, are completely unknown. The story of the demonic lord on the other hand is one that many people, such as shrine maidens, priestesses, monks and older Japanese folks know of. It is said that he is the bringer of death and destruction, a man who sold his soul to demons, consumed by his excessive need to conquer and destroy all that stands in his way. However the Shredder has been locked away, banished from the world. Or so that's how the legend goes.......

Splinter, another name spoken rarely in the ancient Japanese world. Not much is known about him, his origins, his personality, his features or even his whereabouts are all unknown. All that is known is that Splinter is said to be either a demon or god, an immortal being that has been gone for thousands of years. No one knows where he could be or if he's even among the living immortals anymore. Yet despite the little knowledge on him, four turtles and two humans are destined to look for him and perhaps even have their very destinies intertwined.

Lotus Blossom, a shrine maiden in a nearby village located near the ancient and vast Japanese mountains. Lotus is a powerful shrine maiden whose known for protecting magical artifacts and scrolls as well as purifying evil and unclean auras and curses. Lotus is a quiet yet fiesty woman who while somewhat naive is not to be underestimated lest the fool who does earns her wrath and righteous judgment. Lotus lives in a small village next to the mountains where Leonardo's temple resides on. Despite her somewhat peaceful existence, Lotus wishes to at least have some companionship. Being a shrine maiden can become quite lonely, given that the villagers tend to only come to her when they're in need of her abilities or healing. However one fateful moment sends her a possible friend in the least expected way.

Venus de Milo, an orphaned turtle girl who had lost her parents in one of the many Japanese wars of the ancient times. Venus is a chipper yet quiet child who can be incredibly stubborn and short tempered depending on the situation. Venus's specialty is strategic planning via for pranks or tricks. She lives in the temple in the mountains with the monks that reside there and she's taken quite a shine to the one monk known as Leonardo and will follow him around and ask that he plays with her much like the several other orphans who stay there as well.

Usagi Yojimbo, a ronin samurai whose sole mission is to defeat his sworn enemy and to bring vengeance to his family's home. Usagi is a rabbit samurai who roams the Japanese countryside in the hopes of bringing honor back to his name and to defeat the one who had brought said dishonor onto it. Usagi is a rather stern young man who doesn't really interact with others much. Preferring to instead focus on his mission and hone in his swordsmanship with each battle he faces. Usagi's specialty is his quick thinking and deadly swordsmanship. With his katana in hand Usagi is a deadly and dangerous samurai who shouldn't be taken lightly. Usagi has a rather great dislike towards ninjas due to a few run ins with them however his opinion may end up changing in the future....

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tsuki-sennin · 2 years

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Devilin' up the place is Revice Episode 39!

Not a whole lot to say other than I'm ready for some action!

Spoilers, I guess...

-"WORLDSTAR, WORLDSTAAAAR!"

-"Don't you dare give up your lives or your freedom!"

-Damn, Tasuke's passion is palpable.

-"We're going to kill that fuckin' Skygina!"

-Well, at least the people of Japan seem alright under the care of Weekend. ARARAT seems awful roomy for a shelter.

-"Let's go people!"

-Oh that's good, Hiromicchi's helping a lot.

-"Akaishi's like... the most obvious bad guy ever, why the hell is Daiji still there?"

-Man... seeing Daiji's mental state devolve into this holier-than-thou mess has been an interesting experience... though not exactly one I wish to witness again. ...at least, not as just a viewer.

-Does he even want to protect humanity at this point, or just prove that he's right? With Kagerou around, he was a lot more focused in his fighting style, and even he was totally willing to work with Ikki with just some simple curry bribery.

A lot to think about.

-Kamen Rider Revice, the latest internet meme.

-"I almost died last episode! ...anyways, wanna go to a cool hot spring when Daiji comes home?"

-Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, shit! Ikki's memories!

-Man...

-What a

-...Ikki, honey, Giff murders people without even blinking, I don't think peaceful resolution is an option.

-"Heeeeeeeeeey, it's me, your Other Dad. Would you mind letting me borrow that body?"

-Both single.

-Ooooooookay, that's creepy.

-Masumi's got that old man cough.

-What's in the case, George?

-Oh, so Tasuke and Kimiko are Hikaru's parents?

-"Those Weekenders are nothing but dirty lying bastards! We must surrender to Make Humanity Great Again!"

-...y'know, delving into Hikaru's relationship with his creepy-ass parents would've been a really neat thing to do.

-Jesus Christ man, that's... well, I only assume you were married at some point, but what the hell!? He can't just ditch his mom like that!

-Ohhhhhhh, shit!

-Okay, I know that Kimiko and Hikaru aren't exactly the most developed characters, but Kimiko was part of the cast from basically the first episode, so it makes me kinda sad to see somebody who's been part of the show for so long in that kinda state. And Hikaru calling out to her in sadness and desperation too, it's weirdly moving.

-C'mon Daiji, get your shit together.

-Man, Hikaru's really going through it.

-I wonder... was Hikaru orphaned by the Deadmans/Fenix and thus treated Kimiko and Tasuke as his own family?

-Man... uh, hey, buddy? About all that stuff I said about your character feeling undercooked? I didn't mean that as an insult, I like you and want to see you grow with all your friends here. I'm sure that's how Sakura feels, and how Kimiko-san felt!

-Man... Tomoya Oku's good at crying.

-Oh hey, Hiromi!

-Ohhhhh, the Drivers are here!

-Don't rub it in, George!

-...well, at least you apologized.

-"Consider this my acknowledgement of your apology."

-Man... Akaishi's mockery is very well done, but like... ough, I wanna slug him in the face.

-Fuck, dude.

-I see Tamaki-kun's taking Kimiko's death pretty roughly too.

-Ohhhhhhh, fuck!

-He's leading the demons!?

-Ohhhhhhhhhhh, shit!

-Yep, Daiji's officially reached his breaking point.

-Ohhhhhhhhhh, fuck

-Oh no

-Fuck, man

-Man, I was so excited to see Holy Live for the first time.

-...its angel/crusader motif has taken really horrifying overtones now.

-"No fighting! >:("

-Aaaaaaand, there goes Hana-chan!

-Daiji is Justice and Justice Alone.

-Wow, Sakura's just really goin' at it.

-He may be fully devoted to Justice. ...but evidently, his sense of Hope, Patience, Temperance, and Prudence have taken a real hit with his emotional and mental breakdown.

-OHHHHH HE BROUGHT OUT HIS REAL-ASS FUCKIN GUN

-We're having a real family moment next episode. And I don't think my weary heart can take it. ...think I'm gonna watch those two Delicious Party episodes I missed later tonight. Y'know, give myself time to process and relax.

#kr revice #revice spoilers #revive the vice: imprinted like stamps and fossils #kamen rider revice #kamen rider #i'm sorry if i messed some things up with my speculation i was very disjointed

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twilight-orchid · 3 years

Text

How the Undatebales React After A Fight

Thank you to my friendo @wholelottatiffy who helped me brainstorm this one. I’m only on chapter 19 at the moment, so I haven’t interacted with anyone but Diavolo much. And thank you to everyone who wanted a follow up to my previous post, I did not expect that. Y’all are super sweet!

tw: Fighting (a bit more in depth than my first post), description of panic attack, minor name calling, insecurity, depression, angst with resolution.

Diavolo:

Diavolo doesn’t know what to do with himself.

To start, we need to talk about how the argument unfolds.

He’s not used to arguing.

He’s Lord Diavolo, Prince of The Devildom, head of the RAD student council. No one defys him on anything.

So you raising your voice at him, trying to get him to see your way,

It was very overwhelming.

He tried to reason calmly with you at first, but he felt cornered.

When fight or flight kicked in, his body chose fight.

His wings burst open in all their glory as he screamed back, his towering frame far more intimidating than yours.

The blind rage is slapped out of him when he sees your terrified face.

If you’re at the castle, he’ll order you to leave if you haven’t already. Anywhere else, he’ll turn and leave without a word.

He wants to put distance between you both for fear of making things worse.

He absolutely cannot believe he just blew up at you. He would have never thought he'd raise his voice at his partner regardless of the situation.

He can’t shake the image of you flinching from him from his mind.

Now, being the prince of hell certainty has it’s perks; He has power, influence, and everything he could want.

But the one thing he wants the most seems to evade him no matter what: a friend.

A real friend.

He has Barbatos and Lucifer, but it’s Barbatos’ job to accompany the prince, and Lucifer is bound to Diavolo whether he likes the future king or not.

MC was the first person who chooses to be with and around him for no other reason than the fact that they love him.

And now he’s terrified them. Gotten in their face and screamed at them.

He assumes he’s permanently driven you away.

As soon as you leave or he gets home, he rushes to find Barbatos. To explain what happened and hope his butler would know what to do.

He’ll text Lucifer and ask him to check on you as well.

He just feels lost.

He wanders the palace aimlessly and he can’t focus on his work without his thoughts drifting to you.

He doesn’t feel like going to school or even getting out of bed. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone - to put on a happy face and pretend his world isn’t shaking.

Yet, a prince has his responsibilities. He will go about his normal public appearances as usual, smile and laugh and carry on, but it’s a mask.

Those close to him clearly notice the prince isn’t himself.

After school he visits the spots that you two visit together frequently.

Anything to make him feel as if you are still at his side.

If you don’t sleep in his bed that night, he’ll take it as proof that he was right and that you don’t want to be with him anymore.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He clutches your pillow that still smells of you and just bawls.

He will tell Barbatos he feels unwell the next morning and to postpone his obligations for the day.

This prompts Barbatos to seek you out and see if he can help resolve the issue.

Barbatos tries to stay out of your relationship as he doesn't feel it's his business, but his job is to assist Diabolo in any way necessary. And right now, he needs you more than anything.

If you sleep at his side still, it will be a glimmer a hope. That all may not be lost.

He’ll give you you space that night. He’ll walk around you on eggshells but always watch you from the corner of his eye to gauge the temperature.

He avoids your gaze, stays on the other side of the room as you prepare for bed, and as much as it kills him, doesn’t hug you or kiss you goodnight.

He spends the night staring at your sleeping face and making silent promises that, if you forgive him, he will never let this happen again.

He thinks of how to apologize. What he could say, what he could do.

Ultimately though, it feels like everything he could think of is too little of an apology.

He pretends to be asleep when he sees you stir and decides to let you choose if you want to forgive him on your own.

You will have to approach him first.

He thinks losing his temper with you was unacceptable and feels like he has no right to ask for your forgiveness.

Worse, he’s terrified of not being given forgiveness.

Thus, I feel a fight with Diavolo will take as long as you let it. He’s willing to suffer as long as you need him to.

Barbatos:

Barbatos doesn’t argue. He sits quietly and watches you, his responses calm but absolute.

He’s no pushover, he will defend his side, but he’s not going to enter a screaming match. It’s just not him.

You know you’ve really gotten under his skin when he offers a tight, forcefully pleasant smile.

He finally shuts down the conflict with "It's your right to feel that way just as it's mine to disagree." And leave it at that.

Post argument, he will avoid you and lock his feelings about the fight inside.

He tells himself he doesn’t have time to deal with the terrible feeling clawing at his heart and takes to his duties as an escape.

If you sleep in another room, he realizes that this isn’t a minor disagreement and he’s suddenly very distressed.

His instinct is to use his future vision.

To scour the timelines and see how the different versions of himself handle it and to replicate the one with the most desirable outcome.

However, he stops himself. He feels it isn’t fair to you.

You have a right to be upset about things and he doesn’t want to manipulate the situation, and by extension, you.

Thus, he must find another way to cope.

He’s always a devoted butler, but it’s not his whole life.

He takes time for himself throughout the day and in the evenings. Unless Diavolo needs him, nights are usually his to do with as he wants.

Now, however, his identity becomes Diavolo’s butler.

He’s constantly asking for extra work and hovering more than usual around the young lord in hopes of being given a task.

Diavolo finds it odd and asks about it, but he brushes it off. This isn’t anyone else’s business, least of all his employer’s.

Even though Barbatos won’t tell him, Diavolo can clearly tell his friend is off.

In hopes of giving him something to distract himself with, Diavolo requests hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies and Barbatos jumps on the opportunity.

Baking has always been his escape as well as his happy place. Diavolo’s favorite isn’t easy to make, so he looked forward to the task.

And it worked. Keeping track of the ingredients, the steps, and the technique required was enough to occupy his mind.

But then it was time to wait for it to bake.

He suddenly feels trapped in the suffocating silence of the kitchen.

His mind replays the argument on repeat as he falls down a rabbit hole of what ifs.

He loves you more than anything and the last thing he could ever want is for you to be mad at him.

No, the worst thing would to no longer be able to call you his.

Suddenly, he becomes aware of the sharp scent of burnt food.

He jumps up and runs to the oven. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the timer go off.

He pulls the blackened desert out, puts the cookie sheet on the stove top, and just stares at the burnt cookies.

His sight blurs and a soft sob escapes from the prison he’s created in his heart.

He wasn’t crying because he burnt the cookies, but because they were a visual representation of everything he’s been trying to suppress.

Once he collects himself, he knows he can’t continue like this.

He doesn’t want to invade your space in case you’re still mad, but he needs a resolution.

He’ll send a quick text and silently begs you to respond.

“MC, I understand if you are still upset with me, but would you be willing to talk though it? I look forward to hearing from you.”

If you still sleep with him that night, it is a great weight off of his shoulders.

He hopes it means that it will be easier to make up with you and that you aren’t too mad.

When you wake up, he will be watching you like he has all night with a small, tired smile.

He’ll put on your favorite tea as you get ready for the day then asks if you’d be willing to talk things over.

Because of how it affects both his job and himself, a fight with Barbados will not last long. He’ll seek a resolution by one, maybe two days tops.

Solomon:

Lucifer may be the avatar of pride, but Solomon can certainly give the demon a run for his money.

In the moment of a particularly heated argument, he absolutely will not admit he’s wrong.

In fact, he really doesn’t consider it a possibility.

There’s no point in trying to get him to see your side until things have calmed down. It’s like talking to a brick wall.

He won’t yell, but he gets a pissy, condescending tone and almost talks down to you.

If you really push his buttons, his patience with this “useless” argument runs out.

“Oh please, listen to yourself! You’re acting like a dull child!”

Freezes as soon as it leaves his mouth.

He didn’t mean to say that.

He opens his mouth to apologize immediately, but upon seeing your hurt reaction he becomes flustered and can’t get the words out.

He’ll simply turn and leave.

He’s absolutely furious with himself.

Solomon is old and wise. He’s seen many things, been many places, and he knows many things.

Sometimes though, he needs a reminder that he doesn’t know everything.

Even if he still feels he was right, he knows name-calling is unacceptable.

In fact, he doesn’t miss the irony that he was the one being childish.

His self-fury is replaced by overwhelming worry if you sleep in another room that night.

Of all the treasures he’s come across, none were as precious as you.

He can’t stand the thought of losing you because of his thoughtlessness.

For once, he feels like an idiot.

He locks himself in his study that night and brainstorms on how to make it up to you.

He decides to approach you in the morning at RAD. He’s terrified that you think he actually meant the insult and wants to clear the air as soon as possible.

He’s afraid of you taking anything less than his highest praise to heart or for you to think that he views you as below himself.

The thought of how he must have made you feel makes him sick to his stomach.

The more he thinks about it, the more his body demands that he act.

While he has many virtues, patience is not high on his list.

Assuming you returned to The House of Lamentation that night, he’ll text Asmo to explain what happened and asks if he’d let him in first thing in the morning.

Thus, when you leave to head for breakfast, be careful not to trip over your sorcerer who’s seated against the wall outside of your room.

He scrambles to his feet, his hair and clothes a mess and bags heavy under his eyes.

“MC! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just- *sighs* I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Would you be willing to discuss the matter again? The right way this time.”

If you do sleep with him, he’s at least relieved that you don’t seem like you plan to leave him.

Once again, however, he wants to clear the air as soon as he can.

You’ll both be sitting in silence as you get ready for bed. He’s clearly lost in thought, his eyes focused unblinking on his feet and any movements slow and disjointed.

He's not sure how to apologize, if it's too soon, and is afraid to make things worse if it's not an appropriate time.

However, seeing you move about the room he decides to risk it so he doesn't risk losing you.

Suddenly, he stands up straight and locks eyes with you.

“MC, we don’t have to talk about the fight tonight, but I need you to know that I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry.”

It’s up to you if you want to forgive him immediately, but he will at least apologize for the insult as soon as he gathers his thoughts.

Simeon:

If you yell at him, Simeon is just gonna sit there stunned

Your relationship is usually as laid back as he is, so he doesn't know what to do with you blowing up at him.

All he knows it that this is bad and he needs to find a way to make you happy again.

The thought of losing you takes precedence over everything and, though he will not sway to your side just because you’re upset, the argument loses any worth it had to him.

He’ll go to Solomon almost immediately in hopes your fellow human might know better about how arguments are resolved between human couples.

He becomes very distressed when Solomon says everyone handles it differently. He then asks what he should to make up with you specifically.

He doesn't have a defined emotion right now, he's just on edge. He wants to gather information first and foremost so he can figure out what to do from there.

He’s just a walking ball of anxiety and those close to the angel even become concerned. No one has seen him like this before.

If you decide to sleep in another room, the anxiety just takes over.

His chest feels like fiery chains are crushing his ribs, he can hear his heart is hammering in his head, and his body begins to shake as if he were buried in an avalanche.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying as he struggles to breathe.

Solomon had expected something like this may happen so he made sure to be nearby to help coach him though it.

Once he’s calmed down, Solomon urges him to talk to you as soon as possible.

Simeon isn't sure though. True, he wasn't in a good place, but he didn't want to push you if you weren't ready to talk.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t feel like he can think let alone coherently tell you how he feels.

He begins to feel overwhelmed again and decides to try writing down his thoughts in hopes of it helping him sort through the tsunami of emotions consuming him.

While it doesn't completely calm him down, it does help.

He stares down at the messy, tear blotted papee and has an idea.

The next morning you should expect to find a hand-written letter slipped under you door.

The letter is long and and rambling. His usually pristine handwriting is as shaky as his hands were when writing it.

It's not as dense and heartbroken as his original one, but the further it goes the more desperate his words become.

He writes about how much you mean to him and apologizes for allowing things to get that intense. He writes that he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you.

He reminisces about his favorite memories of you two together more than once.

Finally, that no disagreement you two could ever have is more importantly to him than being with you.

It's really just a collection of everything sitting on his heart at the moment.

That day at RAD he’ll watch you from the sidelines and pray you approach him about the letter so you two can work things out.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’ll be very conflicted about if he should approach you yet.

He’s afraid of making it worse if you’re still mad.

However, Simeon is an open book when it comes to his emotions so you will absolutely be able to tell that he’s freaking out.

So please, save the man a terrible night and talk it though with him.

He wants you to not be angry anymore, but even if you’re still upset just having concrete information to cling to will help him immensely.

He’s thinking of all the worst case scenarios and needs reassurance that the relationship isn’t over.

Simeon will try to make up within a day, so however long it lasts after that is up to you.

Luke (MC is his best friend):

Luke will be very, very distressed.

You’re his best friend aside from Simeon. Friends don’t fight like this, right?

Wait, so if you’re fighting with him, does that mean you’re not his friend anymore???

As soon as the thought enters his mind, he decides that must be the case.

Real friends don’t fight with each other like this.

Externally he takes a “I don’t need a lousy human like you for a friend anyway” attitude.

He’s not just testy with you though, anyone who interacts with him that day learns that chihuahuas bite.

Simeon immediately realizes something isn’t right and is very concerned.

As soon as he asks him what’s wrong, Luke's mask of anger is discarded and he tosses himself in the older angel’s arms crying hysterically.

He doesn’t want to lose you for a friend.

I doubt Luke has ever truly argued with someone so this uncharted territory is earth shattering to him.

Simeon, as he tries to calm Luke, he will text you and ask you to come to wherever they are immediately.

Because of Simeon’s intervention, the fight will only go undiscussed for a few hours max.

Again, sorry if I don’t know these characters as well as I’d like yet. Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obeyme #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #Obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #obey me luke #obey me undateables #obey me headcanons

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obeiii-mee · 3 years

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Hello! Can I request an hc about a shady MC who's not phase by anything in Devildom with the brothers (and Diavolo?? he deserves love!!!)? Like, when Luci's like "i CaN KiLL yOu hUmAN", MC's reaction was like "Oh... congratulations then." i need more shady mc who may or may not be planning to ruin your life😂😂 Thanks and take care!!❤❤

The Brothers + Diavolo with an MC that is not phased by DevilDom

__________________________________

Pls I need more shady MC, they would not take any shit from the brothers. Put any Gen Z-er with these guys and you’ve got yourself a suicidal and reckless human exchange student.

They wouldn’t know what to do with one of those ahaksbakanhaka you’re right, Diavolo deserves all the love >:(((((((

You better take care too >:( thanks for sending me this big brain request. I’ve been preoccupied with other projects so I took a while to get to this ask. Hope you’re doing OK💙

____________________________________

Lucifer:

-He thought having a human exchange student was going to be bad enough as it is but this…..this was so much worse than he could have ever imagined

-The moment you arrived, he already knew you were going to be a problem child and a persistent one at that

-Literally the first thing you asked him was : “Why do you look like an off-brand Levi Ackerman?”

-And he was left there, astounded, confused and offended because he had no idea who you were talking about (cuz at that point you hadn’t met the third eldest) and the tone you had was, frankly, pissing him off

-You kept wondering off on your own????? Without looking like you gave a shit even though you almost walked into a butcher’s shop that specialises in human meat???? Tf MC?

-Also really irritated that you couldn’t be intimidated and that DevilDom was like a playground to you, for some reason? Like, MC get out of the fiery pits of eternally tormented souls- this is Hell, not the McDonald’s ball pit ffs

-Things did not improve for him lmao, by the end of the first week he had already ripped out a good chunk of his hair because of you

-“MC, you should know by now provoking demons like this for no good reason is only going to make life harder for you. Keep this up and you’ll get killed in no time because of your behaviour.”

-“Great, can we have a hip-hip and a hurray?”

-In the span of one day, he’s had to come to your rescue six times (approximately) because you’re too nonchalant about your surroundings around literal creatures of hell

-He doesn’t have enough coffee or will to live for this bs

-“Lucifer, I found this dead plant and brought it here because it reminded me of you.”

-“…..sigh. Why? Why does it remind you of me?”

-“Because it’s cold and unresponsive.”

-He made the consecutive decision to ignore you

-(low-key kept the plant tho)

-Honestly, you get on his nerves a lot and he has definitely contemplated killing you in the past but at the end of the day he really can’t bring himself to do it

-We both know he tried a few times lmfao

-“I will tear you limb from limb, human-“

-“Can I finish my tea first.”

-“You…wait, what?”

-“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting this tea get cold. Try to kill time before I’m done and I’ll smash this cup against your head.”

-If you try hard enough, you might even elicit a laugh out of him, especially if your shadiness is directed at any of his brother which results in him patting your head affectionately

-Nowadays he’s just concerned because you seemed to have made an alliance of sorts with Belphagour and Satan and that’s not a good sign

-For his sake, if not yours, at least try to survive the year without getting chomped on by a random demon please

-He’s too stubborn to let you die just because you’re unbothered by everything so cut him some slack and help out damn it

Mammon:

-“Oi Lucifer, how come I’m stuck babysittin’ this stupid human?”

-“And how come I’m stuck with this asshole for a tour guide, with his fake ass designer shoes and no brand sunglasses. That’s a lot of smack talk from someone with crow shit stains covering the back of his jacket. Also, did you stick your hair in a bucket of mayonnaise?”

-……..

-He was so offended lol

-Normally, humans like you cower in fear whenever demons are as much as mentioned because of the whole “I can eat you whole” thing

-And here you are; insulting the Avatar of Greed and one of the princes of Hell himself just because you didn’t like his attitude

-Don’t worry tho, he warms up to you in less than a fucking month simply because you still come to his rescue whenever his brothers start insulting him and wow, look at that, his heart is now combusting on the floor

-“Y’all have no right to criticise Mammon when he has the most self control out of all of you.”

-“Since when does Mammon have any self control? He can’t keep himself from nicking anything that looks shiny.”

-“Motherfucker, I don’t see him trying to choke me to death, respectfully pls shut the fuck up. I don’t want to say I have favourites but if I do, it’s definitely him.”

-While Mammon’s in the background, with hearts instead of pupils in his eyes like ❤️👄❤️

-He doesn’t even mind running around after you anymore (will still complain about it though because your ass is in constant danger and he’s had enough)

-Honestly, you keep starting shit with random demons, some of which are quite powerful mind you, and you don’t back down even when he’s there to step in

-Would low key love to watch you fight one of your classmates at RAD and organise a ticket selling booth for the event but Lucifer will hang him a new one if he does

-So for now, he sticks to baring his teeth at the aggravator in question and you’re there, giving the same demon the middle finger

-The way you sometimes match his energy gets him so hyped up lmao

-“Mammon, did you steal Levi’s money again?”

-“T’s none of her business human. Now go away, shoo!”

-“Bitch, don’t ‘shoo’ me, I ain’t a bird. Now tell me, did you?”

-“…..Why do you ask?”

-“Because a new flavour of instant noodles just got announced, called ‘Super Hell-Sauce Flavour’ and I thought you might be more interested in that than wasting the money on gambling.”

-“….ok but only if you come with me to buy some.”

-This…this is true love right here

Levi:

-Oh no, now there’s two of you

-Why do I feel like his energy would match MC’s almost immediately? Maybe it’s because he spends too much time in his room on the internet like the rest of us do

-“What do you want, you stupid normie?”

-“300…..”

-“….300 what?”

-“300 mangas collected, thousands of episodes of anime watched, over 60 character figurines, plushies, body pillows, merchandise and several posters only to be called a fucking normie by a demon weeb that’s only known me for 10 minutes.”

-Boom, instant friendship

-He becomes attached to you almost immediately and now that he knows how unphased you are by DevilDom, he is seriously worried

-Hell, you’re making him consider going outside his room just to make sure you’re alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere because you decided to get on someone’s nerves that particular day

-Even during the quiz thing, when he almost kills you, you’re just sitting on the floor and awkwardly watching him as he throws a sissy fit

-Levi feels sort of conflicted with you because one one hand you’re good company and he loves having you around, you’re his Henry after all

-But on the other hand, you put yourself in so much danger it makes him paranoid so often to the point where he wants to keep you locked in his room and wrapped in bubble wrap

-Nearly had a heart attack when you almost walked right into a pit of lava like MC???? This isn’t one of his video games???? You’re not gonna respawn if you die????

-Besides all that, he gets a bit jealous of you confidence and your ability to just do whatever without fearing death or consequence

-“MC, how do you do it?”

-“Do what?”

-“How do you go about your life without a care in the world?”

-“I guess I’ll tell you my secret Levi. I’m not like other humans that’s why, I’m just so unique I do things differently.”

-“You sound like a pick me-“

-As long as you’re OK and not injured because of your carelessness, he’s indifferent about your behaviour and will even applaud you for your bravery when it comes to this sort of thing

-“lmao the human exchange student just dumped Solomon’s cooking in the trash while looking him dead in the eye 💀💀💀”

Satan:

-Your attitude towards DevilDom and demons in general kept him entertained, if nothing else

-You rarely seemed to consider how much of a threat that place really is and usually you were just running around, completely ignoring Lucifer’s rules and doing your own thing

-Which, you know, he’s all about

-I can’t say there were no incidents between the two of you

-With his short temper and your tendency to say things without caring about the consequences, there were definitely moments when he might’ve snapped on you

-“MC for goodness sake, what happened to my room?”

-“What do you mean?”

-“It’s an absolute mess! I just told you to bring me my spells and curses book, not mow through everything!”

-“It’s not my fault this place is built like a fucking labyrinth. You should be grateful I went to get it for you at all, I almost tripped and died several times on my way back. Also, you should get a new ladder for your shelves. It did the broken.”

-“MC….”

-“Yes?”

-“You are so lucky I love you.”

-Other than the fact his anger takes over him when things like these happen, he not so subtly encourages you to keep going because seeing Lucifer scowl at your antics gets him wheezing his lungs out

-I like to think Satan would be very impressed, even in the beginning, at the amount of nonchalance you can radiate at times

-I mean, you sure as hell don’t see it often and he loves how unpredictable you are more often than not

-If anything, he should probably thank you-idk how, but his patience has increased significantly every since you got here and he appreciates having some more control of his emotions

-“I’m gonna go put oil in Lucifer’s shoes.”

-“Do you have a death wish?”

-“Satan, I am old enough to make my own decisions and I concluded that this action is necessary.”

-“Necessary for what?”

-“Raising everyone’s morale! All of you seemed to feel down lately so I thought this would be fun for everybody!”

-“Except Lucifer, right?”

-“Except Lucifer. He grounded me from my D.D.D like I’m a fucking teenager who needs to be supervised-pssshht, I’m the most responsible one here.”

-“Yes clearly.”

-“Goodbye dear Satan, I may die today. But it’s for the greater good! (Dramatic exit with sound effects)”

-“WAIT MC!”

-“(pops head back in) yes?”

-“May I offer you my assistance?”

-You’re basically taking turns pranking his brothers and it’s hilarious

-Satan is not too worried about your well being simply because he knows his siblings and him are always going to be nearby to save you if you pull something stupid again

-Even so, he checks up on you throughout the day; just to make sure

-“Where were you?”

-“Running from a bunch of demons. Who wanted to go munchy crunchy on me, I assume.”

-“……”

-“Either that or people here are a lot friendlier than originally expected.”

-You can be such a handful and it really tests him, especially when he’s angry enough to begin with

-But despite your amazing talent at either getting completely lost around Hell, purposely walking into a prohibited place just because you felt like it or riling up others with how blunt you are, he still cares about you deeply

-You may be a pain the ass, but you’re his pain in the ass <3

Asmo:

-He should’ve known something was up with this particular human when you stood there, completely calm and collected, while Beel salivated at the thought of eating you on your first day

-Asmo just brushed it off for a while but it kept happening???

-The first time Lucifer ever told you off, you really went and said “Or what? Are you going to eat me? If so, you can go ahead and start with-“

-He came to your rescue and covered your mouth before you got to finish and before Lucifer unleashed his wrath on to everyone in that house

-“OOPSIE! I think MC has been spending too much time with me. Sorry Lucifer, we gotta run now! We have a party to attend, don’t we MC darling?”

-“You mean the one hosted by the guy that tried to kill me because I shoved into him on the hallway at school and then proceeded to tell him to go fuck himself right back into whatever hell hole he was born in before you came and charmed our way out of it?”

-“Yes.”

-“Ah OK. “

-You’re tiring for sure but you’re not exactly unlikeable

-You have a certain charm hanging about you that Asmo loves

-“I almost died like…30 minutes ago.”

-“WAIT WHAT?? WHY?? WHAT HAPPENED-MC ARE YOU OK???”

-“Yeah, I almost drank some poison today because someone told me it was water. It smelt off though so I didn’t.”

-“….”

-“Anyway, I got you this bracelet on my way home.”

-He really does wish you would take things a bit more seriously

-This is your life on the line, you know? What would he do if you died?

-“MC, you’re not immortal, you can die so much more easily than I can, you know that right???”

-“I don’t care.”

-“Well I do! And you should too….”

-A lot of people don’t see past his vanity tbh, because he can be such a caring person towards the people he loves

-The amount of videos he has of you appearing to be completely calm while pure chaos is descending in the background is pretty impressive

-Every time he uses his charm on you to try and get you to commit his sin, it just doesn’t work???? For some reason???? And even if it’s just with simple, innocent affection for now, he is determined to tempt you into it

-“MC~gimme a hug!”

-“But that’s social interaction and I don’t support it- do you have a charger for my D.D.D by any chance?

-Or at least die trying to ig

-Asmo loves having you around but you’re giving him wrinkles and that’s not okay >:(

Beel:

-The moment he realised how carefree you actually were, he sort of started checking up with you quite frequently throughout the day

-It’s his way of protecting you but if he could, he would follow you around all the time

-Becomes your body guard because you may not care enough about your safety but he certainly does so get ready to be carried everywhere

-You will not get hurt nor will anyone mess with you if he has a say in it and let me tell you, he does

-Thing is, his brothers mostly know him for being slightly dense in some aspects of day to day life

-He’s not perceptive of things that don’t involve food or his loved ones

-And because you most definitely are a loved one of his, he does notice how careless you are really often

-And it scares, rather worries, him because DevilDom is an incredibly dangerous place-even with all the precautions they had taken when you came

-“MC get down, you could fall.”

-“But Beel, look-I’m finally taller than everyone else! Taller than you even! Hey, should I do a backflip?”

-He has no idea why you thought jumping from 60 meter high cliff into a small river of squashed demon blood was a good idea but he wasn’t going to risk anything just because you felt like showing off your diving skills

-Proceeds to carry you away, completely unfazed

-In this case, I feel like Beel is not someone who gets bothered by the horrible things happening around there either

-As long as he has food and his family is safe and happy then he’s also happy, as mentioned above

-But he knows he’s alright with DevilDom because he’s been living here for centuries now

-A bit curious as to why you’re so unbothered

-And even more curious as to why you weren’t terrified of him transforming in his demon form after he lost control when he found out you ate his pudding

-Or more like Mammon did and pushed the blame on you

-“YOU. ATE. MY. PUDDING!”

-“Beel I love you but if you did not just see Mammon shoving the damn container in my mouth two seconds prior to this, then you might need glasses.”

-He apologised to you later for it but even so, you didn’t seem to mind like at all and he didn’t really understand why

-Unless you end up explaining why exactly you feel so indifferent about your life being in potential danger, he won’t really pry

-But now he has even more reason to follow you around like a lost puppy

-Since it’s clear you don’t really care about protecting yourself

-So now it’s his job to do it

-MC protection squad? Mostly Beel and Mammon

-ahhh he cute

Belphie:

-Oh

-You piss him off so much

-He’s trying to have his moment, you know?

-Finally getting that glimmer of satisfaction after killing a human as a way to avenge his sister’s death

-Trying his hardest to make it as miserable as possible because he has so much rage in him, he needs you to suffer

-“Harder Daddy-“

-“Oh fuck off.”

-Nah but for real, what the fuck MC

-Why does he even bother, he feels like he should be sleeping instead of dealing with your bullshit

-Even afterwards, when your future self shows up and he tries to kill you again, you look more thoughtful than irritated???

-Lucifer and Beel are literally holding him back from doing another Chocky on you and you’re standing there, looking at him with your eyebrows raised

-“Hey Belphie, I have a quick question. I know you’re trying to kill me and everything but do you like the colour blue?”

-“HUH??!?!”

-“It’s a simple yes or no question Belphie. Do. You. Like. Blue?”

-“WHAT DOES IT MATTER???!!!”

-“BELPHAGOUR, AVATAR OF SLOTH-YES OR NO, JUST FUCKING ANSWER!”

-“YES! FUCK YOU!”

-“Ah ok thanks. I like blue too :)”

-????????????

-Pls he felt like sticking his foot down your throat

-As of late, he’s kind of glad he didn’t manage to scare you away that day and that he didn’t traumatise you or something

-At the time, he was mad because he didn’t understand why you weren’t scared but now he just wants to make it up to you

-“You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry MC, I won’t blame you if you decide to stay away from me now.”

-“Stfu dipshit, what’s gotten you so depressed? Did you have another fight with Beel? I told you not to eat the last slice of cake.”

-“Rude ass, I was trying to apologise for my past mistakes-let me repent will you?”

-“Said no demon ever. Now let’s go hang out you emo bitch.”

-Y’all vibe together on a spiritual level once that shit gets sorted out

-But he’s kinda scared you might pull out a knife on him ngl

-Obviously, you’re still annoying as fuck with that indifferent attitude of yours but he can live with it

-He appreciates the fact that you’re not scared of him, even after what he’s done

Diavolo:

-Ah yes, the future King of DevilDom himself

-He’s very enthusiastic about the idea of you having fun this year…..and to keep you alive….

-He, of course, expected a range of reactions from you when he first summoned you here

-None of which were “Ok but could you not have given me a heads up? Before the whole teleportation thing? I face-planted your onto marvellously polished the floor and now I think I lost even more brain cells than before.”

-He felt so bad gagajajahahwgehhsb

-He apologised for bringing you out here without any warning like that and then proceeded to introduce you to everyone

-Diavolo is actually kind of relieved to see you’re handling everything pretty well

-He thought that maybe DevilDom was too much for a human to deal with

-Meeting Barbatos also went incredibly smooth

-“Barbatos? The one that cleans the floors right? Big fan of your work, I could eat off the floor of the main hall.”

-He’s so glad to see you getting along with everyone and not getting intimidated by the brothers

-It gets him excited thinking about how the exchange program is gonna work and all three realms will be united

-But he’s not stupid so don’t think he’ll allow you to stumble around, getting up to all sorts of mischief

-He always has someone watching you because he would hate to see you die, despite being pretty fond of your carefree attitude

-“MC, please be careful. Most demons here aren’t all that nice.”

-“Aye aye Captain.”

-He fears that many demons would take your indifference as a challenge and try to assert dominance or something by kidnapping you

-As far as creatures of hell go, they love installing fear in people

-So he always keeps an extra eye open for you

-And he’ll be there to help you if something goes wrong

-But other than that, he’s pretty chill as well and he finds you so hilarious, it’s been a while since he’s seen someone as eccentric and dramatic as Mammon and Asmo

-Idk what else to add here, Diavolo is very accepting and as long as you don’t get hurt, he’s glad you can get used to your new surroundings so easily

———————————-

Al~

573 notes · View notes

diavolosthots · 3 years

Note

Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.

I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊

For request

First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.

If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!

I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!

(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)

Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut

Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish

THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)

Lucifer:

Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all.

“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?”

Mammon:

Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness.

“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying.

Leviathan:

His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now.

“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”

Satan:

For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes

“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…”

Asmodeus:

How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin.

“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?”

Beelzebub:

Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought…

“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”

Belphegor:

Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first…

“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #cheys headcanons #asmodeus obey me #belphegor obey me #mammon obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #tw angst

733 notes · View notes

rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Gold — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Hello :D I know you have many requests so you don't have to do this, but I just need something super fluffy and your writing is just so perfect and- maybe 18,26 and 40 from fluff list?”

“hey love. could you please write five hargreeves x wife!reader. your works are amazing ❤️”

Fluff prompts:

18. “Enjoying the view, beautiful?”

26. “I’ll keep you warm.”

40. “Come cuddle.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here!!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Thank you soooo much for the requests and the affection 💖I decided to compile these two requests, since Anon # 2 asked for something super fluff and I managed to do something wonderful with those two requests. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves/Fem! Reader.

Warning: bad words and fluff. SOOO FLUFF.

— — — — —

It was like finding the anchorage in the middle of the raging sea, a mountain chalet in the middle of a noisy city, your little piece of happiness in the midst of all the chaos that was life your life. That was exactly how Five Hargreeves felt about you. You were cozy, warm, good. Like a hot mug of Colombian coffee after many cold years.

You were the little paradise of Five, a vision of heaven for a doomed demon. He didn't know why or how he won you over, how you had so much patience and sweetness with his temper, or why you agreed to hug him when you knew you were going to get hurt with the thorns. But you did. You gave up your peace to embrace his chaos and... Five was grateful.

He was grateful that you hugged, that you insisted, that you showed that life was... more. That the spring breeze is delicious when pay attention, that the sun is warm when take a minute to enjoy it, that the stars are breathtaking on a clear night.

And when you showed him all of that, making Five realize and feel things he never felt, see the world in a way he never saw, he was amazed. It was like waking up to a different life, a different timeline in which everything was good.

The cruel side of the world, the nefarious side of people, was presented to him from an early age, since he was created to fight it, as a machine against evil. So when you appeared, with your sunny smile, sweet taste and such a lyrical soul, Five saw the gray world being painted by a vibrant gold. Because that was what you were. Gold.

It was bomb, like an explosion. Five had this family of misfits heroes and this job, and he concentrated his whole life on it, because that was all he knew. Bad people never stopped, the end of the world always came, calculations always needed to be done. And then a girl shrill firework plummeted in his life and reset the entire world he knew.

If Five had to describe you with the five senses, he would say that your soul smelled like heaven, that your voice had the gift of bringing peace to anyone, and that the world seemed a much better place with you in it.

Then he fell in love. And it wasn’t just a slip or a stumbling block in his heart, it was a fall, deep and abysmal. Five was falling like the fall of Troy and he felt the dazzle that Icarus had feel when flying close to the sun. You were the sun. And just as life on Earth needs the sun to continue living, Five needed you to stay standing.

So he did the most sensible thing, the only thing that made sense: Five married you.

He got married because it didn't make sense not to have forever the one thing that made him happy in his life. He got married because you were the only thing that mattered in the world. He married because... Five loved you and was not able to think of a reality in which you were not his.

When you kissed him, with a huge smile when it was said “I declare you husband and wife." it would be recorded in Five's mind as the best day of his life.

And as soon as his lips touched yours, sealing perpetual vows, Five Hargreeves never felt so... light. All the weight that has always existed on saving the world, the family, the people, has evaporated. Like water. And it was there that he decided he didn't want any of that anymore.

That the life of a superhero, his father's expectations and plans, that whole city would go to damn hell. You were so much more important than the things that Reginald always wanted to prioritize

“You are my highest priority.” It was the first thing Five whispered to you as your husband on that altar, eyes swearing devotion and etern protection.

Five could be many things, good or bad, but he wouldn't care less about being the villain in someone's story if it meant keeping you safe. There was only one weakness in him: you. And no one would ever be crazy to touch a thread on your pretty head.

And while everyone enjoyed their wedding party, Five enjoyed the sight yours flushed cheeks, the big smile overflowing with the purest happiness, the sparkling eyes. God, he would do anything to see you smile like that every day.

But just as he was facination at you once again, so were you with him. Too much in love with the man - now you husband - in front of you. So elegant and wonderful in that black suit, the white and milky skin stood out in that darkness of clothes and dark hair.

Damn it, you loved so much that young God.

“Enjoying the view, beautiful?” Five opened one of the malicious and naughty smiles when he caught you staring at him in wonder.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him while resting your chin on his chest.

“For sure, husband.” You joked, the smile never left your face.

Five laughed softly, his large, warm hands coming down to your shore, landing there, gently falling his face forward to give a kiss on your lips. He just never managed to keep his hands off you.

“Great, wife. Because I going to be the only man you havet.” He looked at you petulantly while you laughed, always used to his strongest tone of voice.

You laid your head on his chest, still laughing softly.

“You are terrible.”

Five dropped his mouth to you ear, whispering with amusement in his voice:

“But you made the mistake of marrying to terrible man." You laughed again “And do you know what calms me?"

Now you lifted your face to get a better look at Five, still holding each other, their bodies swaying slowly with the symphony of music in the background.

“Which divorce is always an option?" You joked.

Five laughed loudly, shoulders shaking, his siblings looking at him fascinated, perplexed and amazed at how happy Five was with you.

Normally no woman would have that sense of humor, to play with something like that, but not you. Five loved that about you. You liked the black sense of humor, the loving teasing.

“No. And get that idea out of your head. We are already married, it is forever.”

“Till death do Us part.” You repeated the vows you had said a few hours ago, and Five felt himself melt in that sentence.

Yes. Until death do us part. And he would make sure it took a long, long time.

You lay down on his chest again “But what are you going to say?”

“Hm?” That was the effect you had on him, it made him forget own thoughts.

“You were going to say what calms you down.”

Then he lowered his mouth to you neck, whispering in your skin:

“That this party is going to end soon and that I'm going to fuck you like my wife for the first time.”

Now you blushed violently, controlling your smile and patting his chest lightly, lifting your face and sealing your lips over his.

“Mrs. Hargreeves.” Five said against you lips, and this time you were taken higher than the sky.

Most married people say that after the honeymoon things get cold. Passion ends, routine takes over. But that's not what happened to Five and you. Perhaps that was only valid for normal relationships and couples, and, well, not for empowered men.

“It's raining again!” You said to Five, coming back to the living room in you two apartment, with two cups of hot coffee in your hands.

“Is tasty.” He said, looking out from the balcony, which gave a view of the top of the city being swallowed by the heavy rain.

He accepted the cup when you sat down next to him, the silver of his wedding ring hitting the porcelain.

“I prefer heat.” You muttered under your breath, pulling your legs up onto the couch, your hands wrapped around the hot cup.

It was very cold. Well, too cold for you, Five found that climate to be very pleasant, perfect for feeling peaceful. You understood him, Five always appreciated things that exuded a light air, and a rainy night with coffee in his hands was one of the things he loved most.

“Of course you prefer.” He laughed softly, looking at you mischievously. “For you to parade with your small and provocative skirts.”

You laughed, amazed, looking at Five in disbelief.

“My skirts are perfectly decent!” You defended yourself, laughing, and Five made an expression of utter disbelief, as if you said the sky was blue. “Yes they are!”

“Uhum.” He drank the coffee, teasing you while you put your cup on the coffee table.

“You love my skirts!”

“Because it makes me want to fuck you.”

“Five!” You laughed, and he narrowed on you, leaning over you as he kissed your jaw.

“You weren't calling me ‘Five’ last night.” He whispered against your skin, and you laughed softly, dropping your hands to his chest “ But I think...”

Then he leaned in even more, hovering over your lips, and when you thought he was finally going to kiss you and stop being a provocateur, Five reached out with his free hand and stole your coffee cup, walking away from you with a victorious smile that said that everything had gone as planned.

You looked at him in disbelief, a frozen smile on you face, which turned into a puzzled laugh.

“You are terrible! That's mine!”

He laughed out loud now, and poured your coffee into his own mug, enjoying your laughter. God, he loved to hear you laugh. And Five knew he was almost never in the mood for it, or he wasn't so cheerful enough to give what he thought you deserved. So he would play with you with small gestures at times, trying to get that wonderful sound out of you.

And this time, it looked like it worked.

“I'm cold and you stole my hot drink!”

You two laughed again, and Five left the mugs on the table before settling on the couch and looking at you.

“Come here” he patted his chest “I’ll keep you warm.”

And you went, crawling until you had your head on his chest, your body on top of his, your warmth being shared.

God, you loved him so much.

“Is that your version of ‘Come cuddle.'? " You provoked, playing, having fun.

He smiled, lowering his lips to the top of you head and giving a kiss there. Taking a second to say what you already knew.

“Yes, Mrs. Hargreeves.”

You laughed, and raised your head to him at the same time that Five did and his. And the kiss you two gave that second was the promise that you would have wonderful years ahead of you.

706 notes · View notes

wrathandgreed · 3 years

Text

His Worst Sin

Simeon - Angst - 1.5K

TW: mild swearing, hints of abusive parents if you squint.

Was it so wrong to want more?

Of course, being an angel, Simeon knew the answer was yes. Yes, it was wrong to want more, because Father provided everything you needed. If you didn’t have it, you didn’t need it, and it’s very absence was important to your life or your growth. Wanting more meant you didn’t value what you already had.

But every time you sat next to him in class, every time you came over to bake with Luke, to learn spells with Solomon, every time you stayed for dinner or simply sat with him and read a book while he wrote, Simeon couldn’t help wanting more. Stay, he wanted to say so many times. Just stay.

But every time, he watched your demon come and pick you up from Purgatory Hall. A greeting with a kiss, your fingers laced together, a quick laugh at something he said as he walked you away from the angel and back to the House of Lamentation.

Simeon knew he wasn’t a very good angel. He had problems with his anger, problems he stuffed down with smiles and let slip with pointed statements. After the fact, he was always ashamed of himself, ashamed of his loss of control, ashamed of his temper, ashamed and afraid of what Father would think, afraid of where his anger would lead him in the end.

Lately, his anger, his worst sin, had begun to shift a little, and he felt himself on edge almost constantly. The fight to keep control, not to let go with irritated statements or annoyed observations, began to consume him. Meditation and prayer did little, and he was deeply confused by the worsening of his own weakness. Eventually he realized the only time he felt peaceful anymore was with you. But the moment you left, the minute your lover’s arm circled around your shoulder or waist, the anger would hit him so hard it sometimes left him breathless.

It was only after a period of introspection that he realized he’d succumbed to another sin: jealousy.

Heaven help him, he tried to control it. More prayer, more meditation, journaling, turning his feelings into fiction, he even started avoiding you in an attempt to bring his angelic nature back in line. Only when your confused texts and voicemails became hurt and bewildered did he give in.

Two sins to control now? Two? Wasn’t wrath enough, Father?

Love, this type of love, was forbidden to him.

I won’t fall. I won’t. Murmured to himself, over and over. Repeated like a mantra. Like a prayer.

His life in the Celestial Realm always felt like skating on thin ice (Father help me if I ever use such a cliché in my own writing!). He knew the other angels thought he was, well, strange. His anger, no matter how well hidden, was only part of the equation. His humor was never understood. He spoke about things best forgotten, voiced opinions better left silenced. He knew his creativity, his writing, was considered unusual and borderline wrong by the others.

His only saving grace, in their eyes, was the patience and care he showed the young angels.

He was pretty sure his shaky status was one reason he had been sent down to the Devildom on this exchange program. Not as an ambassador, but as a lesson. Look, Simeon, look at what could happen to you if you get any worse.

What they didn’t know was how good it felt to be understood, down here among the devils. To be praised for his cooking, to be helped with technology. To not only give, but to be able to take as well. The brothers didn’t exactly trust him (and the bangle incident hadn’t exactly helped with trust. He’d been so enraged at being used to essentially torture them - even if it had been an accident - that he’d had to hole up in Purgatory Hall for a few days to make sure he was fit to be around people) but neither did they shun him.

And you . . . You laughed with him, you read his latest writings with praise and gentle critique, you sat in silence with him, profound and welcome silence, until that comfortable silence felt more like home than home. You used your good heart to help counsel Luke, curtail the worst traits of the demons, and, somehow, heal all those around you.

You did so much already, cared for him so much already. Perhaps it wasn’t the way he wanted you to love him, but you loved him. So why did he want more?

And why did this bring out all of his worst traits? Why did he want to be petty - and worse, manipulative? He got chocolate all over his gloves the last time you baked together just so he had an excuse to remove them, an excuse to brush the skin of his bare hand against yours as you shared the beignets. Hours of his writing time disappeared as he dreamed about - and occasionally wrote about - ways to drive a wedge between you and your demon lover.

You were happy. Why couldn’t he be happy for you?

Why did he hate himself so much just for loving you?

Why was this love forbidden to him?

Perhaps he’d be better off just waiting. You were a truly good person; the odds of you ascending after death were far better than average. Perhaps he could approach you then, when you were alone . . .

What is wrong with you, Simeon? Get a hold of yourself.

You’d missed a step outside of RAD today and before you could do more than recognize that you were falling, he’d caught you. Hugging you to his chest until you regained your balance, he’d been unable to breath. Partly out of fear for you, but partly at how you pressed your hands to the skin of his arms, wrapped your hands around his biceps to steady yourself. And then, steady on your feet again, you’d looked up at him with bright eyes and laughed at your own clumsiness until he’d laughed with you.

And as he woke that night, sharply, from a dream full of forbidden ecstasy, he realized he’d slipped into lust as well.

Sliding out of bed, he padded, barefoot, to the communal bathroom. Locked the door. And instead of doing what a human or demon might do, he gripped the edges of the sink with both hands and stared, hard, angry, into the reflection of his own eyes.

He began, at last, to understand Belphegor. He couldn’t feel hatred towards humanity, he loved them too much, but he could (and did, if he was honest) feel anger and jealousy. They were given everything. Everything. Not just the ability to love, but the autonomy to love freely.

It was the last realization that almost broke him. Even if you came to him with words of love on your lips, he wouldn’t be able to accept them.

I won’t fall. I won’t. I won’t, I won’t, I won’tIwon’tIWON’T!

He broke eye contact with himself, lowering his head, gripping the sink so tightly his hands hurt, until he feared he might snap the porcelain. He wanted the pain to ground him, to focus his mind. How futile.

Could he? Could he accept you if you came to him?

He was so afraid that he couldn’t.

He was so afraid that he could.

He was so afraid of falling, and so, so afraid of Father . . .

His eyes snapped back up to meet his own gaze. Was he? Was he afraid of Father?

A long moment, a searching gaze, trying to read the answer in his own countenance.

Was he afraid of Father?

He was so afraid the answer was yes.

Why am I always so damned afraid??

A loud noise and his reflection shattered to pieces in front of him. Slowly, slowly, he looked down at his bleeding hand. He hadn’t meant to . . .

Whirling away from the remains of the mirror, Simeon walked over the shards on the floor, ignoring how they bit into his bare feet. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he slumped over, his head in his hands.

This was his worst sin, wasn’t it? Not wrath . . .but cowardice.

Why hadn’t he made a move on you before any of the demons? Cowardice.

Why hadn’t he stood up with Lucifer and the others during the war? He’d believed in them, believed in Lilith, believed in love. Why hadn’t he stood with his brothers? Pure cowardice.

He hadn’t even had the courage to stand and face them in battle, to face his former brothers with honor.

And where was he now? Where had his cowardice brought him?

Alone, afraid, riddled with sin.

His own face, fractured, made of shards on the floor.

He felt himself too much of a coward to grasp what was available right in front of him. Was it wrong of him to want more anyway?

Would he have to fall to have the courage to grab for what he wanted?

And…..would it be so bad, in the end, if he did?

He was so afraid of the answer.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #obey me fic #my fic #simeon #angst #obey me angst #obey me mc #obey me fanfic #fanfic

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Chapter 5 of The Quiet Room (ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4)

Nie Mingjue took three tries to wake up.

In all truth, he wasn’t that badly injured – if it hadn’t been for how tangled his spiritual energy already was, steeped in resentment from his wayward cultivation and burned by trying to keep a saber’s pace from within a human body, a night’s rest and some tonics would probably have been enough to put him right. But it was, and he was, and so the concern of his doctors was all the more pronounced.

The first time he woke, it was to Nie Xiaoxuan, a cantankerous old doctor who’d lost all patience with her patients years before Nie Mingjue had been conceived, looking down at him with a scowl, saying, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Go back to sleep!”

A needle had descended, leaving him not much choice about the matter – it was a good thing he was used to such rough treatment, or else he might’ve worried. Instead he found some comfort in how some things were always the same, and his Nie sect’s objectively awful bedside manner was one of them.

He slept.

He woke a second time to arguing outside his door in the middle of the night, whispers and hisses that were so loud as to be unworthy of being called lowered voices –

“– the Sect Leader deserves to know!”

“Nie-er-gongzi gave the order, and it was obeyed. There isn’t any need to disturb the Sect Leader’s recuperation over nonsense.”

“Nonsense?! Do you know what the implications will be? Nie-er-gongzi is still young, he doesn’t understand –”

“Sect Leader was once younger still. There is still sect discipline, or are you making an official challenge to his judgment? If so, you should be bothering Nie-er-gongzi, as the one who gave the order, and a council of peers that would be assembled to determine if his judgment was flawed.”

“I - no. I won’t.”

“If there’s no challenge to the quality of Nie-er-gongzi’s judgment, then there’s no reason to talk to the Sect Leader.”

Nie Mingjue smiled, proud of his sect and of his brother – even if he didn’t know exactly what it was that Nie Huaisang had ordered that had caused such a stir – and went back to sleep.

He woke up the third time to the sounds of a guqin.

He’d always been slow to wake from an induced sleep, and this time was no different – his body was heavy, confining, and it was a long time before he managed to open his eyes. A half-shichen at least, and yet the guqin continued steadfastly onwards.

So by the time he did manage to open his eyes, the first words out of Nie Mingjue’s mouth were, “Wangji, please stop making a racket.”

The sound of the guqin paused.

Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him. Lan Wangji looked better than he had the last time he’d seen him, in that horrible mixture of nightmare and reality that had been their flight from the Cloud Recesses and the terrible strain of flying all the way to Qinghe in a single night. If either of them had been lesser cultivators, they wouldn’t have been able to manage it; even at their level, it was considered highly unwise, and they had known that they were spending life energy rather than spiritual qi to buy them the strength they needed.

At least it had been late enough that both children, initially excited by all the rushing around involved in their escape, had quickly lapsed back into sleep instead of descending to tears.

Still, better was a low bar. By the end of their flight, Lan Wangji had had blood soaking through his white robes, his eye locked on the horizon and unable to focus on anything nearer, his entire body wracked with occasional shudders – if he’d been anyone else, he would have been screaming.

He still look pale and bloodless, his eyes hunted and guilty and tired, stark white bandages visible beneath the pale (but not white) robes that looked like something Nie Huaisang had once owned, but he didn’t look about to expire, so Nie Mingjue would take that as a victory.

“I would have thought,” Lan Wangji said carefully, laying his hands on the guqin chords to stop the sound, “that you would prefer that it not be silent.”

“There’s silence and then there’s silence,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to shrug and abruptly realizing that that was a bad idea. His shoulders and neck and back all hurt – possibly he’d dislocated something in trying to get out of that horrible room. Probably, even. “Not wanting to be locked in a room designed to be as close to nothingness as possible doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t want some peace and quiet once in a while…I shouldn’t have called your playing a racket. It’s very good. There was just a lot of it.”

Lan Wangji blinked, then shook his head. “I do not take offense,” he said, simply enough that Nie Mingjue believed him. “It is a surprise that you think the way you do about silence, even now. I myself have been…struggling, with the concept.”

“It’s very loud here,” Nie Mingjue said knowingly, and Lan Wangji averted his eyes. “It’s all right if you don’t like it that much, you know. Has Huaisang talked with you about the options for soundproofing?”

“He has,” Lan Wangji said. “I have not yet accepted.”

“Why not?”

“It feels –” he hesitated. “Like a step backwards. My Lan sect has always valued silence, quiet – not just valued, but imposed, even on those for whom it is not appropriate.”

Like you, he meant, or maybe he was thinking about little Lan Jingyi, the orphan he’d stolen away from his own sect – truly stolen, since unlike little Lan Sizhui Lan Wangji had no guardianship rights over him to justify taking him away.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t objected to it, figuring that it didn’t make much difference to the amount of scandal he would undoubtedly causse whether he had taken away one child or two when he convinced the Second Jade of Lan to abandon his ‘seclusion’ in favor of refuge at the Unclean Realm. Anyway, if Lan Wangji had concluded that it would be better for the child to leave, then it probably was – Nie Mingjue trusted his judgment.

Just like you trusted Lan Xichen’s?

“Each sect has a different cultivation style,” he said, deciding not to think about that right now. “With both strengths and weaknesses. My Nie sect has a martial style, aggressive and overpowering; your Lan sect, although it still follows the orthodoxy of sword cultivation, focuses on contemplation, thoughtfulness, and, yes, quiet. Who is to say which is better than the other? They’re just different.”

Lan Wangji was frowning.

“Sometimes I think Wen Mao made a mistake when he abandoned sects based on preference and style in favor of raising up his clan,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “And your ancestors and mine, too, in following his lead. Look at Huaisang – to cultivate a saber is his heritage, his birthright and his duty to our bloodline, and so he must do so despite being clearly unsuited for it.” He paused, then sighed. “Not that he’s all that suitable for anything else, either.”

Lan Wangji shot him a quelling look, disapproving, but in the sort of way that Lans had when they were amused by you.

“Still, we’re all cultivators, each of us fighting against fate,” Nie Mingjue continued. “While we must be guided by our traditions, we must also each find the path that suits us best. You’ve always enjoyed the quiet, Wangji; you welcome peace, prefer order, thrive within the confines of your sect’s rules. Finding the point at which you and your traditions part ways does not mean that you are morally obligated to give up everything about them.”

“Not even when those traditions have caused so much harm?”

“Even so,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. “We’re all on a path, and in choosing to take a new turn, you are not disregarding the past, but adding your wisdom to that of those who came before you. I made changes to my Nie sect’s cultivation style once I became sect leader, just as my father did before me; my brother will make still more when he takes the position after I go. Each of my Nie sect disciples practices the Nie sect style, but each one takes it and makes it their own. Keep what helps, discard what hurts.”

“But in this case, is it not the very same thing?” Lan Wangji asked. His brow was still furrowed, the matter clearly one of great concern to him. “I have always turned to the quiet for comfort and strength, sought seclusion to temper myself and test myself, and yet – in the absence of all noise– I found myself slowly going mad, locked away and alone. You yourself nearly died from it. What lesson can I take from this, if not that the quiet is evil?”

“You can take the lesson that too much quiet can be an evil, in the same way too much medicine can be a poison,” Nie Mingjue said. “I might hate your jingshi, since it doesn’t suit me, but I’m given to understand that it often helps, too. It brings peace to cultivators who are tormented by a mind full of thoughts they cannot quiet and helps them fight the demons in their hearts, it allows those who are too connected to the world to tear themselves away. It was built for a purpose.”

“It was,” Lan Wangji said. “A purpose it has now betrayed.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t have anything to say about that. He’d once told Lan Xichen that he thought his sect’s practice of introducing children to that place until they learned quiet whether they liked it or not was inhumane and cruel, and Lan Xichen – in a rare moment of sarcasm – had asked him if teaching them to cultivate a saber spirit that would eventually consume their minds with rage was somehow meant to be morally superior.

To each their own faults, he supposed. Perhaps the next generation would do better.

(He found himself thinking things like that a great deal, these days. He was only in his twenties, and yet his thoughts resembled an old man’s – the feeling of death stalking his footsteps, the day nearly done, his legacy a book that seemed to be nearly completed.

That had been what had driven him to stop his sessions of Clarity with Jin Guangyao, in fact. He’d been reviewing a plan for renovating the western courtyards of the Unclean Realm as part of a long-term plan to get more air and light in there and he’d found himself thinking I probably won’t be here to see this completed, and that had been when he’d realized that it was time to start seriously planning for succession.)

“Perhaps it is the conflation of different things,” Lan Wangji mused, more to himself than anyone else. “The quiet, being alone, loneliness…and yet you can have quiet without being alone, you can be alone without being lonely, you can be lonely without quiet. A balance between disconnecting from the world and connecting with other people.”

That sounded like poetry, and Nie Mingjue could see Lan Wangji’s fingers twitch towards the guqin – he’d probably been inspired.

Nie Mingjue sighed and put his hand over his eyes. His father had told him that being an elder brother meant a life of sacrifice, and he’d been right. “All right,” he said. “Go ahead and play something. I know you want to.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a few long moments, and then his fingers began to move, the too-familiar sound of the Song of Clarity rising up to fill Nie Mingjue’s ears.

“I didn’t mean for me,” Nie Mingjue clarified, rolling his eyes while his hand was still hiding them. The Lan were always so earnest. “I’m not even meditating right now, Wangji. Don’t waste your effort.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers stilled briefly, then continued.

“Chifeng-zun –”

Nie Mingjue pulled his hand away long enough to give Lan Wangji a stern look – he’d already told him several times to refer to him more casually, and however long or short his stay at the Unclean Realm was, if they were going to endure a scandal together, he was simply going to have to adjust to their ways.

Lan Wangji looked long-suffering.

“Mingjue-xiong,” he conceded, and Nie Mingjue nodded, pleased. “Please pay close attention to my playing. Identify if there are any differences between my rendition and –”

“Wangji,” Nie Mingjue interrupted, feeling pained at the very thought. “I can’t.”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, his eyes showing distress.

Nie Mingjue felt guilty at once, and exhaled a sigh. “Wangji, you know I don’t cultivate with music,” he said. “It’s all just interminable plucking to me.”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows shot up. “Plucking?” he echoed, and Nie Mingjue winced – he’d probably shocked poor Lan Wangji’s conscience. “Mingjue-xiong…you really don’t like music, do you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “I can more or less follow a beat or rhythm, and military calls are fine no matter what instrument is involved, but the rest is all a mess of pointless noise. I can’t tell if the notes are high or low, which ones go before the others, and apparently there are different tones in music as there are in speech? Except in music, certain of them apparently sporadically considered bad, in a variety of different and exciting ways, sometimes but not others, none of which make the slightest difference – ”

He stopped talking on account of Lan Wangji having started to make an unusual hiccupping sound.

Nie Mingjue squinted. Was Lan Wangji…laughing?

If so, he was sorely out of practice. Though now that he thought it, that seemed to make some sense.

“Forgive me,” Lan Wangji said, shoulders shaking – he’d stopped making audible noise, but he was evidently still suffering from an attack of hilarity. “You speak so well, Mingjue-xiong; I had not realized that you suffered from amusia.” He saw Nie Mingjue’s frown of confusion and clarified, “Tone-deafness.”

“I say so all the time!”

“I had incorrectly assumed, as I suspect many have, that you were using the term colloquially,” Lan Wangji said. “How do you fight alongside my brother? I have seen you do so flawlessly, without any impediment, even when he wields Liebing.”

“I can follow along with what he’s doing with his qi,” Nie Mingjue said. “We have been close for so many years, and his spiritual energy is as familiar to me as my own –”

Lan Wangji flinched.

Nie Mingjue stopped talking.

His heart was heavy in his chest, weighed down with feeling, all those things he’d been so carefully not thinking about suddenly stifling him. Lan Xichen, his childhood friend, his lover, his beloved…

He’d hurt him.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t bring himself to believe that the act had been intentional or malicious, not even when Lan Wangji’s arrival made painfully clear that Lan Xichen hadn’t even bothered to supervise him. It simply wasn’t in Lan Xichen’s nature to do such an underhanded thing –

(You once thought Meng Yao wouldn’t do that sort of thing, either. Do you make a habit of blindness?)

He had known Lan Xichen for such a long time, though. If he didn’t know him, both virtues and faults, what person existed that he could say he understood?

No, Lan Xichen must have been trying to help him, not hurt him. And yet – regardless of his intent – he had.

He had hurt him very badly.

Lan Xichen hadn’t listened to him, had ignored him, disregarded him – Nie Mingjue had been as clear as he could be about how he felt about the quiet room. Perhaps he hadn’t told Lan Xichen about his youthful attempt to see if he could handle it, at first out of simply not wanting to appear weak in front of his lover, but later out of (admittedly petty) principle: shouldn’t his ‘no’ be enough? Shouldn’t Lan Xichen have trusted him?

He hadn’t.

He’d trusted Jin Guangyao instead.

Jin Guangyao with his smiles and slippery manner, with his so-believable excuses and always-present rationalizations, always the victim in every exchange they had – Lan Xichen always went to comfort him first after they had another one of their arguments, Nie Mingjue recalled abruptly. He’d called him on it once, in his anger, but Lan Xichen had explained that he knew how strong Nie Mingjue was, how resilient, and that his “A-Yao” needed his sympathy more.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He was resilient, and anyway he knew how frightening his rages could be; he’d thought perhaps that Lan Xichen simply wanted the excuse to be elsewhere until he’d had a chance to calm down.

He’d rationalized a lot of things. Maybe too many. But this?

This was too much.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Wangji said hesitantly. “About – about my brother…”

Nie Mingjue grimaced, and Lan Wangji felt silent once more.

Nie Mingjue’s heart cried out for his lover, the kind and gentle man who might be a little too reluctant to express himself, a little prone to going with the will of the majority to avoid confrontation, a little inclined to panic at the thought of disappointing people, but whose faults only made him the more human, the more loveable.

But Nie Mingjue had slept, and slept well, and even if his heart was still tangled, his mind was now clear.

“I have long thought,” he said carefully, painfully cognizant of the fact that Lan Wangji was Lan Xichen’s younger brother, “that fate had arranged for your brother and I to meet, and that we would live the rest of our lives intertwined, our hears and minds filled with thoughts of one another. But it seems to me now that that was perhaps – not our destiny.”

“My brother has wronged you,” Lan Wangji said solemnly.

“I still believe his intent was good,” Nie Mingjue assured him earnestly. “Your brother has – more reason than most, I think, to resent my intransigence on matters of my health, and to suspect – to suspect –”

He stopped, swallowed. He had long been (politely) termed to be a straightforward man; it was not in his character to stutter over his speech, to be unable to say the unvarnished truth no matter how painful. Even if it was his lover who was causing him such pain.

“Wangji,” he said instead, and Lan Wangji looked at him. “You know that my family – does not live long lives.”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“It is not uncommon,” he said carefully, “for those in my family to begin to show signs of decline before the end. A certain rigidity of thought –”

“You are not so far down that path that your thinking has become impaired,” Lan Wangji said abruptly, his voice unexpectedly fierce. “Moreover, your refusal was not new, but consistent with your prior thoughts, your opinion expressed repeatedly and consistently. Do not make excuses for him.”

Nie Mingjue was a little surprised, having expected Lan Wangji to defend his brother, but then he recalled the matter of those thirty-three marks marring Lan Wangji’s back. Even if Lan Wangji’s conduct had been wrong, it had been motivated by love, and at any rate the others in the Lan sect had not died – no one had died, except for Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji had only been able to offer his beloved the succor of his presence for a short time before he returned to submit himself to punishment.

Impulsive, hot-headed, passionate – it might not be the actions of a Lan, but, as a Nie, Nie Mingjue found his sympathies lay with Lan Wangji in this matter. Yes, he had defended a murderer from being torn apart by the hands of his victims, and Nie Mingjue would not say that he did not think it was necessary for Wei Wuxian to die, but even those that had been duly tried and sentenced to the worst capital punishment might still be allowed the mercy of a good meal and the touch of their lover’s hand before they were executed, and a bit of disobedience against one’s elders was to be expected in any love affair.

Was fending off a few old men to buy a few shichen of love before its premature end really worth a punishment that would have crippled anyone weaker?

“Actions matter more than intent,” he agreed, wondering how he could convey his thoughts on the subject without being offensive to the Lan sect, “but that doesn’t make intent meaningless. To act from love and affection is still better than for – other reasons.”

He wasn’t sure Lan Wangji had understood his meaning: the other man only lowered his eyes.

Nie Mingjue’s mind reluctantly returned to his own troubles.

“I’ll speak with Xichen,” he decided, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea. Lan Xichen’s conduct, however it was meant, could be understood as having brought him to the very precipice of death – enough justification to start a war, given that Nie Mingjue was a sect leader. Their respective positions meant that a disagreement between them could never be simply personal, but was also political; if Nie Mingjue allowed his soft heart to convince him to forgive Lan Xichen, he would be setting a poor standard for the future. “He can explain what he was thinking. If I find his explanation unsatisfactory, I will – tell him what I told you.”

Nie Mingjue was blunt and direct, sparing no one – not even himself – but he was not so cold as to be able to cut off a relationship that already spanned the majority of his life sign unseen. He would give Lan Xichen one chance to salvage things between them, to be shocked into sobriety by the extent of how things had gotten out of hand, to genuinely apologize –

“I think,” Lan Wangji said, very slowly, eyes still locked on the floor as if there was something fascinating there, “that brother’s explanation may omit that he was distracted by his other lover.”

Nie Mingjue’s heart froze in his chest.

“Other – lover?” he said dumbly. Lan Wangji refused to look at him. “Wangji – are you saying – Xichen has..?”

Lan Xichen wouldn’t. Surely he wouldn’t.

“Lianfeng-zun has told him lies, and Brother accepted them without verification,” Lan Wangji said, and his voice was bitter. “I believe that he feared confronting you on the subject of a man he knew you disliked, and also saw an opportunity to obtain his heart’s desire – to not give up anything and yet gain something he wanted. And Lianfeng-zun is known to be skilled in anticipating people’s desires.”

Nie Mingjue stared at the ceiling in a daze, his mind whirling.

So many little things suddenly made a belated sort of sense.

The way Lan Xichen seemed so certain that all the troubles between them were only temporary, the way that he entreated Nie Mingjue to think kindly of Jin Guangyao as if there was a stronger bond between them than a lost former friendship and a new sworn brotherhood. The way Jin Guangyao acted more intimately with Nie Mingjue whenever Lan Xichen was present, only to return to a more professional remove once they were alone – he’d assumed that was because Jin Guangyao knew that Lan Xichen would protect him if Nie Mingjue got annoyed with him for such familiarities and that Nie Mingjue would not want to upset his beloved by scolding over something so minor.

But if, for instance, Jin Guangyao had told Lan Xichen that they had been lovers once, those public intimacies, and Lan Xichen’s joy in them, all suddenly took on a new flavor –

Surely Lan Xichen knew that Nie Mingjue would never have done that to him?

Skilled in anticipating people’s desires.

Nie Mingjue had noticed Lan Xichen’s fondness for Jin Guangyao from the first, back when Jin Guangyao had been only Meng Yao, and he’d known that Meng Yao had respected and even revered the beautiful, powerful, and chivalrous Zewu-jun. He’d been pleased when they’d become friends, hadn’t minded the occasional light flirtation – he’d been so certain that nothing would come of it, trusted in Lan Xichen’s morality and their love. He himself was not skilled in wordplay the way they were, nor as sensitive to the subtle changes in a conversation, preferring to stay silent rather than risk mis-stepping, a habit formed of too much responsibility and exposure to politics at too early an age. Why shouldn’t Lan Xichen get to enjoy the cut and thrust of charming, clever conversation with an expert at the art?

They had all been friends back then. Nie Mingjue had been so proud of his prized deputy, and pleased beyond measure that Lan Xichen liked him as well; Nie Mingjue had so few friends that the addition of another one was something he treasured. Even if Lan Xichen’s good sense had surely told him that such betrayal was impossible, given Nie Mingjue’s character, he might still in his reckless desires allow himself to be intoxicated by his affections and believe it for just a little while – just long enough to taste Jin Guangyao’s lips, perhaps.

That’d be enough.

Nie Mingjue knew Lan Xichen well; he knew his lover’s faults as well as he knew his virtues. If Lan Xichen had allowed himself to act foolishly for a moment, he would have panicked at the thought of coming to terms with it, and Jin Guangyao was so good at soothing his panic. Too good: where Nie Mingjue, in his harshness, had always advised revisiting mistakes and learning from them, no matter how difficult the process, Jin Guangyao would always recommend being kind to oneself, taking care of oneself, avoiding the pain that came with tackling one’s flaws and erroneous self-conceptions head-on.

Too much care for the self would eventually mean not enough care for others, Nie Mingjue had always thought, rolling his eyes whenever Jin Guangyao earnestly held forth on his views. But Lan Xichen had liked it – and why wouldn’t he? It was easier to put yourself first, to refuse to admit mistakes were mistakes, to rationalize events until you were always the victim and everyone else wrong. It meant you didn’t have to confront your own capacity for cruelty and selfishness, could conceive of yourself as always virtuous and always good and always right.

Right, rather than righteous.

Justified, rather than just.

The way Jin Guangyao always did.

Yes, Lan Xichen might allow himself to kiss Jin Guangyao, or more if Jin Guangyao pushed his advantage – which he would, Nie Mingjue had no doubt of that – and then, after the fog of lust had cleared, Lan Xichen would realize that he’d have to confess the entire thing to Nie Mingjue.

An emotional confrontation of the sort he hated most.

And then, of course, just as Lan Xichen was most upset and vulnerable, Jin Guangyao would offer him a way out – a way for Lan Xichen to continue to see himself as a good person who had done no wrong, who didn’t need confront anything – a way to get a new love alongside the old, to have Jin Guangyao’s clever speech and gentle care while not losing Nie Mingjue’s steadfast affection and support.

It was not uncommon in their times for a man to have more than one wife and entirely possible for him to love them both equally; the idea of a triad was not so strange. But Lan Xichen should have asked.

He didn’t.

He didn’t ask because some part of him knew that the answer would be no, and, just as he had with the quiet room, that was not an answer he wished to accept.

And that…that was not something that could be blamed on Jin Guangyao, as much as Nie Mingjue would prefer to do so.

That was all Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen...how could you do this to me?

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes in pain. It felt as if all the air had been knocked out of him, like a really good punch might do - he felt hollow, weightless, disconnected, as if he had been struck by a blow that had shattered his bones and he was drifting in that blank space in the moment after the blow landed but before the pain reached his brain.

The full weight of the revelation would hit, eventually. He would feel it all, eventually.

“I see,” he said, and he did. Lan Wangji was upset over it in a way that suggested that he had only recently learned the truth. Given the speed of their travel, that meant he must have discovered it while conversing with Nie Huaisang – and that was another problem, because Nie Huaisang was their father’s son just as Nie Mingjue was, and nothing sparked their rage more than an offense against a loved one. “Thank you for telling me.”

“It is what I should do.”

Nie Mingjue nodded, his throat tight, his chest dull as if there was a knot where his heart had been - yes, he would need some time to deal with this.

“Huaisang is managing well?” he asked, not quite able to bring himself to actually ask for a little more time before he had to return to being the stern and untouchable sect leader, before he had to once again take on the mantle of power and make all the decisions – to force himself to react as a politician rather than a betrayed lover. It would be disgraceful to give into such weakness.

“He is,” Lan Wangji said. “He has given orders that you may not leave your room until the end of the week at the earliest, so as to remind the disciples of the benefit of rest following an injury.”

Nie Mingjue loved his brother.

“Very well,” he said, and decided not to ask about what Nie Huaisang might or might not have gotten into over the last day or so that had led some disciples to think they needed to disturb his rest in order to tell him. It didn’t really matter. They needed to adjust to taking Nie Huaisang’s orders as if he was sect leader in truth – especially if Nie Mingjue’s health continued to deteriorate…

He didn’t have time to think too much on that before Lan Wangji spoke again, saying, “Even if you do not understand music, you can follow the emanations of qi from an instrument, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Nie Mingjue said, a little puzzled by the sudden shift in conversation but deeply relieved to have something to think about - anything, really, as long as it wasn’t the brutal feeling of his heart being torn to shreds within his chest.

“So if I were to utilize musical cultivation, you might be able to determine if I were using the same patterns as you had heard others use?”

“I suppose so,” Nie Mingjue said. It would be extremely irritating to have to pay attention to such small ebbs and flows, especially when he was also trying to meditate and draw the qi into himself for the fullest effect, but he was familiar enough with Clarity by now that he probably could if he really had to. “But why?”

“A suspicion,” Lan Wangji said. “Nie Huaisang has pointed out that Lianfeng-zun’s actions in connection to my brother are suggestive of malice against you, his actions in convincing my brother to lock you into the jingshi doubly so, and yet he comes to visit you regularly, purportedly to improve your health.”

Purportedly.

Nie Mingjue grimaced again, but this time it was with anger at himself – because the suggestion did not shock him the way the information about Lan Xichen had. Meng Yao, Meng Yao, he thought, I wish I didn’t believe this of you. I extended my trust to you twice over, and each time you have disappointed me…it’s my own fault, I suppose, for being arrogant enough to think I could change you.

“Thank you, Wangji,” he said, suddenly tired. “I understand your implication, and we will of course need to examine whether it is correct. But not today.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji said, and stood up. “I will take my leave and go tell Nie Huaisang to move me into one of the soundproofed rooms. I require time to contemplate the subject of quiet.”

That made Nie Mingjue want to smile, though he couldn’t quite manage it, still twisted by all the revelations that had relentlessly pounded against him since he had awoken. “Good,” he said instead, turning to nod at Lan Wangji in approval. “I hope your meditation on the subject is fruitful.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji agreed. “As you said, I must find my own path, be guided by tradition but not unduly restricted by it. But there is one point in what you said that was incorrect.”

“Oh?”

“You said that I should not, without consideration, throw out my sect’s traditions,” Lan Wangji said, and he was standing stiffly, at attention, with his face as serious as it ever got. “But at the moment, it is not my sect. You have given me permission to stay here, and I intend to do so.”

Nie Mingjue’s first thought was oh that’s going to have some serious political implications, followed immediately by I guess I did do that didn’t I and someone is going to wring my throat over this, probably Huaisang, but very shortly thereafter with if this is what he needs then so be it.

Still, he could do nothing but watch, stunned, as Lan Wangji lifted his hands to his forehead and very deliberately removed the forehead ribbon that marked him as a member of the Lan sect – the symbol of his family, the symbol of his restraint, which he would normally have never allowed another person outside his family to see him without – and, just as deliberately, wrapped it around Nie Mingjue’s wrist.

“I would ask that you keep this for me, Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Wangji said, and his tone when he said Nie Mingjue’s name was the same as when he called Lan Xichen brother. “Until such time as I decide to reclaim it as my own, or discard it forever.”

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice a little faint from shock. “Whatever you need, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji looked at him, grateful, and saluted deeply before leaving.

Nie Mingjue lay back down on the bed and stared at his wrist for a long moment.

This is going to have some serious political implications, he thought a second time. And Lan Xichen won’t ever forgive me for stealing away his little brother.

A moment later, he shook his head at his own foolishness. Lan Xichen had made his choices.

Now he would have to pay for them.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #the quiet room

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abizarreyodelingincident · 3 years

Text

Braaaaaaains...

Jason Todd is legally – and biologically – dead. His family noted his lack of pulse at three in the morning, inside the cave, his body laid out on a table with medical instruments.

No, really, tell him something he doesn't know.

What else crawls out of a grave moaning and groaning?

Or, Jason thought his family full of the world's greatest detectives was smarter than this. Apparently not.

****************************************************************

It had been an ordinary night. Calm. The stage for very little costumed crime and barely more regular, non-insane crime as well. Half the menagerie that made up Dick's loving ragtag bunch of younger siblings had even taken the night off.

Nothing should have make him arrive to silence this thick, to this faint echo of sniffling.

He sprinted after the noise.

Damian's fine, left before me. Duke didn't go out, nor did Steph. Babs spent the evening with Cass in the cave, Tim swept the bowery and said he was going to stop by Jason's place to-

He collided with a shaking, tear stained Tim right outside the medbay.

There was a body on the closest table. Others around it, crying, pacing, muttering in denial.

Dick couldn't look.

No, no, please, please no. I can't do that again. I can't!

Scarred skin, too pale – to be Duke or Cass – by death. His breath hitched. No. He. Fuck.

He knew those scars. Those arms. That chest and that fucking Y from navel to shoulders.

“Dick! Jason... he was... I found him in his apartment. And I brought him to the cave... but... Jason doesn't have a pulse. He's... cold...”

Dick stumbled.

No.

No, no, no, that... that couldn't be real.

He caught himself on his little brother. Brought himself into a hug too tight, as painful as the arms gripping his ribs and back. A grip meant for a lifesaving light at sea. For a safeline over a ravine.

Twice. He'd lost the same brother twice. And this time, he didn't even have the excuse of inexperience and unstable situations. He... he patrolled the city whilst his brother was dead, completely oblivious to the fact. How could he? How dare he not know?!

“Shh, Tim, I'm here. I'm here.” But not for Jason, whispered a vicious part of him.

“What's all this?”

Dick's heart just about stopped.

Damian stood at the entrance to the lockers' room, uniform folded under one arm, hair slightly damp from a shower and Bat-themed pajamas worn without shame. His mild annoyance was proof he had no idea of the drama that had happened not twenty feet from him.

With reluctance, he let go of Tim, a gentle hand lingering on his shoulder, before he took a few steps toward his youngest, most vulnerable brother.

“D-Dami, I... ” Damn it, he had to be the one to tell Damian about this. Because otherwise, the person to break the news would be Bruce, and-

Shit.

Bruce.

Oh God. How could they possibly tell him- ? After all their fights, the goddamned shattering that had broken the man he had been, and their last conversations even being more admonishment about protocols that Jason had flippantly disregarded. Bruce would never recover. That was it. The end of Batman.

...But first, God he hated himself, wanted to just curl up in a corner and forget everything, first he had a young brother he needed to talk to. One... one little brother less than just this afternoon.

“Jason... ” He swallowed, his throat tight, his heart in denial, the words so damning, but needing to be said. “Jason did not make it. He... he's dead.”

Damian stayed thoughtfully silent.

Not... not the tearful reaction he had expected, but Damian had grown up surrounded by so much death and horror that he would obviously be guarded. And oh, Dick's heart went to his baby brother, and he truly wished he could

“I do not understand. Why such theatrics for the zombie?”

Dick gasped, knowledge warring with the flash of anger.

“Damian! He's our brother!”

“Did he lose his head?” Damian demanded, and Dick's mind buckled.

“Huh, no, but that doesn't have anything to d-”

“Then, why are you acting so weirdly emotional, Richard?”

Before Dick's temper could catch up to his mouth, the longest and most painful-sounding gasp erupted from the medbay, where, to the general shock of all, Jason's gray-ish body shot upward with both his arms raised.

Electroshocks didn't make you jolt like that.

Electroshocks, in fact, remained in their kit on the other side of the medbay, unused. Because Jason had seemingly been dead long before he had been brought to the cave.

That was roughly the moment when Dick's brain caught up with the first of many hints. Latched onto it with a fool's hope.

“... Damian... When you were calling Jason a 'zombie', what did you mean?”

Damian's brows scrunched up together, a look he meant to be intimidating, but had more in common with a disgruntled kitten. “Exactly that, Richard. Do we not have files on zombies in the computer? Dead bodies walking about animated by unholy powers?”

Jason's not- Dick forced the half formed thought to a halt. For once, he rather wanted to be very, very wrong in how he perceived his family.

“What's with all the noise? Can't someone try to sleep like the dead without screaming?” Jason groused. “Should have gotten myself buried ag-OOF!”

“JASON!” screamed the hysterical teenager that had launched himself at a very lively dead body.

“Huhh? Hi, Timmy?” Jason said blearily, ruffling Tim's hair, eyebags suspiciously prominent. “... Fear gas?”

The blinking slowed, the fog of sleep drifting away as he silently begged the rest of them for an answer.

Happily provided by a still crying Tim. “I thought you were gone!”

“What is dead may never die,” Jason quipped, his mouth twisting in that cocksure grin from his Robin days.

And Dick wanted nothing more than to stop right there, pass out from the relief and joy of his little brother being alive and kicking, but...

But...

That joke. One of many morbidly unfunny jokes and puns.

Bone-deep fatigue crushed his back. A bitter curse for whatever higher forces messing with them echoed strongly inside his skull, before he gave in to the inevitable and inhaled a few times for patience.

“Jason. We thought you were dead-dead.”

With prickly, hedgehog style affection, Jason pushed Tim back and stood up, stretching. “Come off it, Goldie. I wasn't even decapitated. I mean, if you were really worried, you could have just called a necromancer or something.” His expression hardened. “But if you ever call a necromancer on my ass, I'll shoot your perfect glutes.”

Yup, yup, yup, this is happening.

Tim finally wiped the rest of the tears away, helped by one of Stephanie's handkerchiefs, when he froze. “Wait. Your skin's still pale as a corpse.”

The flicker of amusement in Jason's eyes killed it for Dick.

God, how could they have all been this idiotic? If Wally ever learned about this – Shit, did Roy and Kory know before him?!

They were going to laugh their asses off at him.

Jason, unaware of the world recalibration happening in his poor big brother's mind, shrugged and rolled his shoulders – who creaked suspiciously loudly, more like rusty hinges than normal body parts. “Eh, I'm just a bit hungry. Nothing a meal or two won't fix and get some blood flowing back under my s-”

“You're a zombie.”

They turned toward him.

“Way to cross the finish line on time, Mister Rabbit,” Jason drawled.

Barbara, for once, looked completely unprepared. “A zombie,” she repeated, dazed.

Stephanie's nervous giggle died out when she noticed the lack of humor. “... No!”

Cassandra furiously looked down, muttering in her fist. Duke, by contrast, had the expression of a person stuck in a very awkward nightmare.

Even Jason's good-natured ribbing faded in when faced only with the distant screeched of bats. “... Hm, guys, bats, roostery, parasites and octopi? This is old news. What's with all the... ”

He vaguely gestured at their faces.

“Old news?” Tim rasped like he was being strangled.

“I came back from the dead years ago! Come on! Am I in a parallel universe? Hey, Demon Brat,” Jason called, baffled, “you knew, right? I didn't imagine that, right?!”

“Of course, Todd. Mother informed me of everything. Besides, Grandfather's interest in your state of being was of interest for a few weeks. How could I have been ignorant about your zombified state of being?”

In the corner of his eyes, Dick noticed Tim's, Barbara's and Cassandra's expressions all pinching in displeasure. In a way, Dick was reassured. He hadn't been the target of a family-wide hoax to discredit him as an attentive and loving eldest brother. No, he was just naturally blind, apparently.

“He knew?” Tim growled, like it was a personal failing of the fabric of time and space.

Damian's tone was the exact opposite. “And none of you realized...?”

Dick squirmed. “I... huh... you see...”

His baby brother eyed him, completely unimpressed, and for once after years of partnership, Dick felt he deserved every single ounce of it.

“I see... I shall reevaluate the value of this 'detective training' I've been given if this is the result then,” he said, the nearest thing to completely disavowing his older siblings without saying so.

In other circumstances, perhaps the others would have demanded that Damian stay and explain, but he suspected the quelling look it would have deserved prevented them. Not one of them spoke until Damian had disappeared upstairs and the elevator doors had closed.

“Jason, since when have you been a zombie?”

Jason blinked, jaw hanging. Juuuust enough for some of the scar tissue on his face to stretch past normal. Why did Dick only notice that now?

“Wait, you're all serious? How could you not know? I told you guys!”

And there was Dick's pride rearing its ugly head, because no, no he had not been told and maybe his deductive skills needed a very complete overhaul, but his memory was still excellent!

“You never said that. Heck, we weren't even talking until two years ago!”

“I literally told you all that I crawled out of my grave by myself, groaning the entire time. No experiment, no Lazarus Pit, just a body waking up in its own coffin and deciding to breathe fresh air. Does that not scream 'zombie' to you?”

They cringed.

“Not the only one that returned from beyond,” Babs mumbled. He could see her pull up the mental list right there.

“I greeted you all last meeting with a 'What's up, my bat folks? It's me, your favorite zombie!'. What did you think that meant?”

“That you're an asshole with a morbid sense of humor?” Stephanie quipped, and Jason momentarily paused his indignation to high five her. Fair's fair.

“Okay, but what about that time I got shot in the chest and I told you all not to worry about it?”

“I just figured you were going to get stitched up by Leslie or yourself, you know, regular bat neuroses,” Tim confessed.

Dick made a mental note to keep a much closer eye on Tim's patrols for the next few months.

“From a bullet chest wound?” Jason asked with an incredulousness that was not at all earned, because he was a freaking zombie!

“I thought your armor had blocked it! The hole wasn't bleeding!” Tim protested, cheeks red and tone defensive.

“Well, yeah,” Jason replied. “I don't bleed. It's like some fruit pulp or something. Ain't coming out if you don't press. My heart's not pumping.”

That's a 'nevermind' on the smoothie I saved for after patrol.

“Well, I know that now,” Tim said.

“I feel like I should write it down on the plaque or something,” Jason still sounded amazed, and might have pinched his arm just to be sure he hadn't been daydreaming, “Like, 'a good soldier AND A VERY DISCRETE ZOMBIE!' in big flaming letters. With a spotlight. And a dictionary opened on 'Zombie' or 'Undead'. You know, just in case the next batbrat to come along needs a few subtle hints about my true nature. What'd you think, Dick?”

He could not have been blushing harder than he currently was. “I think shut up.”

“Of course. What about when I shoved my deadly cold toes at Tim under a blanket?”

“Cold feet.”

“Never eating around you guys?”

“Daddy issues with Bruce,” Barbara deadpanned, and got a sock thrown at her for her honesty.

However, Duke, poor kid, turned green. “Wait, so when you offered me some jellied brain... was that not a death joke?”

Dick's stomach spontaneously shrivelled.

By the grimaces and sharp inhales all around, that was a common reaction.

Then the worst possible thing happened: Jason grinned.

He strutted, all confidence and brashness, and viper-quick, snatched an arm around Duke's shoulder. “Narrows, Nightlight, my tiny bitsy bro, everything I do is a death joke. My very existence laughs at death.”

Inside the batcave, the groaning was long-suffering and shameful.

“But that was actually brains,” Duke countered.

“Yeah. Calf brains. It's a delicacy.”

Tim massaged his forehead. What a mood.

Duke narrowed his eyes. “It was purely for the joke, wasn't it?”

Jason patted him on the back so hard Duke faltered. “One tragically wasted on your obtuse mind. I prefer me some Tête fromagée instead. Less like grainy jello.”

Stone-faced, Barbara wheeled herself toward the batcomputer. There, upon a series of quick clicks, she opened up the Bats's files. “Alright, you had your fun. Do you need to eat brains or are you just the world's least funny meathead?”

“I'm the world's most misunderstood vigilante!” Jason loudly protested, milking their pain for all it was worth. And then some. “But yeah, I do. No grey matter in there” -- he tapped his belly -- “no thinking up here.” -- his skull.

“Need some better quality brains then,” Tim stage-whispered to Stephanie.

Cass pointed the finger at Jason. “No killing for brains.”

Jason's good humor flickered with a flash of green. “Ain't ever done it, never will. It's a matter of morals, not hunger, Cass.”

Dick swooped in that minefield before it exploded.

“Great! Proud of you, Jay! You're the good kind of vegetarian zombie,” he said, putting an arm around his ginormous little brother's shoulders.

Wait a minute...

“Hey, you're older than when you died! Zombies don't age.”

“No, I was thrown into a Lazarus Pit, and the evil waters cured the malnutrition-induced delay on my growth. Haven't aged a day since.”

“I just thought you had a weird babyface thing going on,” Tim said.

Jason's grin turned sardonic. “Quite the opposite, Timber.”

Dick put his head in his hands in some vain attempt to prevent his brain from leaking through his ears. With his luck, his little brother would 'playfully' eat some of it. “There's no way you look this rugged at biologically sixteen! I refuse to believe that.”

“Can you imagine my power if I'd been allowed to reach my full potential?” Jason leered, eyebrows waggling like waves in a sea at storm. “So many heart attacks.”

Barbara and Cassandra exchanged a silent look, and, after a solemn nod, Cassandra reached up to slap Jason upside the head.

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Barbara told her. “Jason, never do such a thing again.”

The disgruntled groan that followed must have been on purpose, because Jay was indeed an asshole.

“Besides, it's not like the world will ever know,” Tim said, cutting, a smirk hiding by his hand.

Dick really thought his little brother was far too relaxed upon learning that Jason was one with the undead. Sure, they had all encountered various levels of zombies during their missions, from all sorts of oral traditions and cultures, alien viruses and hidden nanobots piloting meat puppets. It wasn't even classified as a nation-wide crisis to encounter free-roaming zombies. But since the chronically unalive individual in question was one of their own, Dick felt he was owed at least a whole evening of frazzled panic and incomprehension for once.

“Oh?” Stephanie instead asked, sensing blood.

Tim shrugged. “Well, you know, no pulse, no blood flow,” he said with an angled eyebrow nodding at Jason's crotch

Stunned silence followed, their expressions varying from disgust, horror, unholy glee and, from Jason himself, wide-eyed shock that his shrimp of a little brother had had the balls to assimilate the zombieness fast enough to mock him for him.

Dick prayed for patience. For fortitude. And for an alternate timeline where he was an only child.

Why, for all the love of cotton candy and professional uncriminal clowns, did Tim put THAT image of Jason inside their brains? What had he done, him, a loving model for all of society, to suffer like this?

Maybe if he asked nicely, Jason would eat the image out of his head. He owed Dick that much after this clusterfuck of a conversation.

“Ooooooooh,” Stephanie crooned, miming getting dunked on. With acrobatics.

Jason huffed. “Like I was ever interested in the first place. I ain't Dick.”

“Okay, no slut shaming or virgin shaming, in fact, no shaming at all, please. In this house, we accept all sexualities, but we don't give out raunchy details about any of it, I only have so much brain bleach.”

“Share?” Duke pleaded in a whisper.

Oh, I wish I could, you young innocent soul.

A few beeps turned their attention back to Barbara and the batcomputer. “Well, that's one long overdue update to Jason's files. Anyone else want to share their 'obvious' medical condition?”

“Excuse you, being dead is not a medical condition.”

“I will make you wish for the peace of the grave, Jason.”

Droplets dripped from nearby stalactites.

A few bats flew overhead.

Jason turned to them like nothing had been said.

“Right. That was fun. Best night of my month. Can't wait to tell the Outlaws.”

Dick resigned himself to a series of unflattering texts by the absolute dickheads that were his second family. He could already tell the messages would blow up his phone to the Moon. 'You didn't know your brother that came back from the dead is a zombie?!'

“Have mercy and wait tomorrow morning?”

That smile could have been great or terrible. “You're lucky I'm in a spectacularly good mood, Dick.”

He had lifted his leg over his bike's seat when Duke was struck by genuine worry.

“Wait. Does Bruce know?”

Jason barked out a laugh.

“Of course he does! God knows he's got some massive blind spots, but he's obsessive, paranoid and I find subcutaneous trackers on me every week. No way he didn't get the hint before now.”

But, as his gaze went over the rest of them, his good cheer dimmed, his grin slipping off his face as surely as a bit of decayed flesh.

“... Right?”

#fanfic #Jason Todd #Zombie Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Batsiblings

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