#CURSE YOU BURNOUT!!

[comfortless]

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #konig fanfiction #i have been mulling over this for an eternity sorry it needed to be extracted from my brain #he is absolutely more lycanthrope coded to me but whoosh whatever nix König be upon ye #also apologies to everyone for not writing much lately and the fact this is hardly a real fic #cursed by the sleepy i just need a 10yr long nap #<- in my ‘in denial about burnout’ era

[here-is-kia]

I haven’t been writing for a while, I feel terrible about it. Since now I have always used my laptop and used Grammarly before uploading here. Right now it is 5:43 am, in the middle of Ramadan, school is closed because of it. I need to study, I know, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It takes too much of my time, and my efforts fucking always goes unnoticed. Expected, I know. My laptop is fucking broken and useless now, I can barely use it. Day by day I am losing my sanity because of it. I have no will whatsoever. I begged to die yesterday, crying and shivering. Pathetic. Couldn’t even stop. I wish my parents would see me as a human instead of a puppet who should just focus on their studies. They want the good for me, but what’s the point if every single word they make me want to crawl out of my skin? Staying with them for over three minutes is painful. I want to be myself. To be free. I can understand and see my mother’s thoughts, I can feel them. Like a hand is holding a vein between my heart and neck. It’s not fair. How my father treats my younger sister, how my mother is different to her. Few days ago, well actually two days ago- Me and my sister cried in each other’s arms complaining about life. She is fucking 9. Nine. She says life is too hard, how she thought pain is fictional. She saw a childhood video of mine, and it shocked her how different i had become. Trauma can change you, some people have it harder, you may not remember and intellectualise your past. My mother has a lot of opinions, and I know the existence of it. Just because she ‘loves’ me doesn’t mean I feel loved by her, she oversees my screams, and tears. I am genuinely disgusted by her. If I were a mother, I vow I wouldn’t be like her. She thinks she is the best in the whole world, she ‘thinks’ she lets us do whatever we want. She simply doesn’t ‘parent’ us. She never will. And my father is… ugh. Saying anything about him brings tears to my eyes, it fact there are tears in my eyes right now. He cares, but I did wish if he just left me fucking Alone. I want my own life. I fucking hate my parents. I am being ungrateful and don’t fucking care anymore. They simply don’t fucking understand how fucking hard it is to get these grades. How can ALL of your three kids be suicidal? One is 9, another is fucking 7 and tried to kill hi self with a knife. I don’t even know if they are blind or are just ignoring everything. Mother likes to hide from father. I hate her. I hate it when I tell her my grades and she doesn’t tell father, father thought I hide my grades from him. I didn’t correct him. It hurts. I have my ambitions and all, please just give me a fucking break. From all your fucking expectations and opinions. I hate my mother. I tell her I love her every now and then, I am simply lying. I joke around and shit, but I can’t stand it anymore. I am a Muslim, a mighty believer too. I can’t run away when I get older, no matter how much I want to. Maybe I can, hopefully. Though death seems more easy, still begging your God to take away your life but still let you go to heaven is like begging your teacher to let you leave the exam hall and still let you pass. When will I be free? When? Never? I want freedom, I hate my mother’s thoughts and opinions, I can fucking feel them. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin. She thinks she is the best mother there is, yet all she does she buy endlessly for her little dolls and argue how I have tons of clothes. She hates me, I am too ugly for her. I know. I hope she— no I don’t even want her to know about the pain she had caused us. She is too stubborn and would cry like a child. It’s sadly really, to be trapped your whole life. I can never be alone, I hate them. I hate taking the blame always. It’s not like my father is the capable man he thinks he is. I want to die.

Actually you know what? I don’t want to be away from a family, I want to spend time with a family, I want to joke around with a family(I mean I am already a laughing subject no matter how amazing my grades and weight are.) I just can’t stand this one. I am far too disgusted by them. Far, far too disgusted. In Ramadan, your Naf is still with you, maybe this is who I actually am. A pathetic emotional child. A worthless being. What benefit would my parents get from my successful future, that I do not know. I think they want me to succeed so they can feel like they accomplished something. I can never be my own person. I hate them. Even if parents have their own problems, their children still shouldn’t all be fucking in love with death.

Here, death is not a fear but a privilege. The children envies people who experience death. They want to physically(my sister said to me that day) harm themselves for attention. Please, you are fucking busy but you are a parent. They aren’t parenting, they are slacking off, giving us the basic human needs then taking a break. I was never enough, will never be. I am worthless, and if my fucking mother says ‘Oh Sweetie no! Who told you that!?’ In her honeyed voice, I will kill her. I probably won’t— but it will still be my breaking point js—

Freedom, heaven, today I saw a comment on a reel on Instagram, saying the prophet said life is a prison to the believers and paradise to the non-believers. It is kind of like a sign, of course life is not a paradise to everyone. I am doubting the authenticity of the translation. The last sentence doesn’t sound correct, it certainly is not from the Quran. It says ‘prison’ not hell, so I don’t think the is actually ‘paradise’. I did like how it said ‘prison’ though, a sign hopefully. It just gives you that shed of hope every delusional teenager with trauma likes to cling into.

-6:39 including time taken for tags :P

#vent post #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #mommy issues #daddy issues #older sister #eldest daughter #eldest sibling #the eldest curses #eldest child #synestia #personal vent #bpd vent #crying child #children #trauma #freedom #entrapment #burnout #they only like you when you are pretty- my nine year old sister #tw religious themes #religion #hope #hopelessly in love with death #suicidal themes #schoollife #teenagers #what is her problem #maybe one day

[lostlegacyuniverse]

So I hear that it’s MerMay...

#Dr. Cedric Coldwell #cedric #my art #my oc #my ocs #mermay art #mermay #I would like to personally thank Cedric for breaking my 9 month burnout curse #tumblr I'll end you for putting a white bg on my transparent png

[fancy--that]

#curse you mermay!! #but also thanks for curing my writing burnout??? #but curse you ov for octo! jefferson!!! #but also thanks for making me look up facts on octopi and writing half brained ideas at 2 am

[vault81]

reinstalling fallout 4, time to heavily mod it and play for a few hours before uninstalling !

#it’s my fo4 curse #I like the game #but I just played so much #I almost have permanent burnout from it? #I’ve never been able to overcome it #BUT this time I WILL romance Danse!!! #can’t guarantee I’ll do the BOS ending though #may just mod it so I can keep Danse #give him like a minutemen job for smn #ALSO I’ll finally recruit handcock as a companion #can you believe that it’s been nearly 10 years since fo4 came out and I’ve never recruited him once #I just never knew how lmao

[exar547]

sorry for the lack of art posting lately, my motivation to draw tends to dip a bit but i'll probably post something soon

#exar talks #urgh i wanna draw like 10 things at once but no motivation #curse you burnout

[stitchwraith-stingers]

its so hard being the mutual that is a fan of the most mid side series but someone has to fill that role

#calico.exe #someone needs to be a fan of the later faz frights stories #fetch this lonely freddy that... theyre both good i understand that #but u guys need to consider pizza kit and man in room 1280 #AND YOU GUYS NEED TO POST MORE GIRLS IM LIKE THAT ONE GREEK GUY WITH THE ROCK IM BEGGING #if only i wasnt in the forever burnout curse you guys would have been doomed #faz frights yaoi is good but have u guys considered faz frights yuri ......................... only me and bonnie approved post #SORRY i dont trust most people in the faz frights tag i dont know why #i think im being pretentious but whatever

[catboygraystripe]

worst part of new hyperfixation is the time before youve drawn any of them and youre too scared to in case its one of those times where you just fucking CANNOT do it properly to save your life but youre just like freaking out because you HAVE TO................

#i always forget my art skills have like. evolved since grade 10 though even though i often tell myself otherwise #ive actually got such a loose grip on what my actual art ability is rn though because i NEVER draw serious pieces anymore #curse you exhaustion and burnout and lack of motivation and executive dysfunction and boredom and overheating and frustration and fear and #lawl maybe uni next year will cause me to break and fully wrap around to being a person who draws again (to preserve my sanity) #drawing things outside of my comfort zone? nope. too scary. much too embarrassing as well. #fuuuuuuuuuck me right

[cloddot]

"ghosts au... is very very dead" EBI: Elaborate

ghosts au was a rtc au i started about a year ago now where i took the gimmick of bbc ghosts and tried to make it fit the uranium teen scream trilogy

it followed penny after almost dying while working on the cyclone after getting a job at the fair, with this near death experience giving her the ability to see the ghosts of the rest of the choir who all died at different points in history after riding the ride

honestly it was a really fun au to work on but i ended up not getting to make much of anything for it due to exams and now with my cyclone brain rot taking a backseat as of recent thanks to my starkid hyperfixation coming back full force its unlikely that im gonna be working on it any time soon

#curse you education and burnout for stopping me from working on my silly little projects :( #bobin babbles #my beloved moots

[haloraen]

I’ll have the most random headcanons for a fandom but then the moment I open this hellsite to write about them they just,, vanish. I can’t even open a Google doc without those thoughts disappearing like leaves to the wind and I can’t even complain as if this is a new feeling because it’s so incredibly common to so many people.

Anyways, time to go back to thinking about what-ifs for my favorite love deprived and touch-starved characters <3

#i feel that it is the curse of a troubled writer struggling from burnout and writer’s block #i just want to happily share my unhinged thoughts!! #my dumb little brain worms #my 3am shower-but-not-shower thoughts if you will #wait #then is it just called 3am thoughts?? #i am literally braindead #shitpost

[hellbornsworld]

Jungkook Fanfic Recommendations(7)₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊

☆ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲 | Tattoo artist/Piercer Jungkook X Pastel!Reader | @bonny-kookoo

☆ Mugs & Kisses | Jungkook x Reader | Barista Au | Oneshot | @minisugakoobies

☆ simply meant to be | pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader | OneShot | @caelesjjk

☆ beside you | idol!jungkook x gf!reader | Oneshot | @nochukoo97

☆ Fragment of the Past | patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader | thriller & yandere au | Series | @ctrlsht

☆ burnout | basketball player!jungkook x student journalist!fem!reader | Yandere | @aikastales

☆ 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 | Vampire! Jeon Jungkook X Human! (F) Reader | OneShot | @angllicjk

☆ angel in the marble | michelangelo!jungkook x servant!reader | high renaissance au | OneShot | @venusjeon

☆ love à trois | jungkook x fem!reader x jimin | Side: Jimin X Reader | @letjungcoook7

☆ you're losing me | jungkook x reader | Married Couple | @sparklingchim

☆ part time lover | investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader | Oneshot | @sketchguk

☆ STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME | Jungkook x fem!reader | Series | @hoseokieswrld

☆ cherry bomb | jungkook x fem reader | Oneshot | @retrievablememories

☆ your cursed thoughts | jungkook x reader | Halloween AU | Series | @smaubts

☆ UNWANTED | King/brother Jungkook × slave/older sister YN | @kangmoon27

☆ the seventh life | vampire!Jungkook x female!reader | @folkookie97

☆ champagne confetti | heartthrob!jk x fashion employee f!reader | @pennyellee

☆ Horizon | Angel!Jungkook x Reader | Two shot | @sokooks

☆ Whose idea was it, though? | Jungkook X Reader | @astayinwonderland

☆ First Prize | Boxer!Jungkook X Reader | Oneshot | @tsukisrants

☆ TERRITORIAL | yandere!Jungkook x Yandere Yn | Oneshot | @kangmoon27

☆ Movie Night | Jungkook x fem!reader | Yandere!JK X Reader | OneShot | @taevbears

☆ tethered. | emo!jk x reader | Series | @13lov

☆ gotcha | jungkook x reader | ChildhoodFriend Au | Oneshot | @whatifyoulivelikethat

☆ mate | alpha!jungkook x omega!reader | Series | @7deadlysinsfics

☆ 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Aged up!Jungkook X Younger!Reader | Series | @bonny-kookoo

☆ Slithered | Mafia Jungkook x Fem!Reader | Series | @bts-0t-7

☆ Self-Care Sunday | NailTech!Jungkook x Fem!Reader | One-Shot | @shina913

☆ animal farm. | Jungkook X Reader | OneShot | @joonberriess

☆ November Sun | Jungkook x reader | OneShot | @oddinary4bts

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊

Jungkook Recommendation Masterlist

#bangtan #bts imagine #bts ff #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #namjoon #bts masterlist #bts #bts jimin #jimin #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan sonyeondan #jk fanfic #bts jk #jk #jk recommendations #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #jungkook moodboard #jungkook icons #jungkook recs #jungkook reaction #jungkook reader #bts fanfic #bts army #bts icons #run bts #taehyung

[another-lost-mc]

When MC Feels Burnout/Emotionally Numb THE DEMON BROTHERS 4.1k words | SFW | gn!Reader | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Fluff & Angst A/N: The relationships between MC and the brothers can be read as romantic or platonic. The twins' sections are combined. ♫ [ MC's POV: Song Rec ]

─── LUCIFER:

Lucifer is concerned when you come to the dining room table for breakfast looking worse for wear; there's dark circles under your eyes like you haven't slept. You pour yourself a cup of tea and wrap your hands around the warm porcelain, but you don't drink it. Your breakfast plate remains untouched, and eventually you shuffle out of the room without a word.

He keeps an eye on you at RAD, but you're unusually withdrawn. You follow his brothers from class to class, eyes downturned and silent despite the lively conversations going on around you. Everyone walks home together that afternoon, but when he glances back to see how you are, he notices you’re lagging behind the rest of the group. He slows his pace to match yours, but you barely seem to notice; the walk home is silent.

When dinner time comes and goes without any change in your behaviour, he decides he needs to do something to snap you out of this little funk you're in. Later that evening, he invites you to keep him company in his study while he finishes his work. You accept in a monotone voice; it could be misconstrued as boredom, but he knows better.

Sometimes you read and listen to cursed records while he works at his desk, but tonight the random book you plucked off the shelf lays unopened in your lap. You stare unseeing into the fireplace, and your body is tense like you can’t relax.

He picks up something he was supposed to finish tonight—a folder full of documents to review and sign— but you barely notice when he sits beside you. He gives up all pretense of working when he places the folder and your unread book on the floor by his feet. He tucks you under his arm and pulls you against his side. You lean against him, a little reluctantly at first, until you start to relax. Your cheek is pressed against his chest and his heartbeat thumps gently beneath your ear.

He’s not sure how much time passes when you finally drift off to sleep. There’s something vulnerable about the way your body melts against his, and he wonders where he went wrong that led you to be in such a state to begin with.

He considers waking you so you can go back to your room to sleep. He contemplates carrying you somewhere more comfortable so he doesn't have to wake you—his room is closer, and maybe you won’t mind sharing a bed with him if it’s only for one night. Light and shadow from the fireplace dance along your skin, and you’re so warm in his arms; moving now seems like an impossibility.

A sore back in the morning seems like a fair price to pay when he decides to keep you exactly where you are. He maneuvers so carefully while he leans back against the armrest and holds you to his chest. He pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa and makes sure you’re covered before he closes his eyes. He doesn’t even notice that he syncs his breathing with yours, and he falls asleep not long after.

─── MAMMON:

Mammon eagerly tells you about his day—the things he bought, his wins at the casino, how his part-time gig is going—and he’s used to getting some sort of reaction from you (good or bad).

Today, you look at him blankly and tell him that’s nice in a quiet, emotionless voice that worries him. Having you scold him for being financially irresponsible (while you bite the inside of your cheek to resist the urge to smile) would be better than this. He’s stunned by your lack of a reaction, and you turn away from him when you’ve decided you don’t need to focus on paying attention to him anymore.

After dinner, he goes to your room and finds you laying in bed, staring at your ceiling and drumming the mattress idly with your fingertips. 

"Whatcha doin’?" he asks, even though he knows what you're going to say next.

“Nothing,” your quiet, flat tone replies.

“Good. Come on,” he says in a much chipper voice than yours as he grabs both your hands and practically pulls you out of bed. He leads you outside the front door where his car is parked, thrumming gently while the engine runs. He flips on the seat warmer for you and glances at you occasionally from the corner of his eye; he hopes you’ll melt into the warm leather soon.

“We're just goin’ for a little drive,” he explains, even though you don't bother asking where he's taking you in the middle of the night. The radio is streaming music from his phone, and he keeps the volume low. He nods towards his D.D.D. on the dash. “You can change it if you want,” he offers, and he’s not surprised when you decline.

He drives away from the bustling streets of the Devildom. The road is empty and the skies are clearer here, but he knows brief moments of tranquility aren’t enough to alleviate whatever it is that’s bothering you.

He’s never been good with words, but he rests his hand palm-up over the gear shift. He’s not sure you even notice since you’ve been staring out the window most of the drive. After a few moments, you surprise him and put your hand in his. He squeezes your hand gently before lacing your fingers together; it feels like a victory when you don’t pull away.

Every once in a while he squeezes your fingers between his, and he smiles at the dark, open road when you do the same.

─── LEVIATHAN:

Leviathan knows what it’s like to feel numb. Sometimes he feels that way when his self-imposed isolation wears him down. Talking to Henry and surrounding himself with his games and manga and toys isn't always enough to fill the black void of jealousy that makes his tone sharp and his fangs even sharper.

He gets that way when he thinks about all things he wants but doesn’t have—he notices you become this way from doing too much for everyone else until you lose yourself in the process.

Between the two of you, you should be able to find some sort of balance. He feels like you should both know better, but here you are, drowning in your own black void while he watches helplessly. He can barely help himself; how can he possibly help you?

For lack of better ideas, he invites you to his room to play games. Usually you’re so animated when you play together; you jeer at him when he spins out due to a perfectly-timed banana, or you toss your controller aside and tickle him when his shell knocks you out of first place.

That level of enthusiasm is gone today; you tap the controller pad in total silence. You don’t care when you come in last place, and you don’t care when Levi throws the match so you can win. He turns off the TV and shuffles on the floor so he’s facing you. You glance at him occasionally but go back to staring at your lap.

Levi hates it when you cry, but he hates this dead-eyed stare of yours even more. He grunts in frustration when he gets up suddenly and grabs a small tin off his desk.

“Come here for a sec, I could use your help,” he says, and he shakes the tin in your direction until you get up from the sofa and shuffle to his side. He leads you to the aquarium where Henry bobs peacefully in the crystal-blue water. Levi hands you the tin and unfolds a step ladder he keeps tucked away. He climbs the ladder carefully so he can open the window at the top of the tank.

You open the can of fish flakes when he asks you to, and he sprinkles a generous helping across the top of the water. You’re transfixed by the sight of Henry dashing through the water for his supper, and Levi can’t stop staring at you.

“Sometimes he’s good to talk to,” Levi mentions off-handedly. “Henry is a good listener.”

(Both his Henry’s are good listeners, Levi thinks.)

“What do you talk about?” you ask him quietly, still watching the fish eat the tiny flakes.

“All sorts of stuff. Anything you want—he doesn’t judge.” 

(You have that in common, too.)

Levi sputters a little, embarrassed by all the things he’s telling you, his little self-care rituals he normally keeps to himself. He thinks that even in your worst moments, like the way you are now, you’re still not nearly as pathetic as he is. You don’t deserve to feel like this, ever.

You glance away from the aquarium and meet Levi’s eyes just as tears begin to collect on his lash line. He clears his throat and takes the tin from you before putting it back on his desk. He pretends to organize things so he has an excuse not to turn around.

“Maybe you can come by tomorrow night and help me feed him again,” he manages to choke out.

A pause, and then you whisper, “I’d like that.”

Levi bites his lip to muffle his sobs.

─── SATAN:

Satan watches you during class and realizes you’re not acting like yourself. You tap your pen idly on the desk and stare at nothing. This is your favourite class but you’re not even listening.

Sometimes you come to his room after dinner and read, but not today. After school, you brush past everyone else and head to your room. He’s worried about you, and he’s not going to let you blow him off tonight. He knocks on your door, and your lifeless voice asks why he cares so much. He gets tongue-tied deciding how to respond:

I like spending time with you. You like reading nearly as much as I do and I don’t want that to ever change. It kills me to see you like this.

“It’s important to me,” is all he manages to say, and you must sense his desperation because you finally agree to follow him back to his room.

You sit on the bed while he picks the book off the shelf for you. You make a quiet noise of surprise when he places a pillow in your lap and lays down. Normally he reads to you, but his eyes are gentle when he holds the book out to you instead.

“Can you read a bit tonight?” he asks quietly. You frown and look like you want to argue, but he pushes just a little more—”for only a few chapters, okay?”

You take the book from him and pull out the bookmark when you find the right chapter. You glance down at him and when he smiles encouragingly, you start to read.

Your tone is quiet and dull at first, and your speech is slurred; Satan has trouble understanding you sometimes. He wonders if this was a stupid idea after all, but then you huff in amusement when you read a funny passage. He peers up at you and the little smile still tugs at the corners of your mouth as you finish the chapter.

You read another whole chapter after that, and Satan nearly melts in your lap when your free hand lazily combs through his hair as you read. Your eyes are a bit brighter when you finally stop reading and close the book.

“I can read a bit more if you’d like,” he asks you when he sits up. He almost expects you to refuse and shuffle away, but you nod and lay down when he sets the pillow in his lap for you to rest on.

He reads another chapter, quieter and slower than usual, and he stops reading when you fall asleep. He sets the book aside and moves you gently off his lap so he can settle into the space behind you. He drapes an arm loosely over your waist and contemplates other ways he can help you feel better.

─── ASMODEUS:

It breaks Asmo’s heart to see you like this. Your lovely complexion betrays the long days and poor sleep you’ve had. Your warm, shining gaze is dull. Your brow is creased with little lines and your mouth is downturned—he misses your easy smiles the most.

Sometimes Asmo feels like a ghost when he smiles at you but it feels like you see through him, not really acknowledging him or anything else around you.

He switches apps on his D.D.D. when he sees your message ping the group chat. You say that you’re not cooking dinner tonight (no explanation given) and that Lucifer should use part of your allowance this week to order food for everyone instead.

Asmo doesn’t blame you for not wanting to cook for seven hungry demons, but he has a suspicion that you plan on locking yourself in your room all night and skipping dinner for the third night in a row.

(You might’ve been at the dinner table every night this week, but he noticed that you just moved the food around in your plate without eating anything.)

No, he won’t let you do this to yourself. He understands wanting space and having lazy days, but that isn’t what this is. This is isolation and sadness and exhaustion, and if he feels this upset seeing how affected you are, he can’t imagine what you feel—or don’t feel—inside.

Asmo sends a quick message to Lucifer and asks him not to order anything for dinner just yet. Worst case scenario, Asmo will cave and order dinner for everyone later—but for now, Asmo marches to your room with a plan instead.

You’re buried under the covers when he lets himself into your room. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights; he can see you perfectly without them. He sits down slowly on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on your hip.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” he asks quietly, and normally you laugh away his pet names for you, but today you shrug under the comforter instead.

“M’fine,” you mumble into your pillow.

“I could use your help with something,” he says, leaning down closer to your ear. He presses lightly against the side of your body like a poor imitation of an embrace. “How about you get up and keep me company, hmm?”

You’re quiet and don’t say anything, and Asmo’s hopeful smile starts to drop when he thinks you’re ignoring him. After an awkward minute of silence, you sigh and turn your head slightly towards him. “Help you with what?”

He’s not going to give you the chance to change your mind, and he stands up and reaches for your hand. “I’ll show you in the kitchen.”

Asmo steers you towards a barstool in the corner of the kitchen so you can relax while he makes dinner. He has an assortment of ingredients spread out across the counter. The family recipe book is opened to one of your own additions added to the back pages. 

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” he grins and winks over his shoulder at you. “I’ll cook tonight, and if I get stuck, who better to help than you?” He taps his chin thoughtfully and takes his D.D.D. out of his pocket and hands it to you for safekeeping. 

Asmo might not be the most skilled cook among his siblings, but he’s confident enough that he follows your recipe correctly—for the most part. If you didn’t know him better, you would think he was exaggerating his movements and adding commentary to each step to be silly. But you do know Asmo, and you recognize this as his natural playfulness when he does something he enjoys. 

Nearly twenty minutes later, there’s splatters of sauce on the front of his apron and he adds more salt and pepper to the pot with a flourish. When he turns his head to check on you, his mouth purses in surprise when the flash on his phone camera lights up the room. He blinks rapidly when he realizes you took a picture.

He jabs the stirring spoon in your direction with a playful glare. “I hope you got my best side,” he jokes. He’s self-conscious about the spices he knows that got in his hair somehow, and there’s something sticky on his cheek.

You slip the phone into your pocket and slide off the stool so you can reach for a clean cloth. You run it under the lukewarm tap for a moment, and your lips twitch into a smile when you wipe away the smear of sauce near his mouth. 

“You’re doing great,” you murmur quietly, glancing at the pot simmering on the stove.

“Does it smell good enough to eat?” he asks nervously, and he beams when you nod.

He wraps his arms around you and laughs as he hugs you as tight as he can. He knows the apron is making a mess on your clothes, but he doesn’t care. Neither do you, apparently—you wrap your arms around him after a few moments and hug him back.

─── BEELZEBUB & BELPHEGOR:

Beel walks to his room dejectedly, and not even the bags of treats from Madam Scream's hanging off his arms makes him feel any better.

He invited you to go with him to the pastry shop after school today. He knows you're not eating properly, but that combined with your bleak mood and dull expressions convinces him that there's something wrong beyond not being hungry.

He watched you during meal times every day this week: you shuffled your food around on the plate and didn't eat anything, or you took little nibbles out of something then dropped your fork on the plate with a sigh and left the rest uneaten.

He went to the bakery after school today, alone. Even though he invited you, you said you weren't in the mood and walked home without him. He bought a few boxes of his favourites, and some for his brothers to share, and he bought a half-dozen Blood Velvet cupcakes especially for you.

He knocked on your bedroom door when he got home and told you he had a surprise, but he was met with silence. He heard the faint creak of mattress springs, but you didn't come to the door and you didn't respond. He frowned, but he explained in the cheeriest voice he could muster that he brought you some cupcakes.

“Thanks, you can have 'em, though,” your muffled voice replied through the door. 

It’s an understatement to say that Beel is extremely concerned about you.

He walks to the room he shares with his twin. Usually Belphie naps in the attic after school (more often than not, he convinces you to nap with him). It’s a surprise when Beel finds Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed with his pillow in his lap, and his eyes snap to his brother’s as soon as the door closes.

“They're not eating enough,” Beel tells his twin. He sets aside the boxes of pastries he bought, his appetite and mood completely soured.

“They're not sleeping enough either,” Belphie replies. He doesn't tell Beel about your sleepless nights, but his brothers would have to be blind not to notice your haggard appearance and the dark circles blooming under your eyes. You haven't napped with Belphie in over a week either, and he misses you—but he keeps that complaint to himself.

"What can we do?" Beel asks as he drops heavily on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and runs a hand through his hair.

Belphie is quiet for a moment, and he glances at the boxes of abandoned pastries Beel brought home. "What’s the plan for dinner tonight?"

Beel looks up and scratches the back of his head. "Some of the others are busy so Lucifer said it was a free-for-all night."

(That usually means everyone orders takeout while Beel eats whatever is left in the house himself.)

Belphie stands up and tucks his pillow under one arm while he wanders over to the stack of bakery boxes near the door. He rifles through the bags until he finds the one he's looking for, and he gestures for Beel to follow him. "I have an idea. Come help me in the kitchen."

It’s peaceful in the deepest corner of the House of Lamentation gardens. Even if the others were home, there’s enough distance from the house to offer peace and privacy—it's nice out there.

Belphie thinks a picnic might be relaxing enough for you to enjoy; the hard part is convincing you to join them. The twins are determined and they both go to your room and insist you have dinner with them.

“You have to eat something,” Beel says in a pleading voice, eyes sorrowful with worry for you. It wasn’t quite enough to convince you to get out of bed, but you swallowed around the lump in your throat as your eyes burned with emotion.

Belphie crawled onto the bed next to you, dangling over the edge precariously while he reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “Please,” he whispered, eyes just as sad as his twin’s, “it feels like I haven’t seen you all week. I miss you.”

You can’t possibly say no to both of them, not when Belphie’s face is so close to yours and his lower lip trembles with too much emotion. You know he can be manipulative, but even in your bleary-eyed daze, you realize he’s being unusually honest now.

You wipe away the stray tears that pool in the corner of your eyes and nod your head. Belphie slides off the mattress so Beel can help you up, and they both hug you before they lead you outside. By the time they take you to the garden, you’re all sniffling quietly, but the twins are smiling a bit now, too.

The blanket Belphie lays across the ground keeps you from getting too cold, and you all share portions of the improvised picnic the twins packed: sandwiches, a thermos of warm soup, a container of diced cheese and poison apple slices. You don’t eat as much as the twins do, but they look content that you finished eating everything on the small plate you made for yourself. 

Beel offers you one of your cupcakes next. He brought the whole box—optimistic, Belphie said earlier, raising his eyebrows before shrugging and putting the box into the basket.

You sort of remember Beel knocking on your door earlier and asking you if you wanted one, and you know that you refused. You accept one now because you can’t bear to say no to him twice.

When the food is eaten and the dishes cleared away, Belphie lays back on the blanket and gently nudges you to lay beside him. He rolls onto his side and lays his head on your shoulder, and you can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye. 

“Have I told you the story about that star?” he asks quietly, pointing towards the sky.

He probably has, considering how much time you both spend in the planetarium together, but you lean your cheek against his brow. “You can tell me again if you want to.”

He tells you the story about that star, and the other stars near it, and when your eyes start to droop heavily with sleep, he smiles and keeps going. He whispers more stories until your breathing slows and you start snoring gently in his ear; he hopes the stories follow you into your dreams.

Beel sits nearby on the large blanket, watching over both of you with a keen eye and soft smile; his belly is warm and full from a pleasant meal and your company. Belphie carefully maneuvers himself to his knees without waking you, and he stands up and stretches out the kink in his neck. Beel stands and lifts you so gently into his arms, and he cradles you to his chest while Belphie hurriedly packs up the picnic basket and blanket. 

The house is dark and quiet when they slip back inside, and Belphie leads Beel to your room. They both tuck you in—Belphie pulls back the covers and Beel lays you down and slips off your shoes. Beel squeezes your hand and waits for his twin by your door; Belphie murmurs a final goodnight as he brushes his lips across your forehead.

The twins head back to their room, and all three of you have the best night's sleep you've had in days.

#obey me demon brothers #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor #belphegor x reader #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me headcanons #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader

[hugshughes]

this is me trying L. Fantilli

Luca Fantilli x fem!reader

synopsis - You just want Luca to know that you're trying.

wc - 2.5k

contains - cursing, academic burnout (self reflection...), crying, not feeling good enough, reader has an older brother, um suggestiveness??? (reader makes one joke), that's it! LMK!

an - im so sorry i kept you guys waiting... but happy thanksgiving, forgive me im so thankful for you guys. this was a bit more self indulgent than my other fics... THIS WAS SO LATE BECAUSE i wrote 2000+ words then they didn't save and so i literally cried over it and couldn't write for the rest literal week whenever i came back to it i was upset, like i was that sad guys. and i really don't love this because it just isn't as perfect as the first one i wrote was. anyways hope you love this!

-

i've been having a hard time adjusting. i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting.

You were sick. Not like physical illness, go to the doctor and get medicine sick. You were sick of waking up every day, going to the same classes, eating the same food, coming home, sitting alone in your dorm, then falling asleep and doing it over again. But you couldn't afford to do anything else at the same time. If you wanted to get the grades you needed to pass your current classes, you were going to have to work your ass off.

You were always considered gifted. You took advanced classes all of high school, attending college-level courses in your junior year. Even in your freshman year at Umich, you passed with flying colors, but now, now it was different. You don't know why classes were so much harder now, and it was especially hard because everything had always been so easy.

Even with all of this, you had Luca. Luca had been your boyfriend since October of freshman year. He'd always stood by your side no matter what, but now it felt different. He'd never seen you like this, struggling so much with things you were known for being good at. You remember him telling you how proud he was when you had gotten a 98% on one of your final exams last year, you were worried he wouldn't be proud anymore.

As a child, you were conditioned into thinking that better grades meant better treatment from your parents. Your brother had been a star student always until he'd slacked off senior year and ended up going to a college he was way too smart for. When that happened, your parents decided you wouldn't be like your brother. You would go to a good school, and get good grades, and in exchange they would love you, at least that's how it felt.

i didn't know if you'd care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that.

All the love you'd ever known was for a price, your parents', your boyfriend's, even your brother's it was like you had to be good enough before they would consider you lovable.

You never felt this from Luca, but you never gave him a reason to think otherwise. You'd always been this smart girl for him, a girl he bragged about to his friends. The girl he could go to for help in classes.

You didn't mean to be pushing Luca away, but you were so stressed and didn't want to bring him into it.

I know I already said you weren't sick like an illness, but right now you felt gross. You were stuffy and coughing and had a pounding headache, but you had assignments due at 11:59 pm and they couldn't wait. It was 9:03 pm and it didn't look like you were gonna get any relief from class work for a while longer.

pulled the car off the road to the lookout. could've followed my fears all the way down.

You didn't even know you were crying until you saw tears fall onto your iPad screen, where you were currently writing notes for a quiz you had tomorrow. You felt completely helpless. You couldn't stop and let yourself wallow, because you had to get moving on your study guide.

You dropped your Apple Pencil and just buried your face in your hands, rubbing your eyes till you saw stars. Your pity party was interrupted by your phone ringing. Your phone was on your studying do not disturb so if someone's call was coming through it had to be Luca's.

You quickly tried to steady your breathing before swiping to answer the call.

"Hi?"

"Hey. So, what's with you totally skipping my game? You know that meant a lot to me."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How did you forget? You were the worst girlfriend ever.

"Oh my God, Luca. I'm so fucking sorry, it completely slipped my mind, oh my God, I didn't even know. I had a really long day, baby, I'm so sorry."

You were trying not to cry even more, you didn't want Luca to think you were a crybaby. Crybaby. That's what your parents called you whenever you got like this, too much for them to love.

and maybe i don't quite know what to say,

Luca just sighed, upset. He was upset with you, and you couldn't fix it. You could hear rustling on Luca's end, and another voice. All of a sudden you were seventeen getting a call from your nineteen-year-old boyfriend while he cheated on you, while another girl laid with him.

but i'm here in your doorway.

You didn't think Luca would do that to you, you really knew he wouldn't. But that one part of you was just screaming that you'd proven yourself unworthy to him, that he was done.

i just wanted you to know,

"I just, I don't even know anymore. You haven't consistently talked to me in weeks, every time we do speak you're in your head, and you keep pushing things off and forgetting. I just don't know what I'm doing wrong here."

Fuck, you couldn't stop the floodgates now. You quickly sniffed, holding the phone away from you so he wouldn't hear, soaking the cuff of your sweatshirt sleeve with tears before trying to respond.

"No, no Luc, you're not doing anything wrong. The last month has just been tough, I just don't know how to tell you. I'm trying Luca, I am, and I'm sorry. I know it doesn't fix anything and you still have every right to be angry with me, I understand why-"

this is me trying.

"Hey, it's whatever, just don't worry about it."

No. No this couldn't happen like this. He couldn't be checking out of your relationship right now. You needed him, even if you didn't know how to tell him. You accidentally let out a whimper when you tried to speak, before shakily breathing a deep breath and trying again.

"No, it isn't. I'm not being good to you. I just- Fuck Luca I'm sorry I didn't mean to forget, and I'm not meaning to be such a bad girlfriend I just, there's just,"

"Just what?"

"I don't know how to tell you! I don't want you to think differently about me Luc. You've never seen me like this."

Your trauma was truly shining through, you were terrified of Luca thinking you weren't smart.

"Are you like uninterested now? You could just tell me, not lead me on! Not just ghost me!"

"No Luca! I love you so much, I'm in love with you. I just-"

You cut yourself off, letting out a stressed sigh, rubbing your eyes when you felt the tears prick in them.

i just wanted you to know,

You didn't know what to say, it was so complicated. Every time you ever tried to talk about this with your family they shut you down, told you you were wrong for feeling like you did, and you didn't want Luca to think those things too.

"I just can't do this stuff anymore,"

"What?"

this is me trying.

"I'm just not smart anymore, and everything is so hard. And I don't know how to talk to you about it 'cause I don't want you to think I'm not smart, but I don't think I am anymore."

"Oh, baby."

Luca was stunned, his girl was going through something and he was upset with her over a hockey game. He thought you were beginning to distance yourself from him because you started to be uninterested in him. He never would've assumed you were doing it because you were scared to talk to him. He never would've assumed you were scared he would think less of you.

"Hey, it's okay. Everything's gonna be alright, okay? How about I come over? We can talk more about everything and I know I'm not the brightest guy when it comes to all of your stuff but I could try to help. That okay, pretty?"

"Yes. Please, Angel. Need you right now."

"Okay, give me a couple minutes, I'll be right there. I love you, okay?"

"I love you, Luc."

Luca let you hang up, taking a deep breath and sitting for a moment just to take in what had just happened. He had a bad feeling in his stomach now, knowing how you were hurting. He quickly recovered and got up, putting his shoes and a hat on backward before leaving his dorm.

He walked fast through campus to get to your dorm building, the cold motivating him further. When he got to your dorm building, he quickly went up the stairs, taking two at a time, and to your room. You were in a single this year, so he wasn't worried about a roommate being bothered by his presence. He knocked on the decorated door gently, bouncing on his feet waiting for you.

they told me all of my cages were mental, so i got wasted like all my potential.

Luca could've sworn he felt his heart break when he saw your face, the exhaustion mixed with sadness wearing you down. He didn't say anything before jumping to wrap his arms around you, just holding you for a minute. You clung to him so tightly, you'd missed him so badly while digging yourself into a hole of isolation.

"Hi sweet girl."

You could've started crying again. He held you gently but firmly, and it was all you ever needed. You felt yourself relax for the first time in two and a half weeks.

and my words shoot to kill when i'm mad. i have a lot of regrets about that.

"Hi Luc"

You sniffled, and Luca just melted. He pulled away from you just a little, pulling his arms away so he could cradle your faces in his palms. You brought your hands up to rest on his wrists, rubbing your thumbs back and forth.

"I missed you, pretty."

You missed him like a little kid. But it was your fault you were ever apart.

i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.

"I missed you. 'M so sorry I isolated myself from you, I'm so fucking stressed right now. Everything is hard and it's scary 'cause it's never been hard like this for me, and I-"

fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here,

"I know baby. It is scary. College is just scary. And you are like the smartest girl I think ever so I know it's like even scarier for you when things don't make sense quickly, but it's gonna be okay. Because you have your amazing, talented, stud of a boyfriend to help you."

pouring out my heart to a stranger. but i didn't pour the whiskey.

You gave him a look, laughing for the first time in many days.

"He is pretty amazing, and talented, and hot, isn't he?"

i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying. i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.

He nodded reassuringly, before putting his hands on your hips and pushing you back into your room, closing your door behind him.

"Damn, you just got here."

"Shut the hell up."

You laughed as you climbed up onto your bed, pulling Luca up next to you after he took his shoes off.

at least i'm trying.

"So, about this class. What do we need to learn?"

You explained how tonight you only really needed to do two things, finish a paper that was 75% done, and do another assignment that if you could figure out how to understand the concept, would be done in no time. You both snuggled close together while looking at the paper, Luca helping you through sentences you got stuck on. You finished the paper quickly, then pulled up your notes for the concept of the other assignment.

and it's hard, to be at a party when i feel like an open wound. it's hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you.

At one point Luca took your laptop to read through the notes so you just turned over and rested your head on his chest, before seeing his gorgeous hair covered by a stupid hat grabbing it off of him, and putting it on your bedside table.

"No hats in my room."

"What? Since when?"

"Since I want to see your pretty hair, not the maize and blue hat I see every other day."

Luca just laughed, shaking his head and running his non-scrolling hand down your back. Luca somehow understood the concept and reiterated it to you in a way that made everything click. He was your good luck charm, you knew it. Everything made sense with him.

you're a flashback, in a film reel, on the one screen in my town.

You made him lay on your chest with your laptop resting on his back while you completed the assignment. One hand was in his hair while the other was gliding across the keyboard. You finished it in 20 minutes. And your chest felt so much lighter after you hit the submit button.

You closed your laptop, sliding it onto the floor before putting both of your hands into Luca's hair.

"I knew you could do it, baby. You just needed someone to tell you that."

"I love you."

"I love you so much."

Luca's arms around your middle tightened, and he moved his head to look up at you.

"I know you feel like you have to be this perfect person, baby, but I need you to know you don't have to do that for anyone, especially me. Because you are everything, and I can't take care of you if you're scared to talk to me about how you're feeling. I know your parents and other people make you feel like if you don't do good at school they will love you less, but you need to know that you could flunk out of school, and you would still be the most important person to me, okay?"

i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.

You were crying. You pulled him somehow closer and hugged him so tight, pulling away after over a minute to give him a good long kiss that expressed your gratitude. Because you were, so fucking grateful. This boy had seen all of it, and still chose you, and would continue to choose you until his last breath.

(and maybe i don't quite know what to say,)

"Thank you, Angel. You don't know how much hearing that means to me. I love you, so so much."

"You're everything. I see that you're trying, and that is always gonna be enough."

i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying. at least i'm trying.

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[cherryslyce]

By NEWTS & Nott | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The stress from studying for your NEWT level classes has you spiraling into confusion from burnout, and perhaps, simultaneously inspiring a certain slytherin to approach you. But it was all a coincidence, right?

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Gryffindor!Reader

Notes: Cursing, Affection (oh my goodness). I love Theo. Like my mind is constantly just <3 Theo <3.

The gloom that permeated through the air was unusually suffocating. The grey clouds that scattered across the almost equally dull sky left little room for enthusiasm to float about. Many students were beginning to fall into the pattern of procrastinating on their essays, the notorious wave of burnout that swept through the student body every year was at its most unforgiving. 

This year seemed almost worse than last year’s and you were sure it has already done a number on you. Hermione, ever the scholar, was amongst the very few who were managing fairly well for the most part. Your frizzy-haired friend was currently sitting across from you in the library, face buried in a book as she mumbled quietly, albeit furiously, about Harry’s sudden overwhelming success in Potions.

You yourself were quite impressed at Harry’s new penchant for the subject and you weren’t sure if his newfound success had anything to do with having a Potions professor who didn’t seem to loathe his existence or if he was suddenly gifted by mother magic with a potions mastery. 

NEWT level classes were definitely proving to be a challenge for you, and your head was pounding from trying to make sense of the Runes assignment in front of you. You weren’t Hermione by any means, but you would consider yourself to be another top student in your year, having a particular talent for Transfiguration. 

“‘Mione, maybe Harry just studied a little bit extra or something. Besides, it’s a great thing that he’s thriving, especially in potions. Merlin knows this spurn of success was needed given his previous record.” 

The girl’s head shoots up at your words, eyebrows drawn in frustration, “But Y/N, it just doesn’t make any sense! I followed the instructions exactly! Harry said he did as well, so why are all of my potions off?” 

Ah, ever the perfectionist. 

As she continued her tangent, her voice began to slowly rise in volume before her last words were bouncing around the bookshelves and causing other students to turn towards you. 

“Mione, please speak a little lower! And it doesn’t matter, you’re still the top student in a lot of the other classes anyway. Besides, Slughorn is still impressed with your work regardless, that Slug Club invitation is proof of it.” Your hushed whispers seemed to quell her and she nodded along, seeming to accept your encouragement. As if suddenly feeling the burning gazes being shot at the two of you, she quickly turned and apologized silently to everyone she disturbed. 

As she turned back to the book in front of her, you slowly looked around to rest your eyes. As your gaze flitted to the table next to yours, your eyes widened as you made eye contact with a familiar slytherin. 

Of course, it just happened to be him of all people. 

Theodore Nott happened to be one of the very few students in your year who could match Hermione’s academic prowess. You remembered starkly him beating out Draco and Hermione in Charms and Runes last year, shocking your friend group immensely– Hermione most of all. He was often seen walking with Draco and Daphne Greengrass, but he kept to himself for the most part. Despite his quieter disposition, you heard his name whispered often by girls who were longing to gain his attention and affection. 

And from the way he carried himself, it was obvious that Theodore Nott was an impressive wizard. 

He also just so happened to be staring at you at the current moment, no doubt having been disturbed by Hermione moments earlier. 

Slapping on an apologetic smile, you nod to him before turning back to your Runes assignment. 

Nope. Not awkward at all.

Your heart was beating furiously in your chest and you were beginning to fear that its quickened pace would either cause you to pass out or be loud enough for him to hear. You had never really talked to the boy, only being able to recall moments of fleeting nods and awkward eye contact between the two of you. 

Of course, that didn’t stop you from admiring his talents and his admittedly, above-average looks. You also appreciated his tendency to ignore people rather than berate and bully them like other slytherins in your year. 

You were sure that he at least knew of you, if not due to your involvement in Harry’s circle, then due to your consistent residency at the top of the academic hierarchy.

And a little part of you did hope that he took notice of you, not that you’d ever admit it aloud. 

–

The bags under your eyes could probably carry the weight of the troll you accidentally concussed in your first year, the unforgiving curriculum chipping away at the amount of rest you got every night. 

The library was unusually empty that evening, allowing you to peacefully sigh and slam your head into your books without looking like a complete maniac. Moving your head from side to side to try and relieve the tension in your neck, you move to slap your hands over your cheeks. 

After you were done waking yourself up, you drew your eyebrows together and began to tackle the large chunks of small text. 

‘Often mistaken for each other, the words ehwaz and eihwaz have different meanings, partnership and defense, respectively.’ 

You were definitely not making much progress with your Ancient Runes work, and you were growing increasingly anxious about the upcoming exam as you could slowly feel yourself slipping in the class. 

Feeling a prickle on your forehead, you shoot your gaze upwards and suppress a startled gasp as you lock eyes with an amused Theodore. 

When did he get here? Wait, did you get here after him? If so, how did you not notice him until now?

Perhaps, your sleep deprivation was beginning to interfere with how you function. Your lapses in memory were concerning enough for you to think of reining in your hours of daily study. As you slowly close the textbook in front of you, you watch as Theodore’s eyes dart to observe your sluggish movements. 

Clearly taking pity on your hunched form, he observes you for a few more moments before sliding over a sheet of parchment. Feeling your fingers twitch in suspicion, you carefully eye him before deciding that he wouldn’t try to blow you up or anything to that degree. 

As you read through the paper, you feel your mouth part in shock as you realize that it was an organized chart of notes on the words you were struggling with. Theodore Nott had just given you his notes like it was the most casual thing in the world–and they were his nice notes too. 

Feeling a smile pull at your lips, you shoot your head up to thank the boy, only to find the chair across from you vacant. Looking around your table, you’re only met with endless rows of bookshelves. You were left to your lonesome again, the paper in your hand being the only assurance that you hadn’t hallucinated your interaction with the quiet slytherin. 

Quickly packing up your notes and books, you carefully slide Theodore’s notes into your folder as you exit the library, parting with a quick farewell to Madam Pince. 

Briskly walking back to the Gryffindor common room, you shake off the strange interaction in favor of contemplating what a disaster your next Potions lesson is going to be. It was pretty formulaic by now with Harry finishing flawlessly, Hermione wandering out of the class with a lost look, Ron flying by the seat of his pants, and your constant thoughts of giving up and laying your head down. 

Potions had transformed from a tense, strict environment to one of the most entertaining in a matter of just a single year. You respected Snape’s intellect and proclivity in Potions, but his prejudices diminished any inkling of passion you had for the subject. 

–

You were correct in your assumption that the class would go exactly how it always went. Currently, Ron’s cauldron was smoking up a cloud that put Seamus’ usual catastrophes to shame. As you ran your finger along the list of directions for the umpteenth time, you realized that you were missing a stem of Baneberries. 

How you missed it, you could only ponder at another time. You were bustling about frantically, running on a couple hours of sleep, and feeling beside yourself. 

Eyeing your cauldron, you estimated that you could probably run to the storage closet and nick the stem quickly without causing too much havoc by leaving it unattended. Moving from around your table, you quickly weaved around frustrated Gryffindors and confused Slytherins and towards the high shelves of glass jars in the back of the room. 

You were getting dizzy from scanning the identical towers of jars, all the labels suddenly merging together. 

Baneberries would be near the top since all the ingredients were sorted alphabetically. Looking around for the ladder, you jump out of your skin as you nearly bump into a sturdy figure behind you. 

Holding your chest from the scare, you peer at the person only to be met with a familiar pair of amused eyes. 

Sucking in a short breath at your luck, you shoot a sheepish smile at the boy, “Nott. Hello. I didn’t notice you there. Sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush, I forgot one of my ingredients.” 

Theodore raises an eyebrow at you before partially sidestepping you, reaching up towards a shelf behind you. You gaped as you realized he was crowding you against him and the shelf, unable to wiggle around the small gap he left. 

Just as quickly as the awkward moment began, it ended, and Theodore was backing up and gingerly pushing a small stem of red and white berry clusters towards you. 

Eyes widening in shock, you carefully grab the thin stem, accidentally pinching his cold fingers in the process, “Oh, shoot. I’m sorry. Er…but thank you, Nott. I should really go though, I think my cauldron might explode if I delay any further.” 

Practically bouncing on the spot, you don’t wait to hear his response before you’re maneuvering around his figure and scurrying back to your table. Luckily, your potion was still boiling away and even looked salvageable. 

“It’s perfect! That bright pink is spot on, very good Harry, my boy.” Slughorn’s jubilant voice carries around the classroom and you could see many students suppressing their groans at Harry finishing first and flawlessly, once again. 

You purse your lips to contain your laughter as you see Hermione look more than mildly distressed before schooling her expression, shooting a small congratulatory smile at Harry. 

What a proper mess. 

Snorting quietly, you remove the stem from your berries and slowly add a few at a time, stirring the concoction three times counterclockwise. Unlike Harry’s tart pink potion, yours begins to melt into a magenta color, and you have half the mind to step back just as it gives a little rumble, a small puff of smoke shrouding over the circumference of the cauldron. 

Safe to say, that is not what’s meant to happen.

Unsure whether to mourn your failed potion (once again) or not take it too seriously, you opt to just do both, and drop your chin into your hands, laughing dryly at your fate. 

Quickly cleaning up around your work station, you risk a glance across the room and make eye contact with Theodore who looks vaguely entertained at your failed  potion. 

Later, Harry’s bottled potion is being presented by Slughorn at the front of the class, everybody gathering around in a semi-circle to see the result. As you shuffle from leg to leg, you feel a firm chest press lightly against your back. Before you could spin around on your heel, you sense their head moving towards your ear.  

“You forgot to turn down your flame and add the stem of your Angel’s Trumpet.” Theodore’s whisper sends shivers down your spine and you have to cross your arms in order to stop yourself from physically reacting. 

Turning your head slightly towards his face, you huff out in exasperation, “I’m not surprised, I was pretty much running around like a headless hippogriff.” 

You wryly smile, becoming accustomed to classroom failures. Luckily, it seemed that the wave of burnout was finally letting up for a few weeks before your NEWTS, so you could catch up on sleep beforehand. 

A breathy laugh leaves Theodore’s lips imperceptibly and you have to fight back the pleased grin threatening to pull at your face. 

Soon, Slughorn was dismissing class and you were all free to head to the dining hall for lunch. Spinning to head back to grab your book bag, you shoot a small smile at Theodore, “Nice chat, Nott. Thanks again.” 

Before you’re able to brush past him, he mutters a simple correction to you, “Theo.”

“Theo. See you around.”

– 

Your little exchange in potions doesn’t go unnoticed and before you could even stack up some potatoes on your plate, Hermione is dropping herself down next to you with a curious glint shining in her eyes. 

Raising an eyebrow at her enthused expression, you’re unsure if you’re walking into a trap as you respond, “What’s up, ‘Mione?”

Hermione leans a little towards you before quietly whispering to you as if she was sharing a heartfelt secret, “You know what. I saw you and Nott during Potions.” 

Craning your head back to look at her, you suppress the groan itching at your throat as you realize she had her mind set on getting information out of you. 

“It’s nothing of that sort, ‘Mione. He was just giving me tips on my brew is all, apparently I forgot a key ingredient. I’m a proper mess and it seems to be catching the attention of other houses.” You breathe out quietly, beginning to push your food around on your plate. 

Hermione grins like she knows something you don’t and replies with finality before scooping food onto her plate, “Well, he’s seated rather far away from us, don’t you agree? I wonder how he knew what you did wrong.” 

Her words have you pausing as you straighten up in your seat, shooting your wide eyes to her satisfied face. 

Sweet Merlin, she wasn’t called the brightest witch of your age for a half-hearted reason. In a way, you wanted to smack yourself for not realizing sooner despite how glaringly obvious it seems in hindsight. 

How did he know what you did wrong?

– 

It’s been a week since your potion incident with Theo, and you’ve been actively avoiding looking in his direction since that day. You absolutely would not focus on the boy, you couldn’t afford a crush, especially not one on one of the most eligible bachelors of your year. 

Plus, a crush would be detrimental to your grades, and you had barely just recovered from your chronic sleep deprivation. 

Unfortunately, your active avoidance of the boy only made him drift through your head more often. You even caught yourself writing his name mid-sentence while you were doing your Transfiguration essay. 

At the current moment, you were sitting with your friends in the common room, listening to Harry rant about Draco, once again. It was entertaining, but you could feel Hermione shooting small glances at you from time to time, still remembering your incident with Theodore. 

Crossing your arms, you finally speak up as Harry stops to catch his breath, “Harry, are you sure you’re not just interested in Malfoy? No one pays this much attention to someone without having a crush on them, I mean seriously, how do you even know how Draco likes his apples?” 

Harry gapes at your words, fishing around for a logical rebuttal, but you can see how his eyes widen in realization. Ron seems plenty amused by Harry’s flailing and leans back like a satisfied wingman, even though you were the one who did all the mental gymnastics for Harry. 

Hermione raises her eyebrows at your words, turning to face you before echoing your words quietly, “Yeah, no one pays that much attention to someone without it involving a crush.” 

Shaking your head, you dismiss her insinuation, “It was one lesson, ‘Mione. I doubt he’s looking to court me or anything.” 

Your words grab Harry and Ron’s attention and they suddenly lean over to you for an explanation. Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you successfully harden your resolve despite their puppy eyes. 

Realizing that you were going to remain tight-lipped, Hermione decides to enlighten them, “A certain slytherin has taken interest in Y/N.” 

“Oh please ‘Mione, I’m telling you that he’s just really observant and really good at potions.” Your last words catch a little in your throat. 

Hermione grins like cheshire cat, having successfully roped you in, “Sure, and him giving you his nice notes was just a casual ordeal as well.”

Ron and Harry swing their heads back and forth between the two of you, eyes brimming with anticipation. 

Ron seems to have reached the end of his patience and grabs hold of your forearms, shaking you playfully before exclaiming, “Well don’t just keep fighting, tell us who!” 

Huffing in defeat, you dart your attention to the fireplace as you satiate their curiosity, “Theodore Nott.” 

Harry falls back on the floor and releases a noise of surprise while Ron’s hands rip away from your arms and fly to his face. 

“What? Is it that surprising?” Honestly, you were mildly insulted.

Harry is the first to speak, shaking his head reassuringly, “No, no, it’s just, you’re not considering it are you?” 

Tilting your head, you’re quick to reply, “What do you mean? I mean I don’t consider it as a possibility, but what’s so wrong with Theo?” 

Ron gapes in shock, “Theo?” 

Hermione looks at the both of them sternly before turning to you, “I think what they’re trying to say is, Theodore might be bad news. I haven’t the faintest clue why they’d feel that way though.” 

Shaking your head firmly, you shoot down their apprehension, “No way, he’s probably the most tame out of that friend group.” 

The boys don’t look convinced, but Harry concedes with a quiet, “If you’re sure.” 

Tired of the conversation, you stand up from the sofa and stretch your arms above your head, “Enough about me, it’s about time for dinner. Let’s head to the dining hall and talk about Harry’s crush on Draco.” 

“It’s not a crush!” 

—

It’s the very next morning after your conversation in the common room when something bizarre happens to you again. You had successfully evaded Theodore for a little over a week, and sometimes you could feel a pointed stare aimed at you. 

As you’re pouring orange juice for yourself during breakfast, a letter drops in front of your plate as everyone gets their post. Confused by the envelope, you cast a charm to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with before picking it up. 

There wasn’t a sender address on the envelope, but as you neatly tear it open and unfold the paper inside, you realize that you knew exactly who it was from. 

The words were neatly written on the paper, and even without the letter’s content, you already recognized the penmanship. 

Meet me after dinner tonight? Astronomy Tower. 

Don’t worry, you’ll be back before curfew. 

P.S. Do you need my notes again?

Unable to stop yourself, your head shoots up and towards the direction of Draco’s friend group. Immediately, your eyes lock with Theodore’s and he sends you a small smile, tilting his head subtly to ask for your answer. 

Slowly nodding, you feel warmth flood your face as he breaks into a pleased grin and his eyes twinkle in victory. His expression catches the attention of his friends as they all immediately stop their conversation and follow Theodore’s gaze. 

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your face as you’re suddenly under the scrutiny of the slytherin circle. Surprisingly, Draco doesn’t jeer at you but rather smirks at you ominously, but surprisingly not with malice. Blaise and Pansy look back at Theodore and whisper furiously, their words seemingly so obscene that it tears Theo’s gaze from you and to his smiling friends. 

You weren’t sure if you should be worried. Swallowing down your nervousness, you carefully fold the letter back up and tuck it away into your book bag, keeping your head down for the rest of the meal. 

– 

Your day seems to pass by in a blur, and soon enough you’re rising out of your seat during dinner, eyes trailing to glance at Theo, whose attention darts to your rising form. 

Harry raises his head to look at you in confusion, “You’re done eating already?” 

Nodding quickly, you plaster on a reassuring smile to settle your nerves, “Yeah, I’m just going to go take a walk. I’ll meet you guys in the common room before curfew.” 

Your friends bid you farewell and you pace out of the hall, seeing Theodore push his plate back out of the corner of your eye. Not ready to face him quite yet, you pick up the pace as you head towards the Astronomy Tower, head filled with racing thoughts. 

As you enter the top tier of the tower, you walk towards the ledge to look at the sky, deciding to just leave the door open for Theo. 

A few minutes pass before you hear footsteps approaching you, your shoulders tensing in anticipation. 

Theodore slowly makes his way to stand next to you, resting one arm on the stone ledge and maneuvering his body to face you. Unable to face him just yet, you opt to break the silence first, “So, why did you want to meet with me?” 

“I thought you would have figured it out by now. After all, you’re quite brilliant.” Amusement colors his tone, and you were sure he was smiling at you right now.

Feeling your brain lag at the sudden compliment, you turn your head and survey him with questioning eyes before finding your voice, “It’s not like you to do all this.” 

His lips tug a little at your attention, “Like what?” 

Turning your body to face him fully, you’re keenly aware of the warmth emanating from his body, “Like approaching people you’re unfamiliar with and giving them your notes. Asking them to meet up with you at night. Helping them with their potions. You’re not possessed are you?”

Theodore’s nose wrinkles in amusement as his smile seems to grow impossibly wider, “So you watch me too. But no, I’m not possessed. I think we both know what the deal is though.” 

Dropping your shoulders as your nerves seem to turn to jelly, you release a shaky sigh, “Then, you like me too?” 

Your eyes flit across his face quickly, watching his eyes widen slowly. Smiling at you in fondness, he carefully brings up his hand to cup your face, his cool rings soothing your burning cheek. 

His thumb slowly brushes across your cheek and he steps closer to your figure, leaning to close the distance between your faces, but leaving just enough room to have you wanting more. 

His gaze flickers between your lips and eyes, finally breaking through the silence that settled between the two of you, “Yes, I like you too. Have for a while.” 

You can’t fight your smile, and Theodore seems to be unable to wait any longer, ducking his head further towards yours, “Tell me to stop if you’re not ready.” 

Laughing breathlessly at his words, you bring your hands to rest behind his neck, tugging him closer to close the faint gap between your bodies, “Not a chance in hell.” 

Theodore brings a hand to wrap around your body, quickly connecting your lips. His firm grip on you has you melting against him, and you’re sure that the world completely stopped in that moment, nerves running like fireworks in your body. 

You both break apart for air, donning identical grins of bliss. Unwilling to let you stray too far, Theodore doesn’t loosen his hold and opts to softly nuzzle his nose against yours, occasionally planting kisses on your cheeks. 

Rubbing circles on the back of his neck, you softly laugh as you suddenly remember something, “Hermione was actually the one who helped me realize that you liked me.” 

Humming at your words, Theo only pauses briefly from kissing your face to answer, “Remind me to thank her.”

Smiling softly at his clinginess, you pull your head back to get a good look at him, “Didn’t realize you were the affectionate type.” 

His eyes are hazy from bliss, and he cranes his head forward to try and bring you back to him before answering, “Hm, well the last week has been rough with you avoiding me. ‘M making up for it.” 

Your laugh echoes around the room, urging Theodore to lean over to nip at your ear, “What’s so funny?” 

Carding your fingers through his soft lock, you have a fleeting thought about curfew before you brush it aside to answer him, “Nothing much. Just didn’t think you would get pouty about it.” 

Reeling back at your words, his mouth parts in playful shock, “I don’t pout, baby.” 

“That’s good since we should get going before the prefects head out.” Your words are met with a loud groan and Theodore does the exact opposite of your suggestion, deciding to instead bury his face in your neck and cling onto you. 

– 

“Oh bugger off! He was being the biggest baby of the century all week long, ‘I don’t pout’, my arse.” Draco’s crude words have you dropping your mouth into your hands to muffle your laughter as Theo was left to gape at his friend’s words. 

Pansy nods in agreement and grabs your free hand like a relieved mother, “Trust me, I don’t know what you see in him, but I’m so glad you’re here now.” 

You beam brightly at the girl, coming to realize that your previous anxiety about meeting Theo’s friends was just a waste of energy–they were nothing like your presumptions. 

“Happy to be here. I was honestly driving myself mad all week trying to avoid Theo.” You don’t miss the wounded look the boy throws at you as he begins to tug on your elbow to try and drag you away from his friends. 

“Theo? I remember when I tried to call him that once in third year and he nearly incinerated me.” Blaise raises his eyebrows teasingly at your deflated boyfriend, unable to resist poking fun at his usually stoic friend. 

Huffing a small laugh, you interlace your fingers with Theo’s before stepping back, “Dating privileges, Zabini. Now, it was nice talking with you guys, but Theo might die from embarrassment if we linger around.” 

You barely manage to say your farewells to the group, before Theo is steering you away by your shoulders, muttering up a storm about his friends. 

“Don’t be lax just yet, dear. You still have to talk with my friends, remember?” Your reminder has the boy straightening his posture, evidently unsure with how to approach making conversation with your capricious group.

“They’ll like me, right?” You nearly melt into a puddle at his words. 

“Hermione? Yes. Harry? Maybe. Ron? Not a chance. But I like you, and that’s all that matters. Besides, Ron is too scared to incur Hermione’s wrath to threaten you, so he won’t try to hex you or anything.” Patting his chest reassuringly, you begin to drag him through the castle, set on finding your friends. 

Smiling to yourself, you were sure that your sudden relationship with the slytherin would encourage your friends to confront their own crushes. 

“Oh, I think I see them! Theo, you can’t get out of this with your puppy eyes, now come on!” 

masterlist

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagines

[wicksend]

Wick's End Masterpost

Set in a fantasy RPG, selfless soldier Glendale cheats death at the cost of living on with a curse. Now 6" tall, he quests with his personal servant Harry (a dog that has mysteriously turned human) and comrade Freya to find cures for their respective ailments.

▭|═══════ﺤ

A lighthearted fantasy adventure story that transforms its zany premise into a meaningful exploration of the burnout experience. Wick's End is SFW and for all audiences, with occasional themes of substance usage.

( Webcomic by @eightyuh )

Pilot Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 (Coming soon)

Please refer back to this original source of this post for updates!

What was your inspiration to make this? The story is based off of a dream that I had.

When will the comic be updated? There are 10 planned chapters total, but it will only be updated when I feel inspired to do so.

Can I draw the characters? Yes! Just keep it SFW.

What kind of dog is Harry? He’s an Australian Shepard!

NOTICE:

You are welcome to submit Tumblr asks to the characters!

N*S*F*W / K*NK DO NOT INTERACT

Glendale Goodwyn (Toyhouse) (Artfight)

Harry (Toyhouse) (Artfight)

Freya Ferguson (Toyhouse) (Artfight)

Glen and Harry pre-story (2)

Bathing

All Alternate Universe depictions are tagged under #WICK'S END AU

Genderbent (2) (3)

Tiny Harry AU (0) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

As Dogs (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12)

Dungeon Meshi Crossover (2)

All fan-creations can be viewed under the tag #WICK'S END FANART

Majora’s Mask, The Dark Crystal, Princess Tutu, Ranking of Kings, Angel's Advocate

Special thank you to Zoe and Dani, my story editors & info-dumping confidants

#WICK'S END #webcomic #eightyuh #glendale goodwyn #freya ferguson #harry

[angelatsumu]

simon as your allistic husband

hello friends, i am autistic and i wanted a little allistic husband for my own comfort. this may be slightly unrelatable because autism is a spectrum and autistic people experience overwhelm and meltdowns differently. here is my interpretation of my experience (a very small picture of it).

cw: none, autistic reader x allistic!husband!simon riley<3, johnny is a bit overwhelming, overstimulating stimuli + potential meltdown

simon had always been your self-proclaimed protector. he was like a devotee the way he watched you, always keeping an eye on your mannerisms and responses. simon was on his knees before you with just one beck and call, and you knew this to be true in your heart of hearts. your lover, your beautiful simon, was privy to your disability and the way it could render you helpless with no regard for your plans for the day. in an effort to be an “adult”, you might overwork yourself directly into overstimulation or autistic burnout. if you had tried to mask well past your limits in social situations, you found yourself stimming in secretive but painful ways, and perhaps even losing all social awareness as a whole. you constantly cursed yourself for not getting a service dog to help you through these scenarios, but why would you when simon was at your side so quickly? simon knew you like the back of his hand, easily detecting the signs fo your withdrawal or teetering on the edge of insanity. Simon was so equipped to care for you, constantly studying your fidgeting and tone in any situation.

tonight was no different. Simon had asked if you felt comfortable with a small gathering of the Task Force after a bit of time apart, and you willfully agreed. you thoguht you’d checked all of the boxes to prepare yourself for the evening; you’d rested all day, gathered your stim toys and fidget rings, remembered to drink water (with several small reminders from simon), and you even ate an appropriate amount of foods to fuel you for social interaction. Simon was sure to allow you time to indulge your special interests and give you space without overwhelming stimuli. you’d felt pretty equipped for the night, especially since simon had ordered your comfort foods and even prepared a special nook incase you felt a bit overwhelmed. with earplugs in ears and a comfort outfit, you felt far more prepared with the help of your understanding lover. the overwhelming dread that usually accompanied social gatherings seemed to melt away with your anchor who was more than helpful in refilling your cup and taking care of you.

just as everyone was arriving, Simon was sure to dim the lights in the bedroom and set aside a bottle of water with your favorite stims to allow you a safe place. He hated to assume that you might approach metldown territory, but he’d learned that preparing for it is far better for you than simply hoping for the best. He’d taken the liberty of safety proofing the room, giving you a sensory swing and a cushioned corner to prevent you from harming yourself if the meltdown is to worsen beyond his control or interventions. He hummed as he made easy work of it, being sure to charge your headphones and queuing up a playlist you adored to allow you less work during a time of distress. goodness, he loved you so much. he loved doing this gentle and domestic work for you, and he loved the safety that came from his efforts.

it’s now well into the get-together, and Simon has you nestled into his chest. you find the smell of him grounding, and the compression of his arms squeezing around your torso makes you feel safe and comforted. your ears began to sting at the constant and overwhelming timbre of Johnny and Gaz’s bickering, seemingly infiltrating your brain and sowing seeds of hate. you’d tried to fidget with Simon’s dogtags or the hem of his shirt, but the constant booming of their voices had begun to sink its teeth into you. Simon was never loud, and he certainly never yelled in your vicinity without warning. your chest felt tight as you began to feel your clothes rubbing wrongly against your skin every time Simon had a hearty laugh at his coworkers. you squirmed in an attempt to regulate yourself, to move the painful energy you’d been harboring since your nervous system began to fray. the interaction was tiring, draining you of all your humanity as you had to pretend to be interested in the topic of conversation. your breathing shallowed, breaths quick and uneven as you tried your hardest to stave off the boiling under your skin. suddenly Simon’s skin against yours felt wrong, like your nerves were set aflame and stealing the little reserves of normality you’d been clinging to. you didn’t want this happen, you never did. you’d spend every waking moment post-meltdown crying and begging the skies above to “fix” you, to make you less susceptible to these painful experiences. you didn’t want to feel lie this anymore, to hurt anymore.

Simon feels the shift in energy, having stealthily been observing your descent into uncharted territory. he knows where your mind space is, knows that your mind is ricking you into believing you’re too much and that things were easier without you. the way you slightly fled his touch led him to slowly and sneakily withdraw his arms from you, placing them behind his head to allow you to be freed from his grasp. he relishes in the sigh you let out, the way you teeth latch onto his shirt and begin to chew away to calm the nerves. Simon calmly reaches to his right where your spare ear defenders are tucked away, and he slowly slides them over your head. he makes quick work of tying back your hair to lessen the amount of stimuli you had to process. your lover lessens his own chatter, reducing himself to careful nods and short sentences or small laughs to allow you a full realm of recovery. he gives you two taps to your back, a silent inquiry to your current state. you respond with a head shake, signaling that you were far beyond your capacity. simon could tell that your thoughts were being unkind to you, but he was certain he could help you through this difficult period. “they alright,” Price asks, eyes kind as they fall on your frame in Simon’s grasp. the men knew you were autistic, and they were more than supportive to you. Simon sighs, eye soft as he looked at the men and back at you. “Yeah, i think they're just pushing toward overload. ‘m gonna take them to the room, let them get this out,” Simon hums softly, timbre of his voice lowered to create less strain. He gives you another silent tap as a request to carry to your bed, and you nod softly against his chest. his chest dims the lighting of your living room, lessening the stimuli you’ve been taking in. Simon scoops you into his arms and carries you to your bedroom where he gently sits you on your bed. the lights have been dimmed, and Simon slides your weighted blanket closer to you. “Blanket’s here love. ‘M gonna let you have some space, but i’ll be back to check on you soon. ‘M so sorry this happened lovie, but I love you. You’re safe. I am not angry with you, and you’re allowed to feel these things,” He comforts you, placing your stims within reach as your eyes fix on the floor in front of you. He knows words have left you, and he hums before leaving the room to allow you time to process.

thank you for reading! if this experience does not feel very cloe to yours, please feel free to send a request with a different scenario of autism reader x allistic simon <3

#autistic reader #disabled reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #simon riley x reader #simon riley fic #simon <3 #soft fic rec #autistic reader x simon #simon riley headcanons #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #disabeled reader x simon #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #simon fluff #mac mail <3