#I mean I know I’m stuck on this but this is really what GALLS ME

[generic-whumperz]

The Aid: Chapter 2- Belligerence

TW: BLOOD, bone break, gore, hurt/no comfort, knocked unconscious, male whumpee, male whumper, alcoholism, drunk whumper, creepy/overall bastard-ass whumper, captivity/enslavement, starvation, basement, collar and chain, knife, non-lethal stabbing, thoughts of accidental murder, non-con clothing ripping (non-sexual), talk of organ removal, literally TW’ing everything I can think of but if I forgot something let me know.

Word Count: 1683

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Wyatt Sullivan smiled and laughed triumphantly, spearing the rest of the knife all the way through The Aid’s shoulder until it butted against the cement flooring. The Aid’s body convulsed from the sharp, hot, searing pain bolting from the stab wound; blood rhythmically gushed out with each palpitation of his heart.

His weeks’ old tattered shirt was evermore stained with a fresh shade of crimson as he lay in an expanding pool of his own blood.

“That’s it, pup, let it out,” Sullivan encouraged, moving his hand down from The Aid’s jaw to his neck, right above the collar.

He squeezed lightly, not enough to cut off his airflow, but just enough for him to feel a light constraint. Sullivan would leave his hand like this, posed in insidious conquest, fingers placed on The Aid’s pulse and just feel him tremble and writhe beneath him. Something about The Aid’s rapidly pounding heartbeat excited him, reminded him of a small prey animal you could hold in your hand and crush if you so chose to.

“So, how will you repay me, you ugly little mutt?” Sullivan finally said after marinating in The Aid’s shrill sobbing for a couple of minutes.

“How- however- you- want s-sir,” The Aid croaked between blubbering cries, hoping to placate his Keeper.

“I-I need money, Mutt; I need my fucking car. How are you gonna help me get either of those things?” Sullivan asked, voice choleric and threaded with gall.

The Aid gulped helplessly through labored breaths.

“I-I could sell you…,” Sullivan whispered, more to himself than to The Aid. The Aid’s eye widened, not in fear, but in hope.

An end to this hell?

Sullivan’s brow quickly furrowed. “Parts of you, I mean,” he sneered, quick to snuff out any notions of his servant escaping to a happier life. “No one would buy you in-in this state…but, but I bet I could get a pretty penny for what’s inside though.”

He adjusted his grip on the knife's hilt and yanked it out of The Aid’s flesh with a wet slicing sound; the auditory effect was hard to ignore. The Aid squealed and thrashed again- fueled by nothing but a fleeting zap of adrenaline- this time freeing his left arm, which instinctively shot up and clutched his pierced shoulder. His shaky hand was immediately drenched in warm, sticky blood as he tried to apply pressure to the wound to help stop the bleeding, but without the knife plugging up the gash, a steady gush of sanguine leaked from The Aid’s upper half.

He felt like a stuck, bleeding animal in a slaughterhouse.         

Sullivan wiped the blood off the knife on The Aid’s shirt before cutting the fabric down the middle of his chest and lightly trailing the knife’s tip down his sternum, paying no mind to his blood loss.

“You do have two kidneys, and well, ya only really need one.” Sullivan took a thoughtful moment to consider his options. He sat up, removed his hand from The Aid’s throat, continued the rip down to the bottom of his now useless shirt, leaving him completely bare-chested, and felt around his concaved abdomen.

“Gah, fa-fuck, where da hell are tha kidneys ’nyway?”

“S-sir-” The Aid pleaded wearily, fighting his feeling of lightheadedness, a fight he was slowly losing.

“No, ya dumb little bastard, I-I’m not gonna carve ya up right here an’ now!” Sullivan protested defensively. He glided the knife down to The Aid’s exposed, bruised belly and circled his navel.

He smiled devilishly.

“But I-I will be takin’ one’uf ya’er kidneys ta‘marrow.”

The Aid whined before turning his head to the side, facing away from his tormenter. His eyelids grew heavy, and he was getting sleepy. Well, he was always sleepy; the pernicious side effects of starvation, untended injury, and illness would render anybody in a perpetual state of fatigue. But now, he was losing a substantial amount of blood while in an already anemic state. His blurred vision further weakened and now blackened at the edges. His limbs were tingling; they began tingling some time ago, but the sensation grew more intense, and he felt as if the static stuck in his hands and feet was slowly creeping up into his arms and legs.

He felt his pulse thrum in his throat and follow his breath, wavering between fast, hiccupy inhales and slowed, wheezy exhales. His blood felt as if it were being pumped in the opposite direction while the rushing sound of something akin to a waterfall engulfed his ears, blocking out all other sounds around him. His body was weak, indubitably succumbing to the litany of traumas that wracked him.

He had been forced to play a dangerous game of ding dong ditch on death’s door; was death finally standing on the other side, looking through the peephole and waiting to catch him in the act?

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, HEY!” Sullivan screeched, watching The Aid’s eyes roll to the back of his head. In an act of desperation, Sullivan struck him across the face in an effort to drag him back to consciousness. The Aid all but croaked weakly in response before drifting off into a dreamless abyss as his head drooped to the side. Sullivan pounded his chest, doing nothing but further aggravating his broken rib, yet he continued to hit and scream at the beaten and bloodied servant underneath him, hoping that his eyes would shoot open at any moment. 

To his dismay, they didn’t. . .

Fuck.

Did he do it? Did he finally kill him?

His desperate fingers felt for a pulse in The Aid’s neck. . . there it was, weak and sporadic, but a pulse, nonetheless.

He felt a small layer of tension release; sighing, he surveyed the knife wound- then, he noticed the small trailing stream of blood branching off from the puddle of dark liquid The Aid lay in, a pool that had grown a considerable size and now stained his pant legs.

He put the knife down and, with two hands, grabbed The Aid’s shoulders, pulling him forward to sit his slack body upright. Carrying the momentum, his spine hunched forwards, the only thing stopping him from doubling over was Sullivan’s chest that his head rested against. Red still poured out his shoulder gash in the same sporadic pulse that matched his irregular heartbeats.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sullivan exhaled, more annoyed than anything. It wasn’t that he was a stranger to beating The Aid unconscious and leaving him down here, but this time he was spewing out blood like a nicked water line. He considered getting up and going, abandoning The Aid to a sure death. . .

What would his life look like without him?

It was not that he valued the servant’s life or cared for him in any capacity, surely, but he concluded that he wouldn’t want to deal with his rotting, stinking corpse if he were to expire down here. 

Would The Aid haunt him? Reclaim this house for his own? 

Sullivan didn’t want to deal with expelling a possible poltergeist, so he mentally settled on trying to stop the bleeding and bandaging him up the best he could, hoping that would be enough. He didn’t have the money to take him to the clinic, he let his chattel insurance lapse, and his servant was well past his 90-day health guarantee- over half a decade past. Hell, he didn’t even have health insurance for himself. 

Perks of being an American; God bless. 

If he died… he fucking died, but not if Sullivan could help it.

'Gotta get Mutt upstairs. . . compress. . . stop, stop bleeding. . . get a sewing kit, stitch ‘em up. . . gauze, get the gauze and that wrap. . . wrap ‘em up. . . put ‘em in the spare room. . . nah, he won’t run. . . he couldn’t get far. . . no one would want ‘em. . . no one would want this ugly, stinkin’ little mutt. . .'

He palmed at his side belt loop in search of his carabiner key ring; finding it, he singled out a small key that he brought to The Aid’s collar padlock, then with a single twist, the collar and chain dropped to the floor. Sullivan reclipped his keys to his belt loop as he dismounted The Aid; a hand held him upright so he could crouch down and scoop him up, hoisting his enervated body in his arms to carry him bridal-style.

Quite some time had passed since he last carried The Aid, but he was noticeably lighter, at least by 10 pounds. He couldn’t be more than 125 pounds soaking wet; that was light, even for his slight 5’6” frame.

He was immediately met with a head rush from standing too quickly- that, and he was still drunk. He had to take a moment to brace himself and the added weight in his arms. He wavered momentarily, dragging a foot out in front to regain his balance as the blood and alcohol and gravity had to reacquaint themselves.

With staggering baby steps, he passed the stairwell base and continued climbing to the ground floor. Now at two-thirds of the way to the top, his stomach growled and violently churned, causing him to burp a deep-bellied belch that tasted of beer and Chex-Mix, with a hint of salted sunflower seeds.

He leaned forward, feeling his gut flip over on itself and expel bile that hit the back of his throat. He puffed his cheeks out, tightly clenching his mouth shut, and shook his head in an attempt to will himself not to vomit.

Dizzy. So dizzy.

It all caught up with him in an instant.

His foot slipped on the next step. 

He felt a pull backward. 

He dropped The Aid.

He threw his arms out- reaching, grabbing, clutching nothing but air.

His body tumbled over and over on itself, the edges of each stair nipped at him, until finally, with his body’s full momentum, his skull violently collided with the basement floor.

Crack.

More blood was spilled that night.

Sullivan joined The Aid in a night of restless slumber. 

He would have more than a broken car to deal with come morning.

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#whumpblr #whump #whump writing #whump blog #The Aid #GenericWritez #Wyatt Sullivan #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #tw creepy whumper #tw sadism #tw blo0d #tw stabbing #tw stab wound #tw stab mention #basement whump #creepy basement #tw near death #tw blood loss #blood loss #tw talk of organ removal #tw death threats #tw alchoholism #alcoholic whumper #drunk whumper #tw captivity #captivity whump #collar and chain #tw collar #tw g0re

[im-poe-dameron]

ASTERISM | REBELLION'S HOPE

a/n: it's been awhile since chapter one, but seeing the andor episodes made me really inspired. i also just take forever to write anything. i am very excited about this chapter in particular, because i've yanked an old star wars oc out of an old fic and put him in here. the chapter isn't fully edited, but i tried my best. enjoy! (also how fucking good was the start of andor?!)

there are some minor andor spoilers in here!!

summary: dying by way of dire cat isn't how you thought you'd go, but life has a funny way of turning things on its head.

word count: 5.1k+

pairing: cassian andor x fem!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, talk of death, the makings of a crush, tension.

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Death by Dire-cat. Not the most phenomenal way to go out, but then again was there any death that could be labeled as just that? You had hoped that you would at least survive a few more years on this planet before something took you out. But alas you were stuck dying here—never able to escape. The relief in this entire predicament was knowing you wouldn’t be dying alone. That had always been your absolute fear.

Facing death without anyone beside you.

Even though you knew it was impossible to not go it alone, there was something hollow in the realization that going by yourself truly meant the end. You supposed it was only fitting for a situation like this. For half your life you had been on your own, left to fend for yourself as you waited for a family that would never return back to you. Only now—you were standing beside a Rebellion pilot and watching as a Dire-cat stalked towards you. The image nearly brought a sickening smile to your face. How poetic that this was going to be your ending.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you whispered to him, unable to tear away from the scene in front of you. “I’ve never wanted to die alone.”

His head turned, regarding you with a look you couldn’t see. If you had the gall, you would have shifted to face him. You would have seen that the words you just uttered unknowingly, held more of a meaning than you expected for the both of you. Cassian Andor, respected Rebellion Captain who held no fear of death, no fear of when the end might come.

Or so he liked to believe.

“How do you know we’ll die?” he asked, sparing a glance at the animal who stopped a few feet away from you.

“It seems fitting. The death of a person who has dreamed of nothing but freedom. Now dies because of it.”

You weren’t sure where any of these innermost thoughts were coming from, and you did nothing to stop them. Beneath the layers of everything you tried to keep protected, you realized that this was how you felt all along. Not so much fear of death or abandonment. No, it was the fear of never having lived at all that set your heart skyrocketing into a sickeningly fast rate. What was life to someone who never had a taste of what the word actually meant?

“We’ll get out of here,” he replied, the blaster still clutched tightly in his palm.

“You know I never believed it existed.” His befuddled expression was enough for you to continue. “People say that the hope of a Rebellion can be seen in a single person. I never actually thought it could be possible. Thanks for proving me wrong.”

He gaped at you, eyes wide with disbelief. Cassian was never one to think about that and yet now he found himself realizing that you were more right than he’d ever been. Hope was stored not only in the symbol of the Rebellion, but in every person who decided to lay their lives down for the cause. To fight for something far greater than them and finally see a galaxy made free. It’s the choice he made long before he was even old enough to understand it.

It would have been a choice you made as well.

The Dire-cat sprinted forward, leaping into the air and taking you with it as you raised the blade to slash into its underbelly. The shout from Cassian told you that he was firing the blaster, but the tough exterior of the animal’s skin made for a very good barrier. You wanted to fight back, to scream in horror, and yet all you could do was lie there beneath it, watching as the animal lowered its head towards you.

A cold nose pressed against your cheek followed by a puff of hot air and you were sure that this was it. The Dire-cat was merely checking to see if you were worthy enough to eat. That is…until a shrill whistle echoed in the air, freezing the cat's movements above you. One last nudge from its nose and suddenly it was shifting to the side, flopping onto the ground beside you and watching you with a content expression on its face.

“Cassian?” you called out. You wondered if you were actually still alive or if you had finally died.

His hand grasping onto your wrist forced you back into your own head. You hadn’t died. The animal didn’t make you their dinner and as Cassian helped you back to your feet you finally settled on one single thing. Who was capable of controlling a Dire-cat of this size? They were known to be ruthless. Animals that hunted without mercy.

“Did you whistle?” you asked, shaking slightly from the encounter of almost being ripped to shreds. He shook his head. “Someone’s here.”   

“Are they with—” he began.

You shrugged. “No clue. Know of any stormtroopers who have the capability of taming a Dire-cat?”

“I don’t think they know these animals exist.”

“Then who—”

Another sharp whistle came from a closer distance, causing the Dire-cat to shift until it was standing behind you. A part of you hoped that whoever tamed this beast was on your side, but still you remained wary of what would come. Gripping the blade even tighter you kept still while Cassian moved the blaster up until it was pointed directly at the treeline. Whoever or whatever revealed themselves would find the situation complicated.

“Don’t shoot!” someone called from within the trees. “I’m not with the Empire!”

Something clicked in your mind, a small sliver of recognition and yet you refused to let yourself fall into what might be a trap. “How do we know?” you responded, feeling your body tense as the Dire-cat let out a breath.

They chuckled, the leaves rustling as they came forward. “Oh come on K’tusah, you really think I’d switch sides this late in the game?”

The sight of his familiar mop of dark blue hair and blue skin had the fear melting from your body within moments. “Nomad?”

“You really believe those kriffing banthas could tame a beauty like her?”

“Nomad.” You could get no other words out, because there stood a friend you thought you lost contact with so many years ago. “You’re—”

“Alive? Here in the flesh? Did you miss me?”

Sprinting towards him, you flung your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug that was long overdue. You recall watching him leave. Saying goodbye the only way he knew how—saluting as he hopped into his worn down ship. I’m off to join the fight. Words you knew all too well, but never believed someone close to you would ever say. Off to fight a war bigger than himself and so you watched him leave.

Willing that the Force—if it exists—would protect him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispered, pushing his face into your shoulder with a smile on his lips.

“When you didn’t reach out I thought—I thought you died Nomad.”

He shrugged, pulling back to wipe the stray tear that fell down your cheek. The warm expression you’d grown so used to seeing gave you a moment of peace within the flurry of chaos that had become your life. Your friend, the person who taught you most of what you know, stood before you—very much alive.

“It’ll take more than an Empire to get rid of me K’tusah. You know that.”

You laughed, letting go of him only to feel a cold, wet nose nuzzle against your neck. “The Dire-cat…”

“K’uscasi. She’s been with me since I came back to Corellia.”

Turning to watch as K’uscasi pushed her nose into Cassian instead, you felt some of the fear—the worry—begin to dissipate. “Right,” you said, heading towards Cassian who seemed intent on remaining as still as possible while she investigated whether or not he was worthy. “This is Cassian Andor. Cassian, this is Vonn Woutuc, pilot for the Rebellion.”

“The Rebellion?” he asked, surging forward. “You’re a pilot?”

Vonn nodded. “Have been for a while. My ship crashed a while back and I’ve been scouring around for another one. If you haven’t noticed, it’s been a bit dangerous to try and contact the Rebellion here.”

“You’ve been here this whole time?” The question fell from your lips before you could stop it—the pain laced in your tone enough to shift his body language.

“Don’t give me that look K’tusah; you know as well as I do that laying low was my only option.”

He was right. If the Empire found that a Rebel pilot was in their midst they would do anything they could to get even a sliver of information out of him. The ongoing war…it only got bloodier by the day. You sure as hell didn’t want Vonn’s blood to be mixed in with all the others. Death was something you not only feared but did your best to stay away from, but even now it seemed that there was only one way to finally end this fight once and for all.

Death would always be inevitable.

“Well, I have to get off this planet,” Cassian said, stepping noticeably away from the Dire-cat. “I could help you find a ship.”

“I hear there’s some traders on the other side of the mountains. They might have something there.”

“Are they allies?”

Vonn shrugged. “At this point I don’t have any preferences for people who have what I need.”

They talked, a plan forming quicker than expected to travel through the mountains, and in all that time…they never once mentioned you. Suddenly you’d become an afterthought. Someone they no longer considered a part of their mission. You weren’t sure what irritated you more. The fact that Cassian believed you to be separated from this fight, or that Vonn would exclude you from something that he knew was just as much your life as it was his.

“And what am I supposed to do?” you cut in, crossing your arms over your chest.

Vonn hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate a response you’d prefer. “You need to go home.”

Well that was certainly not what you expected—not when it came to him.

“What do you mean go home?”

“The only way to keep you safe is if you go home.”

You had half a mind to send your fist flying towards his face. “You’re not being serious right? My home—the same place where I rescued his ass—is now either on fire or being occupied by stormtroopers. So where else am I supposed to go?”

“He’s right—” Your glare cut off Cassian’s words; his jaw snapping shut as he glanced away.

“I’m going with you.” Vonn’s expression told you otherwise, but you were done taking orders from them. “Whether you want me to or not.”

“Maker you’re as stubborn as a fucking falumpaset,” Vonn muttered, running a hand down his face.

You grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment Nomad.” Moving past the two men who seemed to detest the idea of you joining them, you happily pet the Dire-cat before grabbing your things. “If you’re planning on heading to the mountains, it’s going to be a day’s ride. You two can take the speeder. I’ll take her.”

“K’uscasi only responds well to me. So why don’t you let me—” He stopped where he was, eyes wide as he watched you clamber onto her back with ease, being careful to avoid the spines that protruded out of her back.

You smiled. “You were saying?”

He muttered something illegible in Cheunh; words you knew were no doubt either cursing your existence or once again commenting on how irritable you could be. When you first met Vonn you didn’t expect to gain a lifelong friend. That was mainly due to the fact that he hated you right off the bat—claiming that he’d never met someone as stubborn as you to a point where it became irritating. You didn’t bother to take his words to heart. In the end he was the one crying as he left to go join the fight, ultimately leaving you here.

“She is always this stubborn?” Cassian’s low voice filtered through the air as you nudged K’uscasi forward. His words made you smile.

Vonn sighed, clambering onto the back of the speeder behind Cassian. “Stubborn is putting it lightly.”

The familiar sound of your speeder starting up echoed off the trees in the surrounding area. The trek through the mountains had always been something you were afraid of doing. You knew the way after so many years of living on the border of them, but you’d also heard the horror stories of those that resided in the very forest you were heading into. You’d heard what happened to people who never made it back.

It was enough to scare you into remaining where you were.

K’uscasi rumbled beneath you as she ducked low enough to pass beneath the branches, giving you a warning to do the same. Thankfully she was only trotting. You weren’t too sure you wanted to be on the back of a Dire-cat when they took off sprinting. Cassian and Vonn followed close behind, going at a steady pace and sticking to the trail you were making. Vonn may have laid low in these woods, but he didn’t know the ins and outs of the pathways—he hadn’t spent his years pouring over maps of this planet in the hopes of escaping it one day.

“What made you want to join the Rebellion Cassian?” you called over your shoulder, wanting to fill the void of silence. Any conversation was better than no conversation in your book.

“It’s a long story,” he replied.

“It’s bound to happen to all of us eventually,” Vonn spoke up. “The Empire can only bring destruction for so long before a reckoning starts to stop it.”

“Who told you that?” Cassian asked.”

“She did.” You knew who Vonn was pointing to; you remembered saying those words to him all those years ago when it was you who was adamant on joining. In your own mind you wanted to be a pilot or even an engineer, but life had a different path for you in the end.

One that was sadly your own doing.

“You wanted to join the fight?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you grinned at the surprise on Cassian’s face. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“No.”

“Good.” You shifted K’uscasi to the left, recognizing the path on one of the many maps you kept.

Thankfully the sun would remain up for a few more hours, giving the three of you enough time to travel as far as possible. Getting up the mountain wasn’t the hard part. It was what came after that would put all of you to the test. There’s a reason why this trip wasn’t simply one made when they felt like getting to the otherside of Corellia. Nobody traveled this way anymore. That’s what ships were for, but if there’s one thing all of you could count on—it was that the Empire wouldn’t trek this pathway to find you.

And if they did…they wouldn’t survive.

Wincing as you slid off K’uscasi’s back, your bones were jarred once your feet landed on the ground with the thud. You’d been riding for hours, the sun slowly but steadily sinking lower and lower with every passing hour. Until it was too late for the three of you to keep going. Vonn grabbed his bag off the back of the speeder, heading into the thicket of trees around the small clearing. He’d always been a master at setting traps; making sure that there was always a way to take out the enemy before they got to you.

“We should build a fire,” you said, wincing at the pain in your back. The salve from earlier was starting to wear off, leaving an ache to form where your skin had yet to fully heal.

“That will alert others of our location,” Cassian said, watching you warily as you leaned heavily to one side.

“No.” Inhaling deeply, you shoved the pain aside, trying to focus instead on the man in front of you. “We’re so deep into the forest that they’d have to be flying directly over our heads to see the smoke.”

Vonn silently returned from the trees, shutting his bag and setting it beside K’uscasi. “She’s right. The trees should keep us covered through nightfall. But once that sun comes up we need to haul ass through this forest.” He pointed in the distance to where a peak of a mountain top was visible. “It’s called Nomad Mountains for a reason.”

You caught Cassian’s eye, shrugging as Vonn moved to the other side of the clearing to set more traps. “There’s a reason why I call him Nomad.” 

Not giving him time to question you further, you headed towards the base of a tree, gathering what wood you could. Thankfully he didn’t push, even though you somehow knew it was in his nature to do so, and chose to simply help you. He crouched beside where you were, digging through the fallen leaves to find larger sticks and brush to help keep the fire steady. Meanwhile Vonn was placing rocks to form a circle small enough to keep what fire you made untraceable, but large enough to keep the three of you warm.

The small lighter in your pocket once belonged to your grandfather. Never did you think you would need it for a time like this. The fire thankfully lit easier than you anticipated, bringing warmth to your face almost instantly. You were in a crouched position, the burn of your wound now spreading down your back and towards your thighs. Eventually the remaining strength in your body would give in, but for now you were able to stand. Granted you groaned in pain on the way up.

Years of hiding out on the edges of the forest with Vonn had made the two of you so used to this routine. Only now it was to actually keep one another safe. You’d been living with the Empire over your heads for so long, the thought of actually being in the fight against it and that becoming your reality never entered your mind.

You wanted to laugh at the hilarity of it all.

How only days ago you were wondering where your parents were as you sat alone in your house. Yet now you stood here, beside two fighters in the Rebellion and you were somehow able to call yourself one of them. You’d been fighting for years and you just had yet to realize it. 

Cassian landing in your front yard was that realization.

“Do you need help?” he asked, butting into your thoughts and capturing your attention.

It almost startled you how brown his eyes were; how the level of concern in them almost rivaled the anger in them when he first woke up. The emotion that rose in your chest scared you enough to shy away from it—to pretend that it didn’t exist. You were helping him to leave. Emotions like that couldn’t exist, because what could you do with a Rebel pilot?

How could that ever be something more than a rushed relationship? More than just the few minutes you were able to snatch together, hoping for more.

No, you’d been on a planet hoping—wishing on every star you could see—that your parents would one day return to you.

You wouldn’t do the same for someone else.

“The salve wore off,” you replied, trying to make it seem like you’d been mulling over his question rather than the small crush you were starting to harbor for him. A crush that you refused to even acknowledge.

“I threw it in your bag.”

Nodding, you reached for the brown satchel, digging through what personal items you managed to save. A small picture of your parents, a piece of jewelry said to be passed down through the generations and a ring. It was far too big to fit your finger and far too big to have ever fit your mothers. You came to the conclusion that it belonged to your father—the insignia familiar, but something that would have been forgotten about with the Empire at large.

“You don’t have to do this.” Sitting down slowly on the ground, you bit down on your lip until you tasted copper as your back hit the tree behind you.

“Something tells me I do,” he surmised.

You huffed a breath of laughter. “What tells you that?”

Rather than respond, he simply reached for the hem of your shirt, helping you pull it up slowly until the majority of your wound was bared to him. His hands radiated warmth and you were unable to fight against the shudder that went down your spine. As much as you loved the forests on Corellia—they were cold. If one wasn’t careful, they could freeze to the death during the night. Hence the thick jacket you had taken off to drape over your legs.

He pressed his palm along your ribs, his eyes flickering up to meet yours and for a brief glimpse of time you allowed the crush to form. You gave into the feeling and wondered what it would be like to call him yours. It was truly ridiculous to think of something happening this quickly. So, you shoved it back down, slamming the lid on it to seal it away forever.

But that didn’t stop him from gently gliding his fingers along the edge of the wound, checking if it was healing properly. This was merely a kind gesture towards you. He wasn’t trying to feel you up in any way. So why were you so affected?

“It’s starting to heal,” he murmured, gathering a small bit of salve on his fingers and running it over the open wound.

The sighed out moan that practically fell from your lips was involuntary. Simply a reaction to the instant relief that spread through your body, but that didn’t stop you from ducking your head in an attempt to avoid his gaze. You wished Vonn would show up and interrupt this. Make his presence known rather than fiddle with the traps out in the darkness. At least then you wouldn’t be left alone with Cassian.

The firelight played on the side of Cassian’s face, casting shadows over his stubbled jaw and serious expression. You found that you couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like when he wasn’t stressed. When he was by all means…happy.

Maker, you could barely even remember the last time you were happy. With the Empire at large and your whole life meant to be made as small as possible—you were stuck in a pit of darkness. Unable to get out. You could only imagine what someone like Cassian was going through. Someone who chose to fight against what others would call a lost cause.

“Why did you join the Rebellion?” you breathed.

He turned to look at you, pausing his movements and setting the salve on your thigh. “Why didn’t you?”

That made you smile. “You can’t answer my question with another question.”

“Why not?”

“There you go again.”

He laughed; the sound lighting something in your chest so bright it nearly burned you from the inside out. “I made a choice to finally do something meaningful with my life.”

Nodding, you leaned back. He shifted so you could press your injured back against him rather than the rough bark of a tree. The small act didn’t mean much to him, but to you it was enough for those pesky feelings to peek their head up again. Only a few hours ago he tried to put a knife through you and now here you were…crushing on him. Unbelievable.

“Something tells me that’s not the whole reason.”

He glanced down, the firelight catching the brown of his eyes and turning them molten. “What tells you that?” he asked, mimicking you from earlier.

“You lived a life before joining,” you replied, choosing to stare at the fire instead. “The Rebellion isn’t old, but resistance has always been there. In everything. You’ve probably been walking that path a lot longer than you think you have. So much so that…it chose you.”

Reading people used to be a talent of yours. To a point where Vonn began calling you a Jedi, because of how well you could get into people’s minds, figure out who they were all within a short span of meeting them. But in all honesty…you were no Jedi. You were just a person who held onto more than you were ever allowed to say out loud. Cassian didn’t look at you, he didn’t respond, but something told you that you understood him more than even he expected.

You figured out exactly who he was before he did and he wasn’t sure if he liked that.

After some time, he spoke again.

“Why didn’t you follow Vonn?”

You moved, your head falling to his shoulder in an effort to make yourself comfortable. If he didn’t like it, he didn’t say anything about it, so you remained where you were.

“I didn’t know at the time that my parents weren’t coming home.”

“They left?”

You nodded. “A long time ago.” Sighing, you picked at the worn leather of your coat. “I thought they would come back eventually. But after Vonn left and I was truly on my own I realized that…they wouldn’t be returning.”

“So why not join?”

“You talk about it like it was easy for you to join. I wanted to. I still do. But leaving the only home you’ve ever known…it’s not easy. Although maybe it was for you.”

He stilled. “I didn’t have a choice in whether I wanted to leave or not.”

“What do you mean?”

Again he fell silent, but you fell silent with him. After all, the conversation was not so vital that letting it trail off would do any harm to either of you. But you found that you wanted to know more. You wanted him to tell you personally what made his mind tick, what made him choose this life over anything else. You wanted to know him.

“I was…adopted,” he hesitated, as if even he wasn’t sure that was the right answer.

“Rescued?”

“I think so.” He sighed, his arm shifting and hand falling to rest on your thigh. “I don’t know.” 

A piece of wood crackled on the fire, and you caught a glimpse of Vonn coming through the trees catching your eye. He smiled briefly, wiggling his eyebrows at the sight of you and Cassian curled up together, before heading towards K’uscasi who was sound asleep.

“Were they…kind people?”

“Yes,” he replied without thinking twice about it. “I had a good life. At least I like to believe it was good. I wasn’t starving or without a bed.”

“But not an easy one.”

“What?”

“You said good, not easy.” You shrugged. “Having a good life doesn’t equate having an easy one. No one joins the Rebellion if their life choices were easy.”

Once again you startled him into silence, his mind reeling with the realization that perhaps you were more capable in reading people than even you believed yourself to be. “No, not easy. Is that why you didn’t join? Your life was easy, because it doesn’t sound that way to me.”

You stared at the fire, realizing that you now knew what it felt like. What to burn really meant. You weren’t sure if you liked that realization knowing that the scars of what you’d done would remain with you forever. Cassian—even if he were to leave—would have a piece of himself literally carved into your skin. That thought terrified you more than his question did.

“My life was far from easy flyboy,” you muttered, ignoring his scoff at the nickname. “I didn��t join because…I was scared.”

Admitting it now made the reason feel ridiculous, but it was true. All those years spent looking up at the sky wishing for an escape and you never created one for yourself. You had to wait for him to show up to give yourself enough of a reason to go. Joining the fight was grand and great in the scheme of things. Yet actually doing it—committing your entire life to something that very well might end it—scared the shit out of you.

“I know that may sound dumb to you,” you sighed.

“No. It doesn’t.” His hand found yours, gathering your cold palm into his warm one. “I’ve been afraid since I was a child. The fear…it never really goes away. It’s just something you learn to live with.”

“How do you live with it?”

Another piece of wood crackled, sending sparks into the night sky. “You hope that one day things will be better and go from there.”

“Ah yes hope.” You smiled, tracing his palm with your finger. “The one thing keeping this whole thing together. Rebellions are built on hope, you know. Without it…there’s nothing to fight for.”

“There’s your reason.”

You turned slightly to look him in the eyes. “What reason?”

“To join,” he stated. “Hope is greater than fear.”

Laughing, you dropped your head back to his shoulder. “Don’t you have to, I don’t know, be knighted or something in order to join the fight?”

He laughed along with you, the sound echoing beside your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. You knew that once you parted, you would ache to hear that sound again. That thought alone had a knot form in your stomach—one that wouldn’t diminish any time soon. Cassian Andor was meant for far greater than this small adventure to get back to his real life. And you…you would return to your house, say goodbye to both Cassian and Vonn, and live out your days on a planet that would one day destroy you from the inside out.

But for now you would enjoy what little time you had with him—with them both.

“I’m a Captain. Technically I could knight you as you say.”

“And what would that make me?”

“Free,” he said.

The one thing you valued above anything else in your life. The chance to finally be free from the things holding you here. You wanted to see the stars, to finally make your life hold meaning, then this was your chance. The one thing you’d been waiting for.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His eyebrows raised, lips pulling up into a grin. “Okay?”

You nodded. “I’m in.”

#cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x fem!reader #cassian andor fanfiction #andor #my writing

[meraki24601]

One Condition

Sidekick almost cheers as the store comes into view. They weren't quite sure their leg will make it the whole trip back, but at least they had finally made it this far. They'll get all the bandages they can find and worry about reaching the lair afterward. 

They pause as another customer leaves the store. Sidekick reaches for the pillar closest to the door, hoping they look casual as the person walks by. "Get in, get out. Get in, get out." They chant under their breath as they prepare to enter the store. They can picture the wall of bandages and first aid supplies in their mind. It's on the other side of the store, but they can get a cart to help them make it there. 

"Sidekick?" Somehow they hadn't noticed the customer leaving the store had paused and was staring at them. Now that they're paying attention it only takes one glance for Sidekick to recognize them. 

"Hello there, Hero." This is bad. This is really bad. "Imagine that. Heroes get groceries just like the rest of us."

"What are you planning? Are you going to rob the store?" Hero takes a defensive stance as Sidekick pushes away from the pillar. 

"Don't worry." They pull out their wallet and wave it around as they walk toward the door. "I plan on paying. Have a nice night."

To Sidekick's surprise, Hero doesn't follow them in. They stumble through the store without any problems. They're grateful for their leather jacket hiding their bleeding as the effort pulls at their wounds. 

Planning on taking the cart and returning it later, Sidekick prepares themselves for the long walk home. At least this time they'll have something to lean on. 

"You actually paid for it." A surprised voice whispers far too close behind them. Sidekick whips around, one arm wrapping around their middle and the other wielding a gun. Hero disarms them in seconds, "These are all first aid supplies. Are you hurt?" 

Sidekick can't help but laugh, "You nosey fool. You people are always hurting us. I'm fine, but I really need to be getting back now. If you'll excuse me." 

"Is Villain okay?" Hero asks as Sidekick starts to limp away. They don't answer. It's a stupid question. If Hero doesn't let them go back, if they decide to fight, Villain might not make it this time. Stupid Heroes. This one even has the gall to pretend they don't know what the heroes have been doing to them the past two weeks. What it's been like stuck in one of their cells.

"I'll repeat my question." Hero moves at astonishing speeds, slipping to block the way of their cart, "Is Villain okay?" Somehow, they look genuinely concerned. 

"Please let go of my cart."

"Take me to them. I can help."

"No way."

"I mean it. I just want to help. That's what heroes do, right?"

"No." Sidekick can feel the anger rising up. They're not tired anymore, just desperate to get back to Villain. They have to do something to get Hero to leave them alone. Shock them into standing still long enough for them to get around the corner. 

Sidekick laughs. They're so innocent. This shouldn't be hard. "No, Hero, this is what Heroes do." Sidekick pulls the neck of their jacket down so they can see the bruises around their neck, and pulls the bandage off their wrist for them to see the burns. "If you don't let me go right now, then Villain is going to die. You Heroes will be the ones who killed them. Now, please, release my cart." 

Hero listens, staring at them with wide eyes. They let Sidekick walk past them without any more objections. 

The whole excursion is taking too long. Sidekick has to hurry, but their leg simply won't let them. The cut muscles and likely broken bone shoots pain every time their weight lands on it. It gives out on them as Sidekick cries out. 

Strong arms wrap around them before they hit the ground. Hero lifts Sidekick up into their arms and settles them down inside the cart. "Where are they?"

"No." Sidekick groans, wrapping their arm back around their waist and trying to pull themselves up.

Hero pushes them back down. "I won't hurt them. I just want to help. If they're injured, you won't be able to make it in time even if they're just down the street. Tell me where to go."

Sidekick's chest spasms under the weight of Heroes hand. They almost can't breathe as panic starts to set in, but Hero pulls away. They stand over them, waiting for an answer. Sidekick has no choice. Hero is right. 

They give them the address. 

With Hero's speed, they make it there faster than Sidekick thought possible. Gathering their strength, Sidekick throws themselves out of the cart, favoring their good leg, before Hero can think about picking them up again. "Make yourself useful," They call over their shoulder as they unlock the door, "grab the bags."

Sidekick doesn't bother with lights as they lead Hero through hidden passages. Sweat drips down their forehead as they push open the last door despite the cold of the hallway.

Villain is lying on the floor exactly where Sidekick left them. They hadn't had the strength to lift them into one of the beds. Sidekick can see the excruciatingly slow rise and fall of Villain’s torn chest. They weren't too late.

Hero appears beside Villain. "Heroes did this?" They ask as they lift Villain onto one of the beds. 

Sidekick limps to the counter where Hero had put all of the supplies. As they press their arm tighter into their stomach, attempting to hold in the blood they can feel squishing under their jacket, they know they won't be much help in treating Villain. Instead, they list off Villain's injuries and what needs to be treated. 

As they finish, Sidekick turns toward Hero. They had felt the breeze as Hero grabbed bandages while they explained the situation. "Well?" They ask, taking in the bandages wrapped around villain's worst wounds. "Will they make it? Are you going to turn us in?"

Hero sighs, "Yes, they're going to be alright. We got here just in time." They point at a bandage and Sidekick tosses it to them. It seems to almost wrap itself around Villain's arm when Hero catches it. 

"I won't turn you in on one condition."

Sidekick tenses, "What's that?"

"You have to let me treat you too."

"I'm fine."

One moment Sidekick is standing up, and the next Hero is gently resting their head on the ground. 

"Don't touch me!" Sidekick cries and pushes away from Hero. In a flash, Hero is straddling their waist with Sidekick's arms pinned to their sides. "No!" They cry as Hero slowly unzips their jacket, careful of what might have been underneath. 

Sidekick's vision goes white as Hero manipulates their body, checking them for wounds. "Stop. Please. Don't." The words are hardly more than a whisper as Sidekick struggles to pull enough air into their lungs. "Someone. Help me." 

"It's alright." Hero's voice is quiet and soothing through the pain, "I'm not going to hurt you. I won't turn you in."

Hero's weight leaves them and Sidekick rolls over onto their stomach. "Please, stop." They beg as they crawl aimlessly across the floor, their broken leg dragging behind them completely useless. 

They hear Hero gasp as they take in their exposed back and the pressure returns. Sidekick doesn't feel the needle in their neck until Hero is pulling it out. "It's okay, Sidekick. You're going to be okay."

#whump tropes #whump #whump things #medical whump #whump fic #whump writing #hero #Hero/Sidekick #villain #sidekick #refusing medical care

[lostfracturess]

i’ve got my work laptop out and my phone in hand to live react to this chapter 😼

omg i kneww it was the fkn student he punched. satoru’s so sweet to not want to drag her into a courtcase though.

kafka 😩🫶🏼💕 ive been on such a kafka kick lately omg (not so much reading his actual works but looking at kafka tumblr quotes 😔 i feel motivated to actually read his works now) also the way he sees her?? we’re so beautiful to him 🤭

“what a fucked up way to describe it. a child, small and defenseless against an unyielding force. where was the justice in that?”

☹️☹️☹️ ok i’m teared up. wtf.

“for all her strength and boldness, there was this fragile core to her. one that the world, am i, seemed intent on bruising.”

😩🤚🏼 i feel for reader fr she can do no wronggg in my eyes omg i can FEEL the stress of all this fkn research & trials gone wrong omg. she’s such an empath and it’s takin a toll on my girl over here

OHMYGOSHHH she saw the lawyer papers plsss higurama you had one job 😓 also i know im supposed to hate how secretive n stubborn he is but something ab his habit of shutting reader up w kisses 😩🤚🏼 i like my men toxic like that LMFAO

yaga laying innnn on him omg i love the consequences of his actions catching up to him. the forbidden romance is forbidden romancinggg. THE ETHICS COMMITTEE….hmm i mean considering the power dynamic i think satoru would def be the one to take the brunt of accusation if they were caught 🤔 i really wonder if reader would receive as heavy of a fall from grace as he would

omg the elevator stuck scene 🫣 PLS HE CONSIDERS FUCKING HER IN THE ELEVATOR!!?? IM SCREAMING. also they need to stop talking ab thisss in the elevator omg ppl might be listening or recording 😔 where is higurama w the legal counsel.

i cant tell if its my iced coffee giving me palpitations rn or if its your fucking writing (most likely latter). i looove how theyre resolved to try n keep each other tho :”) despite facing the things going on rn.

sheesh those lab results lmao that patient’s liver gotta be fucked 🤣 Oh WHAT ITS SATORU’s LIVER 😨 NOOO.

aw a signed kafka book?!? 😩🤚🏼 lord…

im on the basketball scene and ugggh first of all basketball satoru?!?! NEED. just imagining his arm muscles flexing while he’s shootin a shot 😩 also he’s sooo whipped for her oh my god. need a man who loves this deeply.

OHY MY GOD A SPARE TO HIS APARTMENT ITS SO REAL. ITS ALL FEELING SO REAL RN. SCREAMING. TRYING SO FKN HARD TO HIDE THE SMILE ON MY FACE RN.

oh god i cant ice ant i cant the hydropmorphone this sshift in energy i cant. to the bathroom for my ten min i go because i alr know imma need to scream for this 😭😭😭

NO WAAAYYY HE’s DOIN DRUGSS OFF OF HER IM ABOUT TO LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND. OH MY GOD IM CLUTCHING MY PEARLS RN. OVER SUGURU’s FUCKING DESK?!????

OH. MY. GOD. SATORU IS THE FUCKING DEVIL. HE’s THE DEVIL. I……….I JUST GOT TO THE END. I COULD DEADASS SCREAM RN. THE— THE GUMPTION. THE GALL?!?!? TO LICK HIS FUCKING FINGERS.

i…….🧍🏻‍♀️i’m literally shaking. im SHAKING like IM the one w a panic attack or withdrawal rn. you ate this chapter up. you ate this chapter ALL the way fucking up and i could cry rn. no words. pheewww AND IM SUPPOSED TO MOVE ON W MY DAY AFTER THIS?!????!

fuck.

girl you make me cry with your comments! 😭❤️ yes, satoru is such a sweetheart for dealing with the lawsuit with money that she wouldn't have to go to court, even if that means he would have to swallow that bitter pill. green flag!!

and yes, pls pls read kafka! there are a lot of short books and stories of him that are just like a four hour read but so worth it, can't recommend that enough!!

OHMYGOSHHH she saw the lawyer papers plsss higurama you had one job

higurma must have done it on purpose i'm so sure!! like i wrote it, but still am not quite convinced it was a coincidence ahhh! and him shutting her up with kisses is EVERYTHING. bit toxic okay, but EVERYTHING.

the forbidden romance is forbidden romancinggg.

yes, the forbidden romance is catching up to them, how would have thought. like satoru was not even trying to hide it that much, but now he's surprised?? he's so stupid.

PLS HE CONSIDERS FUCKING HER IN THE ELEVATOR!!?? IM SCREAMING.

yeeeessss!! he really considered it a split second as he knows that will work quite good to shut her up ahaha he's so miserable with talking and feelings. but he sure knows what he's good at and how to use that. 🌚🌚

im on the basketball scene and ugggh first of all basketball satoru?!?! NEED. just imagining his arm muscles flexing while he’s shootin a shot

yes!!! i want to rewrite this scene out of reader pov just to be able to describe a bit of how this mf handsome man looked in this scene for us to please ahhhh.

also he’s sooo whipped for her oh my god. need a man who loves this deeply.

he's down bad for her and this will be his undoing. but yes, everyone deserves a man how's on his knees for his girl!!!

NO WAAAYYY HE’s DOIN DRUGSS OFF OF HER IM ABOUT TO LOSE MY GODDAMN MIND.

he's so fkn feral omg, like he really got some nerves doing that aahhhhh. also over suguru's desk ahahah. still he could lick every drug he wants from my body at any time ngl.

I COULD DEADASS SCREAM RN. THE— THE GUMPTION. THE GALL?!?!? TO LICK HIS FUCKING FINGERS.

HE HAS NO SHAME!!! this man is so unhinged and i loved every second writing him like that. he maybe is about to lose his mind but he's still serving while going insane!!

thank you so so much for your comments on this chapter, is was so funny to see your reaction while reading!!! thank you so so much for your support and taking your time to write this (also on your rec on the story??? reposting this in a minute), wishing you nothing but the best! 🥲🫶🫶

#symptoms and causes #inbox

[kitchenisking]

Fic Rec😜

You Can Hear It In the Silence by Mimiminaj - (Rating: Mature, Words: 7241, sterek)

Stiles focused on Derek’s face long enough to see a flicker of regret flash across it. Good. Serves him right for throwing him against a brick wall. 

Stiles felt his back hit said well, and he went limp as Derek worked his coat closed. 

“I don’t think you can take me to the hospital though, Derek.”

The hands stilled. 

“And why is that?”

“I don’t think they allow dogs.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Soft Derek, Warm Stiles, No One is a Little Ball of Fur bytiedtogetherwithadagger - (Rating: G, Words: 3799, sterek)

Stiles is wiping down the counters and humming California Gurls to himself when the bell above the door chimes and Derek walks in. The next notes of the song get stuck in his throat and he freezes. Stiles shouldn’t be surprised, really. The rest of the pack have already been by to visit him, even Jackson. Of course, Boyd was the only person Stiles ended up giving a free drink to, much to their disappointment. So what if he had favorites? How could he not when Boyd was the one to get him ComiCon tickets?

Derek swaggers up to the counter Stiles is stationed behind, because that’s the only way Derek apparently knows how to walk. He’s wearing a maroon knitted sweater today that looks unfairly cozy. Stiles slaps his own hand down from reaching out and touching the fabric because that would be weird. Although slapping yourself might be weirder. Oh well.

And they were roommates! by Smowkie - (Rating: T, Words: 2849, sterek)

He was annoying. It wasn’t funny, it wasn’t cute. He didn’t smell good, he wasn’t pretty, and Derek didn’t like living with him at all. If he told himself that often enough, maybe he would actually start believing it.

Stiles was infuriating though, really, he was. He liked Star Wars, said Star Trek was meh, which was clearly wrong, and when he had noticed that Derek liked a specific protein bar after the full moon he made sure Derek always had them at home.

Damn it, Derek couldn’t even lie to himself.

There'll Be A Future Down The Road by clotpolesonly - (Rating: T, Words: 6885, sterek)

Stiles must have made some kind of noise, because the woman’s head snaps up.

“Oh,” she says. “You’re awake. That’s a good sign. Try to stay that way this time, will you?” She turns back over her shoulder and calls out, “Derek! He’s conscious!”

The loudness of it makes Stiles’ head throb so hard that he almost doesn’t comprehend what she said. It isn’t until Derek is right there, in the room, leaning over him with that same concerned scowl, that Stiles realizes he wasn’t dreaming earlier.

“Derek,” Stiles croaks. “What are you doing here?”

The scowl deepens. “You break into my house after four years of nothing, collapse on my floor covered in blood, and then have the gall to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Fuck Protocol by fullmoontonightt - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 12466, sterek)

“You’re him. The Hale kid.”    The werewolf is on him in a split second, pushing him roughly against the shop window. “How do you know who I am?”

“Put the fangs down boy." Stiles rolls his eyes. "Unlike you apparently, I actually do my research."

Racing Hearts by TheRealDanniX - (Rating: T, Words: 8259, sterek)

Stiles' heartbeat confuses Derek. It gets more confusing once Derek's an Alpha. 

Featuring Panic attacks, heartbeats, Gentle Alphas, and a frank conversation with a creepy Uncle.

Special Delivery (subway edition) by FiannlyPhoebe - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 7630, sterek)

“You’re what?” Stiles yells.

Derek jerks the phone away from his ear and waits a few beats before putting it back. “I’m adopting the baby I found on the subway last month,” he repeats.

stuck in reverse by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 65656, sterek)

Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf.

Which means the rest of them? Are kind of the worst too. They’re a ramshackle, slap dashed, sorry excuse for a pack that’s about a half second away from getting one of them killed. And this is a problem, because Stiles would really like to survive high school. Thanks.

Still, nobody deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody.

And it’s about time somebody told him that.

And Also, I Love You by alisvolatpropiis - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7155, sterek)

Derek didn’t look at all like Stiles expected. After all, he deliberately chose a school where being a nerd was cool, so he certainly wasn’t expecting his hotter-than-a-thousand-stars roomie to be an actual cool person. Derek has muscles, like everywhere, which he has a tendency to display in skin-tight, sleeveless t-shirts for bands Stiles has never heard of; his jeans are always tight and ripped too, and he has an impressive five-o’clock shadow, the tips of his jet-black hair dyed purple. And his eyes. Stiles is pretty sure he’s only seen eyes like that in comics, or on a movie screen, or in his freakin dreams. They’re somehow simultaneously all of the colors and none of them, transcending something so pedestrian and insignificant as words to encapsulate their beauty. Stiles would come to learn that he's also wickedly smart, and he plays the guitar and speaks multiple languages, and his sunshine smile is even more alarming that his resting murder face.

Oblivious by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemryn) - (Rating: G, Words: 2166, sterek)

“What is all… this?” Stiles asked, dropping his work bag on the floor and shutting the door blindly behind him. “Why do you look all--” Stiles’ gulp interrupted his words and he said nothing else. 

“I just figured…” Derek began, clearing his throat when anxiety reared its ugly head. 

Stiles sniffed the air and said, “Is that Honey Garlic Chicken?” Before Derek could answer, Stiles catapulted himself down the stairs and lifted the cover to the crockpot, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma. “It is. And--” Stiles sprinted toward the table to sniff at the flowers adorning it. Derek had to pull him away when he got a little too close to the flames burning the candles on either side of it. “Flowers and candles, Derek? What is going on?”

#stiles x derek #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #ficrec #fanfic #kitcheniskingficrecs

[dokidokitsuna]

I’ve been thinking about this experience a lot lately, so I’m going to write a cathartic little blurb about it and hopefully just get it out of my head:

So a year or two ago, on this forum I belong to that’s mostly populated by other comic artists and writers, I started a thread to ask for suggestions about writing a character with no friends. Because I wanted to write this MC more like a normal girl, without “using my own art-obsessed life as a blueprint”-- basically, being an artist means I always have something to do alone, which makes being alone matter less, and I know it wouldn’t be the same if I wasn’t ‘like this’. But I don’t know any other way to live, so I wanted some outside perspectives.

What I didn’t anticipate was the appalling things people were willing to say to me about the mere idea of writing about a character with no friends...I’m not going to quote any of those comments directly, because the worst ones were actually pretty long and complex, and maybe I’m just being optimistic, but I believe they were mainly emotional reactions based on the hurt that they had felt during similar times in their lives (basically, the people who were MOST adamant that such a character should not exist were those who had also been friendless before, as backwards as it sounds).

But, uh...that emotion did not come out in good ways. o_O And just in general, being hurt is not an excuse to dehumanize others...which is exactly what happened. I got people telling me things like “forming friendships is a fundamental part of the human experience, why would you take that away” and “isn’t there enough sadness in the world without writing something so depressing” and “how do you expect to progress her story in any compelling way without relationships to base it on”...

Like, stuff so narrow-minded and unexpected (I’d been in that forum for over 4 years at that point) I was too shocked to even get angry.

Fortunately, most of the people who replied decided to be normal about it, but the fact that multiple people genuinely thought those things were okay to say, as if they carried no real-world implications whatsoever...that stuck with me. :/ It was genuinely upsetting that they apparently looked at that topic and went “Gee, I wonder why this clearly neurodivergent, introverted, seasoned writer wants to explore the concept of not having friends...it couldn’t possibly be a lived experience that they want to express through a fictional character...no, it MUST be because they just don’t understand how people or stories work, and I have to warn them before they make a terrible mistake!!”

And even if it wasn’t personal to me, and I was just writing it to explore a different worldview (as writers often do)...why the taboo?? Why is this, of all things, a character/story that ‘no one wants to read’?? So many threads started in that forum (some of them also by me) about stories starring murderers and abusers and actual supervillains go uncontested, but a story about a cute magical girl who just doesn’t happen to have friends crosses the line...? 

Even now I can’t understand why the reaction was so severe...generally, I think ‘social skill issues’ tend to hit people really close to home, but the idea of responding to such a thing with disgust and revulsion rather than kindness and understanding (or y’know, encouragement to portray a commonly stigmatized life experience in a non-negative light)...that escapes me. Even if I didn’t feel emotionally ready (?) to read about such an MC, I would never have the gall to try to guilt someone out of writing them.

Anyway, I don’t really have a snappy conclusion to make here...it’ll probably take a few more years of marinating in my brain for me to fully process what happened there. ._. I guess if anything I just wanna say that people without any friends or just people without any close friends exist in real life, we’re not all depressed and suicidal (in fact, some of us are-- dare I say it-- HAPPY regardless) and we still have lives and goals and thoughts and futures. Our stories matter, and other people don’t need to be ‘protected’ from them. That’s all.

#musings

[kyratittyfish]

WIP - Between The End And The Beginning - Chapter 6

I know, I was supposed to post this chapter about 3 weeks ago. The holidays came, and other stuff decided to get in the way too, and as a result, I'm late. Again. Sorry about that.

Life's decided to throw me some punches lately, and that's got me feeling all kind of angsty feelings, so here's an angsty snippet from the next chapter.

Hope you enjoy.

He didn’t need to open his eyes to see her clear as the day she died, her mouth curled into a dry smirk, a loose strand of wine-red hair framing her left cheek and a faded scar crossing her right. 

“I’m dead, Joker. I can’t say anything.”

“Then why am I hearing you talk right now?” He asked her, pushing his duvet away and pulling his left knee close to his chest. “Means I’m finally losing it, uh? Cool. Very cool. Had to happen eventually.” His whole body shook with uncontrolled fits of maniacal laughter that left him wheezing for air. 

She shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Maybe not?” he repeated between lingering giggles. “I’m talking to a dead woman! And she’s answering me back! If this isn’t losing it, I don’t know what else it could be.”

She had the gall to roll her eyes and scoff. I’m losing my stupid mind, and she finds it funny. Although, if she really was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, wouldn’t he be the one to find it amusing? 

He cast the thought aside, unwilling to deal with any more mindfuckery for the night. 

“Maybe being lonely and guilt-ridden and scared as shit?” She suggested, her voice sounding like she was explaining someone that water is wet. For the tenth time in a row.

“And how would you know?”

“I live inside your head.”

“Right.”

Through squinting eyelids – or rather, through the half-squinting eyelid of his mind’s eye – he spied her resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward to rest her chin on her intertwined fingers. 

“Anyway. Why are you scared of serving under me?”

“Uh, cause I literally got you killed?”

When she raised a hand he half expected her to slap him. Would a smack from a ghost even hurt? Probably not, Jeff thought. Unless this particular ghost is Shepard’s. 

In life, a punch from the Commander’s formidable fist would land a Krogan in the medbay with a fractured jaw. Now that she was dead, though, she probably was the only person who wouldn’t ground a few of Jeff’s bones to dust if she ever hit him. 

That didn’t mean it wouldn’t be painful, though - the physical body wasn’t the only thing that could hurt like hell.

Instead, she swatted at the empty darkness – she’s empty darkness herself – and lowered her arm. 

“Oh, stop with this self-loathing bullshit. The fucking Collectors got me killed, not you.”

You too? She wasn’t supposed to say that, she was meant scold him, to blame him, to hate him. He had killed her, dammit! He needed to feel the bite of her anger, the sting of her hurt, the rotting stench of her poison. Why was she giving him this infuriatingly reasonable logic instead? 

He bit back his inner turmoil. There was no point in saying those things out loud when his self-damningthoughts were the soundtrack to her life inside his guilty mind.

The only life she’s left. 

“You sound like my psychiatrist,” he said instead. “Just a bit less polite.”

“Good. Go tell him, then. He’ll be happy something of what he ever said to you actually stuck.”

#WIP #between the end and the beginning #Chapter snippet #my writing #jeff joker moreau #angela shepard #angst my beloved

[fairviewasylum]

Chapter Two

Edith swung her legs up onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, staring aimlessly at the damned lighthouse looming before her. She took a couple deep breaths, and tried to calm her nerves. Wasn’t the point of a place like this to medicate her into oblivion? She was stuck waiting patiently for her daily dose of oblivion, it would seem.  As she lost track of time passed, no clock to watch in her room, she heard murmurs float down the hallway and through her open door. “Should have closed that,” she sighed out loud to herself and whoever could hear if that was indeed the case. She got up and went back into the hallway, arms crossed automatically in defense. She didn’t want to be here and she’d be damned if anyone would have the gall to question that. 

The commotion coming from the common room was from what she expected as she entered the space. It was snack time, and Bennet was setting down fresh pitchers of drinks and trays of cookies and crackers. Edith couldn’t even pretend to be hungry so she took a glass of juice for herself and went to the same chair she had sat before. She sipped quietly with her back to the room, closing out the environment around her. The birds hopped and fluttered, happy and restless with their own nourishment. 

Edith tried taking calm deep breaths again, but would be lying if she said it helped in that moment. Lying was the thing she didn’t want to do anymore, part of what she thought landed her here. She hadn’t been lying though, she just misunderstood what was being said and came across insane instead.  Edith hadn’t been eating, drinking, or sleeping. She knew she was beginning to hallucinate, she knew it wasn’t right. She couldn’t stop herself, her own sanity had fled her reach. 

 “Hi! I’m Amy!” A chipper voice said behind her back as it came around to her side. A woman who didn’t look too far off from herself, maybe five years older, but similar dark hair, similar button nose, exact same height. “Hi, I am Edith.” Edith smiled quickly and returned her focus forward onto the birds. “New here? I’ve been here for about a month, I think I was only supposed to be here for a week but I think I needed longer.” She continued. “That sucks,” Edith said, but before she could even finish her words, Amy was rocking forward with her stories. “I don’t get along with my family, they sent me here because they think I’m crazy. I’m not crazy though, they just don’t believe me about my life anymore, but that’s their fault. I have a lot of really important friends, I was in the military you know. Flew planes and whatnot. My real dad lives in Itaria, he is a famous actor, he retired there. He wants me to move there next spring, but he needs to make sure it’s safe for me.” She plugged along, and Edith listened. “That would be nice, Itaria is cool.” Edith said, having gone for a short visit when she was sixteen years old. It was across the ocean, far to the east from where they currently were in Elspeth.  “Have you been?” She excitedly asked. “Once a long time ago,” Edith said coolly. The trip was part of her mother’s scheme to provide her the enrichment she needed to unlock her magical abilities. Thinking of exposure to other cultures in short bursts might unlock something special trapped in her mind. All it ended up doing was spend money, and show her that the rest of the world is just as troubled as home. The fantasy of other countries being a dreamland was a fantasy crushed early on. 

“I was there when I was a kid, but I don’t remember anything. I mean I went when I was in the military too, but I was always just around base. I didn’t get to explore. That’s all I want to do, is go over there and live life with my real dad. He says he loves me, I think he still loves my mom, but he wanted nothing to do with her when I was born.” Amy went on, off in her story. “That sucks,” Edith said again, not sure if Amy even heard her or if it mattered. “It’s okay, at least I know he wants me to come around now. I wish I didn’t have to wait until spring, I wish I could be there now. I don’t think I need to be here, but whatever.” Amy laughed, her energy a little overwhelming for Edith in these first hours at Fairview. Edith couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she sounded to the people in her life, constantly going and talking about things that didn’t really matter to them. “I see, I hope you get to go and have the best time with your dad. I think I’m going to try to take a nap before dinner,” Edith said, standing from her chair and taking her cup back to the corner of the common room where the food was dispersed from. She handed it back to Bennet who was cleaning up a bit while waiting for everyone around to finish eating. “Hey! So,” Amy began as she followed alongside her. “When I get out of here, I can’t wait to see my love Silas, we almost got married once when we were kids. I was pregnant with his baby, and my parents made me get rid of it.” She shared and followed as Edith walked towards her room. “Well that was a bit fucked up of them,” Edith said as the walk ended at her bedroom door. “Yeah I know right, well enjoy your nap!” Amy said, chipper as ever despite the emotional bomb she dropped. Edith was a little relieved, unsure if she’d have to find a way nice way to say she wanted to nap again. 

Edith crawled into her bed, under the covers this time, and cried herself into a nap, cursing once more at her position in this damned asylum and how Tamino sent her here to rot.

#creative writing #my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #tumblr writers #fantasy #fiction #new friends #original content #original writing

[harrison-abbott]

A BUSY ROUNDABOUT

The kettle was bust. It’d died yesterday, and he only just remembered now, at a miserable seven a.m..

 “Fuck.” So he put some water in a pot and stuck that on the stove, old fashioned style. Then went up stairs to get ready because the water would take a while to heat. Then he forgot about the kettle and let it on for five minutes and when he came back to the kitchen the windows were all puffy and half of the water was evaporated. Poured what was left onto some coffee granules that crackled.

 When he was a kid he never ate in the mornings because he was too nervous about school. Now he had no appetite because he got semi-bullied at work. He’d read in a newspaper article recently that lots of people preferred working at home, post-lockdown, because they no longer had to put up with bully colleagues/bosses.

 For years he’d thought it was only him that was the victim.

 Finished the coffee. Out unto the approaching autumn. Coldest day of the year for several months. Breath in milky clouds; lusciously coloured leaves on the road.

 He didn’t really feel like a man or woman or anybody during the bus ride into town. There was a busy roundabout near his office building (where he worked) and it was always just pumping with angry cars. And stuffed commuters awaiting the green man. He thought about chucking himself off of the sidewalk in front of an oncoming van. It’d be easy, wouldn’t it? Would his name appear in the papers?

 The green stickman shone and he walked with fifty people to the other side of the street and then he was in his workplace and inside the elevator and there was a pretty girl who was ten years younger who worked on one of the other floors and with whom he had this pathetic crush.

 “Morning,” he said, just she and him in the elevator.

 “Mmm,” she said. Not words. She didn’t do words.

 Up to his floor. Got off and walked down the corridor and there was the sad deranged buzz of static, the smell of the carpets.

 “Hello there, Marcus!” his boss yelled.

 “Hey there, Floyd.”

 “You got a spare five minutes in my office, Marcus boyo?”

 “Sure thing.”

 Mark’s name was Mark and not Marcus; Floyd enjoying calling him the latter as a sign of laddish friendship which didn’t exist: Mark fantasised about bringing a knife into work, fairly often, and stabbing Floyd in the neck. (Or there were blades aplenty in the staff kitchen – he could just use one of those.)

 “So what’s up, chief?” Mark said, once inside the office.

 “Ach, nothing drastic. How are you doing?”

 “I’m good, yeah. Something on your mind?”

 “Was just wondering about those reports?”

 “Ah, yeah.”

 “Did you get them done?”

 “Yes, I got them finished last night.”

 “You did?”

 “Yeah I have them with me today. Can ping them through to you right now if you like. Email them …”

 “When did you get them finished?”

 “Last … evening. I completed them when I got home, all fifty files. They’re done.”

 “But I asked you to have them done for me by five yesterday.”

 “Oh.”

 “Five o’clock: you were supposed to email them to me by the end of the day.”

 “Ah, yeah well I’d gone through like 47 of them and, umm, my brain was a bit frazzled. Haha. So I thought I would do the last three at home. They’re all complete. As I say.”

 “Okay, but, when I say there’s a deadline, I mean it.”

 “Sorry, Floyd. Sir.”

 “It’s fine, but. You know? We all have to keep to the targets.”

 “My apologies, boss. I’ll send them over now.”

 “Good.”

 Floyd picked his coffee mug up and studied Mark for a moment. Mark heard the milk and coffee glug down into his gullet. Floyd was a semi-handsome man with carefully dealt-over facial hair and this small scar on his left brow (his eyebrow, where the hair wouldn’t grow over this white scar) and Mark had always wanted to ask him how he’d gotten it. Was it in a fight or some childhood knock or something? Maybe his mother had fallen down the stairs when she was preggo with him, long ago.

 But he’d never had the gall to query.

 “How are you doing in general, Marcus?” he said.

 “I’m perfectly fine, boss.”

 “Are you sure? Because you seem, I don’t know, like you’ve been tired lately.”

 “Tired? No.”

 “Do you have trouble with sleeping?”

 (He thought about how to answer. Mark had a history of nightmares and somnambulance … and when he was eighteen he had a three month stetch of insomnia when he was heavily depressed. But, he wasn’t going to talk to this man about any of that. Why should he? The question was an insult because it flared up all of these memories, all at once. And he had to disguise it with a mask. Was forced into silence.)

 “No sir, I do not. I apologise for not finishing all of the reports by five p.m. yesterday. I will make an effort to not … um, to avoid that kind of thing again.”

 “Okay, Marcus, my lad.”

 “Great.”

 “I was just worried about you, is all.”

 “No problem.”

 “Rightee. Be well now.”

 Mark left the office and went to his computer.

 Then he was anonymous again and he could zone out.

 He remembered being attacked in his adolescence, a lot. As in, physically assailed by other boys who disliked the look of him. And after the attacks, the incident, he would feel the blood hammer in the veins of his arms, experience this prickly might all across his body, as if he might explode from the insides.

 Which is how he felt now. But not as brazenly as he did when he was fourteen, fifteen. It didn’t last as long, either, the wrath. It subsided. And perhaps those horrible teenage periods were worth it, because he could deal with it better as a man approaching 30.

 He stared at his computer screen and typed and clicked away and looked forward to reading his book on his lunch break.

#short fiction #prose #short story

[dumbgothbunny]

Rant below, tbh it’s me just whining so ignore it

Dude. I’m so done. Like honestly. I’m just over it. I’m over everything. I’m tired of being out in situations I dont want to be in or im uncomfortable in and I’m tired of being made to feel like I’m the problem. Like I’m sorry if I’m pissed the fuck off its 94 degrees outside and this asshole has us doing 22 fucking jobs today (we barley get 15 done in a day what the fuck) and is all “oh we can’t keep the AC on) so now I’m stuck in a truck with no AC until probably 9pm when we actually finish all these jobs because there’s no way they’re all getting done. And my “husband” has the nerve to act like I’m out of line. Dude literally has seen how sick I get when I’m overheated, but suddenly I’m ungrateful? Motherfucker if you’d listen to me instead of just begging for my fucking pussy maybe you’d realize I’ve hated every fucking thing you’ve MADE me do and I’ve told you.

Oh and another thing? He got me super high and then Coaxed me into having sex with this girl we know. She’s fucking disgusting and I’m so fucking pissed. And then he won’t stop talking about her. About all the problems she’s having. And I’m not the only one who has called him out on it. And for someone who fucking claims it was disgusting and she’s ugly (which she really is and I’m honestly considering just drinking bleach) sure didn’t stop from asking me again and making jokes about it. I mean homie is ugly af and she’s… she’s just disgusting and psycho tbh. And I’m pissed he even let it happen. And then to have the gall to talk about doing it again despite saying how nasty and gross she is? Okay. And claiming it’s a bad joke. I’m almost certain he’s fucking around with her behind my back, because I feel like it’s happening and she’s already tried to weasel her way to fucking him more. So. Idk. Maybe he’ll get obsessed with her and leave me 🤷🏻‍♀️ it’d be a blessing at this point.

[itspileofgoodthings]

Lady Marchmain should have let Sebastian go to jail over the drunk driving thing. Or, at the very least, should have stopped short of any mode of trying to get out of the consequences of his own actions that was dishonest. Things would have been a million times better if she had let things play out as they were going to without her interference. In this essay I will

#brideshead revisited #I mean probably not the most original take #but it’s such a failing on her part #my mom was watching it and she was like ‘yeah I could have become her’ #and I know what she means okay? it’s not like her actions are inscrutable or you can’t have any sympathy there #but if there’s one thing my mom would never ever ever do it is getting her kids out of things by cheating #because 1) it’s wrong and 2) it’s actually so unfair to the person who messed up #sometimes you have to let justice play out!!!!!! #I mean you definitely do when there is no other way but LYING #I mean I know I’m stuck on this but this is really what GALLS ME #it isn’t that she doesn’t understand Sebastian or can’t sympathize with him #and it’s not that she doesn’t probably have real trauma from the time with his dad #it’s the fact that she’ll cut moral corners WHEN SHE FREAKING FEELS LIKE IT TO GET WHAT SHE WANTS #it’s the lack of integrity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #this is why even though I can’t totally remember #I think I really love bridey!! #because with all that he is he isn’t unfair. he doesn’t cheat. #he’s just not ‘charming’ which has its own charm and protection #lady marchmain would not be in the mess she’s in if she weren’t charming #also just as a final thought: obviously I am not laying all of Sebastian’s actions at her door #he’s suffering a lot but he also still makes his own choices and is responsible #but that’s kind of exactly what she won’t believe about him #when he tells Charles he won’t do anything because ‘they’ll do it all’ it’s so so so true and horrible

[f1nalboys]

Okay, okay! So I love your poly!Ghostface dark/angst, but I wanna see you do some poly!Ghostface dark/fluff too(if that's a thing?)! Still unhealthy/toxic relationship, but one where their feelings are at least actually true and genuine. Trio vs the World shit. Best Friends to Lovers blah blah blah cause you know Im a slut for that lmao. NSFW too if you're willing 👀

AHH so glad I finally got to this request I'm sorry it took me so long :(( HOWEVER i had fun writing it!! i really hope you enjoy (ps, no smut unfortunately i tried to add it and it was coming out wrong ahhh) flashbacks are italicized! 

WORD COUNT: 2352

WARNINGS: toxic relationship, kinda cute moments between the three of you, cursing, little bit of stalking, threats of violence, no nsfw because i was a little lazy sorry :,(

Had someone told you five years ago that you'd be dating not only Billy Loomis but Stu Macher as well, you’d have laughed straight in their face. And yet here you were, curled up on the couch between the two, your legs thrown over Billys and your head resting on Stu’s shoulder, watching a horror movie. You smile softly as you feel Billy’s hand grip your thigh slightly. He never seemed to realize he was doing it which made it even cuter.

“Remember the day I met you guys?” You question, head moving off of Stu’s shoulder when he turns to look at you. He gives you a goofy grin and nods, kissing the tip of your nose. “Sure, baby. Why?”

“Did you think we would have gotten together? Like, back then?”

“Definitely,” Billy says, poking his finger into your side. You raise an eyebrow at him, catching his hand and holding it in your lap. He sighs, grinning slightly. “Alright, maybe not the day we met, but I knew pretty soon. Why? What’s got you thinking about it?”

You shrug, not really sure yourself. Something about the situation you three were in at the moment made your mind drift to those few awful god damn weeks. “You two really sucked then, you know? Honestly, I’m surprised I didn't kill you both.”

Stu gasps, throwing himself back with a hand on his heart. You roll your eyes; ever the dramatic. “You would have hurt us? I can’t believe this… the betrayal!” You elbow him and he sits back up, laughing, and wraps his arms around you, planting a few sloppy kisses onto your neck.

“We weren’t even that bad, babe.” Billy says, eyes widening as you glare at him.

“Not that bad? Do I need to remind you of the first thing you said to me when we met?” You shoot back, sitting up closer to Stu. You had already forgiven the two for how they acted then, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give them a hard time.

The first day you met Billy and Stu, it had started out good. You still didn’t have many friends but that was perfectly okay with you. You were sat in the grass outside one of the buildings where your next class was held, waiting. Thirty more minutes and you got to go to math; yay. You were leaned up against a tree, headphones in, trying to relax, when two men stood in front of you. They were pretty cute. One was tall, wearing a thin sweater and a goofy grin, while the other was shorter with dark hair and a smirk. The tall one's mouth moves and you pull your earbuds out, about to apologize for not hearing him, when the shorter one speaks.

“Pretty stupid to wait for someone to talk to you before taking your headphones out.” His smile was still there but it was clearly masking his annoyance. Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the gall of this dude. You don’t even know him and he thinks he’s owed a conversation?

“Excuse me?”

“What? You’re deaf and a bitch?” The taller one slaps the back of his head immediately and he grumbles, rubbing the soreness. You scoff, shaking your head, fuming. Was it just this dude or were most people here dicks? You didn't want to find out.

You stand, grabbing your bag and pushing past the two, heading towards the building. Your eyes instantly roll into the back of your head when you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. “Hey, I’m sorry about him, really. That’s how he jokes and sometimes it comes across as mean. I’m Stu and he’s Billy.”

Stopping in your tracks you turn to face Stu, the taller one, and take a second to think of a response. Glancing over at Billy, who had finally caught up with you, you can see what resembles regret on his features. “Well, he didn’t come across as mean, he came across as an asshole.”

Stu laughs, nodding. Billy shrugs, giving you that same weak smile he had shown when he approached. You shrug your backpack up higher onto your shoulder, the weight of it starting to get to you, when Billy grabs ahold of it and yanks it off of you. “What the hell? Give me my shit back!”

“Least I can do is to carry it for you. You going to class?” He asks. It’s like he wasn’t taking no for an answer. You give a large sigh and nod, silently thankful for the weight off your shoulders. “Which building?”

“Sycamore.” He nods and begins to walk there, you and Stu trailing behind him. “Is he always so...?” You ask Stu under your breath, trailing off, unsure of a word that could describe the man. He grins and nods. “Annoying? Mean? Stubborn? Yes, yes, and yes.”

Billy groans at the memory, annoyed. He hated when you brought that up. “I told you I was just having an off day! Come on, you’re acting like Stu didn’t offend you too! Do you not remember when you got food with us, like, that night?” Stu punches Billy in the shoulder hard, pissed that he had brought it up.

“Oh yeah! I kinda forgot about how much of a dickhead Stu was,” You say, leaning back against the couch. It really was a shock your relationship with the boys got to where it was now.

Billy and Stu followed you around all day. It seemed they were trying to apologize for Billy’s attitude earlier but, if you were being honest, it was kind of unnerving. After your math class, where they had walked you inside the building and only left when the professor came in, you saw them waiting outside under the tree you had been at.

“Can you guys stop following me?” You had told them the third time you noticed them, this time at the small diner you stopped by after your last class. Stu’s face turned red and he looked behind him as if there was someone else you could be talking about. “Yeah, you two.”

“We wanted to apologize for earlier,” Billy said, motioning for you to join them at their table. You had to choose which one to sit next too and, after your not-so-pleasant meeting with Billy that morning, you sat next to Stu. He sticks his tongue out at Billy who rolls his eyes.

“You already apologized. It’s getting kind of creepy.” You say, placing your elbow on the table. Before the boys could respond, the waitress walks over, placing down their drinks. She flashes you a smile and takes your order, walking off with a sway in her hips, much to the boy's enjoyment.

Stu throws an arm over your shoulder and you shrug him off, ignoring the pained look he gives you. “We just wanted to make sure you really knew we were sorry! Billy here never acts right around a hottie,”

“Stu you fucking idiot.” Billy spits, throwing something at him. Stu laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Billy looks at you and gives you what looks like a real, genuine smile. “Sorry about him; he can’t seem to think with his upstairs brain.”

“Don’t need to when my downstairs one leads me to be sitting next to a smoke show,” Stu says, holding his hand out to you for a high five. Your face flushes and you ignore him, scooting away from him slightly. He was cute, sure, but way too forward. “What? Can’t compliment people anymore?”

“Not when your compliments are preceded by stalking.” You mutter, a part of you hoping he doesn’t hear it. Unfortunately, he does. You see his face change in your peripheral vision and your eyes flick over to Billy. He grins at you, sitting back in the booth, and taking a sip from his drink. He was enjoying this.

“Stalking? You’re fucking with me, right?” His rant is cut short by the return of the waitress who hands you your drink and places the food the boys had ordered onto the table, completely oblivious to your discomfort. She leaves and Stu grabs a fry from his plate, chewing loudly. “We’re not fucking stalking you - trust me, there are better ways to spend our time.”

Billy throws his balled up straw wrapper at Stu, catching his attention, and you let out a soft sigh of relief when Stu’s demeanor changes. He was back to smiling and laughing as if he hadn’t just been attempting to tear you to shreds. “Sorry about that… I’m pretty tired, that’s all.” Stu says, playing with his fingers.

“S’okay, I guess.”

“Why don’t you let us take you on a date? You know, as an apology?” Billy chimes in and Stu grins, nodding. A large part of yourself was screaming no. There was something off about these boys, something dark just under the surface, but you were intrigued. And so you smile.

“Yeah, I guess you two can do that.”

Billy had his arms wrapped around you, laughing at the excuses Stu was stammering out. He was obviously getting frustrated at the memory and you opened your arms to let him join in on the cuddling.

“You know, I really am glad we stuck together. I don’t know what I’d do if it were for our nightly cuddle sessions,” You say, your words muffled by Stu’s sweater. He pulls back and gives you a kiss, Billy swooping in to take one from him as well.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without our fuck sessions,” Stu hums and you groan, punching him in the shoulder. What a way to ruin the moment. “Wait, let’s not act like you were a saint in all of this! I remember you being pretty awful at one point.”

“What?! No way!”

Billy nods, tickling your sides for a second. “Sure were, babe.”

Two months into the relationship was your breaking point. You really did like, if not love, the boys and yet you were still an outsider. Walking into the shared apartment just for their whispered conversations to stop. Late nights spent in the living room with hushed voices while you tried to sleep. You felt as though you only knew a portion of the two people you had come to like; no, love.

You admit it was petty. It wasn’t the right thing to do in any circumstance, but you did it because you knew it would get a reaction. You had packed a bag and sat in the living room. You wanted them to see you leave. Wanted them to see how much their secrecy had taken. You had been together only a short while and yet you felt so at home with them that the idea of actually leaving, of breaking it off, nearly tore you apart.

The door opens and in enters Billy and Stu, wrapped up in their own conversation. Stu waves at you, carrying on before realizing what he had just seen. “Babe? What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” Your voice was confident, not a waver in sight, and you knew it was because you weren’t planning on leaving. Some would call it manipulation, sure, but you were backed into a corner. Stu’s mouth drops open and Billy stares at you, his eyes narrowed.

“What? What do you mean you’re leaving? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Stu rushes to sit down next to you on the couch, not wanting to accept the idea that you were leaving them on your own volition. His arms wrap around yours and you shove him off. “Babe?”

You shake your head, standing from your spot on the couch, grabbing ahold of the bag. Billy was still standing near the door, his arms crossed, watching you. “Don’t call me that. The two of you… It’s like I’m not even in this relationship. I’m an outsider with the two people I love and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Where the hell is this coming from?” Billy questions, grabbing ahold of your arm when you try to walk past him. His voice is thick and you could see the vein in his forehead throbbing. He was angry and you hate to admit it but that’s exactly what you were hoping for.

For the next two hours the three of you talk about your relationship and the future of it. Stu cried, you cried, Billy sniffled a few times, and then you came to an agreement. No more secrets. They told you things that they hadn't told anyone before that they hid behind a vague threat of ‘once you hear this you’re stuck with us,’ and you told them things you had planned on taking to your grave. To say you weren’t shocked at what they told you would be a lie.

Murder wasn’t what you thought they were capable of and especially not murder so gruesome. But, oddly, you felt better about being with them. They trusted you, loved you, enough to let you know their biggest and darkest secret. And you loved it.

Knowing they wouldn’t hesitate to kill for you was a major turn on, which they soon found out.

“Wow, I really was kind of horrible, wasn’t I.” You mutter as Billy recounts the memory with a few interruptions by Stu. You didn’t remember it that way but the more they talked the more you could tell they were being honest. “Well, good thing we stuck together, hm? Would have been pretty bad if we hadn’t.”

“Yeah because we would have killed you,” Billy whispers into your ear and you shiver. He’s telling the truth and that’s what makes the relationship the way it is; they choose to be with you, to keep you around, to love you. “Yeah, we would have given you a call a while ago,” Stu says, his finger making a slicing motion across your neck.

You roll your eyes not because you don’t believe them but because you do. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#s1mping4slashers masterlist #s1mping4slashers works #s1mping4slashers answers #s1mping4slashers writing #billy loomis #stu macher #scream #scream 1996 #billy x stu x reader #billy x stu #poly!ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher fic #slasher imagines #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #reader insert

[obeiii-mee]

MC had a bad day or they’re dealing with a bad loss from a loved one. So they decide to seek comfort from the Brothers! But they don’t do it in a normal way, they just barge in the room where the brothers are all relaxing or hanging out at before MC just busts in getting their attention and they go “I need a hug 🥺”. Let’s see the some fluffy hc’s of the brothers comforting MC 🥰

And how could they not want to hug their cute human that is literally 3 seconds away from breaking down into tears?

The Brothers Comforting MC After A Bad Day:

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You’re right, they wouldn’t be able to resist, they love their human too much 😌

*soBS* I want to hug one of them so bad rn

Thank you for the request, I love writing fluffy HCs, it’s my weak spot and it gives me serotonin. I hope you have a nice day/night!! Uh, it’s sort of implied that MC is slightly shorter than them so sorry if that’s a problem-

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Notes: Fluff, mentions of loss and dead family members/friends, mostly comfort though, short HCs

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beezlebub and Belphegor.

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Lucifer:

-He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t really need to because him just being there, arms wrapped around you and hands lightly running up and down your back, is worth more words than any sort of verbal consolation he could’ve given you and because of this, you feel at ease

-His touch is firm but gentle and you relax almost immediately, burying your head against his chest and feeling him press a kiss on top of your hairline, tightening your hold on him

-He already told his brothers to back off because the last thing he wanted was for you you to get overwhelmed by their insensitivity so you two were left in the living room by yourselves

-In a bit of an awkward position though, because you were both standing and after a while, it was clear a hug wasn’t going to be enough

-That’s his excuse as to why he picked you up bridal style five minutes later and carried you all the way to his bedroom, a place he knows his siblings won’t ever trespass without his permission and somewhere he can shield you from any prying eyes while you’re in this vulnerable state

-At this point, he was basically cradling you like a baby, having you sit on his lap and waiting for you to tire yourself out until you couldn’t cry anymore and watching you slip into that hiccuping stage you get after a breakdown

-Lucifer is obviously going to ask what happened, but whether you answer him or not is up to you because he’s not one to push matters if he sees you’re uncomfortable talking about it

-However, he might insist if he concludes that it’s affecting you and your well being and that’s how you know usually know he’s worried

-His voice is soft though and just listening to it makes you want to tell him everything, whether it’d be something as annoying as a small inconvenience you stumbled across that day or the death of a relative, you feel welcomed enough to spill everything

-Even if you decide not to, he’ll stay with you until you feel better, until you’re no longer crying or shaking or anything of the sort. He speaks occasionally, almost soothingly about how important you are to him and how capable you are of overcoming anything in your way. For the most part, however, he remains quiet and allows you to mull over your thoughts, willing to forget about his paperwork just to let you cling to him for a few hours

-Maybe later, when you’re no longer as distressed, he could get the full story out of you and help you overcome whatever problem you’re having trouble facing but for now, he understands all you need is for him to be there

“MC?” He calls your name out because he was thinking that maybe you had fallen asleep but he realised that was not the case when you looked up at him, streaks of tears still sliding down your cheeks. When you don’t respond, he sighs almost contently “A bit longer?” You don’t answer again but this time, he could feel you nod against him and he smiles despite himself as he leaned his head against yours “All right then, just a bit longer.”

Mammon:

-Truth be told, he’s never been the best at comforting someone and normally, he’s kind of awkward when he wants to show his support because it feels so out of his character

-But it’s not like he was going to refuse you anyway. Not when you specifically came to him and asked him for help and not when you looked like you were on the verge of crying. He’d be a monster to deny you >:(

-It upsets him too, you know. He’s meant to be your protector, guardian even, so the fact that he couldn’t keep you from getting hurt makes him feel like he failed at keeping his human safe. Actually, it takes a lot of convincing on your part just to tell him that you’re not actually physically hurt. Just a shitty day…

-Mammon, despite the walls he puts up ever now and then, is someone that genuinely cares for you. And he’s also the type that does almost everything in excess, especially when it comes to you or spending money. That’s just his personality; he’s loud and boisterous and even though he wants to deny this, completely transparent with his emotions

-You ask for a hug? He gives you plenty of hugs! He lets you lay on top of him while cuddling so he can hold you!!! He brings you snacks and drinks!!! Shit, he basically cradles you the whole night!!! And he’s blushing and acting annoyed the entire time, refusing to accept how much he’s actually enjoying this

-The point is, he tends to coddle you whenever you have a bad day or if you’re really affected by the loss of a dead loved one. This is probably because he, in turn, likes to be babied and cared for when he’s feeling down and he subconsciously does that to you because it’s the only means of comfort he knows how to execute well

-A hug would’ve sufficed, but you’re his human and let him be damned if he’s not gonna give you the world on a silver platter if you keep looking at him with those sad eyes of yours

-By now, if you need anything, you just need to ask because even with a bit of grumbling, he’ll get it for you. More snacks? Say less. Wanna watch TV with him for a while? Immediately reaches for the remote? You just want to cuddle? His body is naturally warm for a reason bby, dig in. You want his heart? Give him a moment to surgically get it out of his chest-

-No matter what, he’s so glad that you trust him enough to talk to him about this sort of stuff and that he’s the first person you think of when you need consolation

-It makes sense after all, right? He’s your first pact so your direct happiness is his responsibility while you’re in DevilDom! It’s his job to make sure you function again by tomorrow morning and that you’re no longer troubled by anything

“Hey! What’s with all the crying huh?” He cups your face in his hands and softly squishes the flesh between his fingers. His thumbs brush over the tears in your eyes and he let’s out a small ‘tsk’ as your foreheads touch and his hands drip to your shoulders to keep you steady “The Great Mammon is hugging ya right now, ya know? There’s no reason for you to be upset, not when I’ve got ya in my arms like this, OK? So you can stop with yer water works now.” As noisy as his voice is, there’s a gentle note behind it when he speaks and embraces you, his cologne spreading everywhere “I love you, ya big idiot. So please, stop cryin’ and lemme hold ya already! Yer making me worried, ya stupid human.”

Levi:

-You stopping by his room is not unusual. In fact, you do it every day and it’s just part of the routine you have with him. However, he’s wasn’t exactly expecting you to stand there, all shaken up and ask him for a hug!!!

-And he doesn’t process this request for a second but then he freaks out so badly-

-Yells incomprehensibly about how you’re ‘pulling your normie tricks on him again’ and how he’s ‘not going to be fooled by them anymore.’

-You raise your head to meet his eyes while he’s still rambling on though and he sees your teary expression and now he feels guilty because you look really upset. Levi’s kinda scared he made it worse-

-He’s the type to usher you in his room and lock the door as usual but instead of doing what the two of you always do, you literally stay attached to him because you need comfort damn it!

-Levi….is sort of clueless about these emotional outbursts since he himself doesn’t deal with them very well. However, he’s watched enough animes revolving around romance to conclude on the best course of action so-do not fear! (Spoiler, he still doesn’t know what he’s doing)

-He’s really stuck and can either stay as quiet as a nun or start babbling in a language you probably wouldn’t even understand because he’s so nervous

-Or actually, he might start crying with you if I’m being fair; he’s very in sync with his Henry and your emotions

-Once he calms down, he’s actually not all that bad at comforting. Levi is a bit stand offish with his hugs at first but he relaxes into them and by now, you’re both standing by the side of his bed, with you leaning onto him and him holding your hand. He then intertwines your fingers together but subconsciously because he wouldn’t have the gall otherwise

-Later, he tells you to help yourself with the snacks he has hidden in his room. I guarantee you he has a whole ass mini refrigerator hidden somewhere for his all night gaming session, in case he needs any boosts. No one knows how Beel hasn’t found the stash yet and there’s no need to tell him

-Then you watch re runs of old shows together and make fun of the shitty editing and dialogue. He’s still holding your hand though and he’s really flustered and wondering if it’s too sweaty for you but don’t mention it because he’ll get even more embarrassed

-He glances over to you, every once in a while, whilst you’re cuddled up against his arm, eyes glued on the TV, to make sure you’re OK. You almost gave him a seizure or at least that’s how he felt-so he made it his mission to make you feel better by any means necessary. Fuck today’s raids, his team can get them done without him!!

“I-I don’t know why you would want me of all people to hug you but…” he trailed off in a whisper, having to lean down so you could wrap your arms against his neck and bury your head in his shoulder. He pulled you in closer, a streak of protectiveness coursing through him as he shut the door to his room with his foot “Lord of the Shadows would never leave Henry all on his own, so I’m not going to do that either. This is an important character development arc and-just, please don’t cry. I’ll give you more hugs, OK? Seeing you like this is not good for my heart-“ stopped mid sentence after realising what he just said and now he’s the one burying his head in your shoulder, flushed beyond hell “Forget I just said that! Holy Lord Diavolo this is embarrassing, why am I like this????”

Satan:

-It troubles him greatly to see you like this and he can sort of feel the world shift out of place, seeing you with tears running down your face and hands balled into fists out of frustration almost immediately makes him fly into a fit of rage because who would dare to hurt you-

-Oh, a hug? If that’s all you need, he’s more than happy to oblige but if you’re as distraught as you seem to be, he wonders if just a small embrace from him would be enough

-Satan’s hugs are very intimate and even passionate at times. He has one hand on the back of your head and the other supporting your lower back while you bawl your eyes out into his shoulder and getting his uniform wet

-You can’t really seem to focus on what he’s trying to tell you because he’s so warm and welcoming and even though he’s someone as renowned as the Avatar of Wrath, he’s shockingly patient with you as you let out the overwhelming emotions that have been consuming you all day

-It’s hard to not relax when you’re in Satan’s presence because he’s calm and he smells like musty, old books and mahogany wood and cats, meaning he was most likely cuddling strays he found on the street the entire day. The first visual that comes to mind is fire crackling behind a grate in a chimney and someone reading a book while swinging back and forth on an old, rickety chair when you’re around him

-He will wait until you’re no longer crying and then, before you know it, you find yourself in the library with him, drinking tea and being handed a plate of biscuits he took from the kitchen to help you regain your strength after all that crying. You’re still feeling pretty miserable about the day you’ve had but you quickly lose yourself in a conversation with him over a cup of tea

-Sometimes, you two talk for hours on end about nothing important just to hear each other’s voices and finally have some quality time spent together. Even though he wishes the circumstances were better, he’s glad to have been able to snatch you away from his brothers for a while and he’s even happier you chose him to confide in

-Satan practically doesn’t even mention your outburst and keeps the small talk minimal but he wants you to know that if you do wish to tell him about it, he’s more than happy to listen and he’s not so bad at giving advice either

-The topic of the discussion you were having with him changed abruptly by the end of the night and now you’re reading together from this book he started a while ago, both of you covered with a blanket, your head on his chest and his leaning on yours. He’s holding the book with both of his hands, but still managed to get his left wrapped around you. And because of this feeling of safety and warmth, you don’t feel desperate anymore. Tomorrow, you’ll be able to sort out your feelings but now, you’re content to just listening to Satan read, in his clear, soft voice

“Ah MC, could you turn the page for me?” You do as he asked to and you could feel him smiling as he kissed your hairline, sighing before going back to the book and the story within “Thank you. You truly are amazing, did you know that? I’ve never met someone as caring and as kind as you. Well, I suppose Beel could compete for the title but unlike him, you don’t really leave us in debt whenever we visit the grocery store.” Hearing you laugh makes him smile even more and he lets you hold the other side of the book while he plays with your hair and now you join in reading with him, out loud and trying to act out voices for the characters. As everything unfolds, Satan feels the world click right back into place.

Asmo:

-It’s a known fact by now that Asmo is willing to give you any sort of affection at any point in time, whether it’d be a hug, a kiss, holding your hand-you name it! I mean, whenever he’s feeling down, you being there to encourage him helps a lot so it’s only natural it works the other way around too!

-If he notices that you’re genuinely upset by something, then he would have no problem whatsoever with lavishing you in attention and really, a hug or two from him is the bare minimum in situations like this

-In any case, he always enjoys fussing over you and you having a bad day is the perfect excuse for him to do so! After all, he can’t disappoint you since you came to him with your troubles and he will do anything in his power to make you feel better. Actually, if he could, he would keep hugging you forever but as miraculous as his charm can be, it’s not effective against someone with this low of a morale

-His first suggestion is to take a bath! It’s his way of taking care of you; you’re tired after such a long day and he feels like you’re neglecting yourself a little because of it. So you relax in his bathtub with him for a while, him actively trying to get your mind off any bad, lingering thoughts while you splash around in the bubbles

-And obviously after that, you need to have your mandatory spa sessions with him since you need to unwind and what’s a better way to do that than to let him paint your nails and apply lotion to your skin? Besides, it creates a great opportunity for you to take things off your chest

-He’s in need to hear gossip constantly so if you don’t feel like talking, he’s gonna be a bit bummed out but he still respects your wishes enough to not push you. If your problem is as sensitive as the death of a family member, you’re not obligated to talk to him about it and he will understand, since people grieve in different ways. He too shut down after the death of Lilith for a while after all

-A bad day is nothing Asmo can’t handle. He’s had plenty of those before, mostly because of Mammon and his thievery, they’re usually common factors. It’s only natural you experience those yourself and he’s more than willing to be your support system if you need one. He wants you to know that you can go to him if you need advice or help with anything, or even if you just need to someone to hear you out

-To give a more detailed explanation of his hugs, they are usually really light and you never feel suffocated when you’re in his arms. He never squeezes you too tight and he always smells amazing, so you feel inclined to stay near him for as long as possible. Despite his overtly loud nature, he gets incredibly soft spoken with you and he traces patterns on your back and arms as you stand there together

-It’s important to mention, he never pulls away from you first. He lets you decide when you’ve had enough and when you’re ready to move on or if you require some other means of comfort

-And even if you’re no longer disgruntled, he’s still going to pamper you as much as possible the next day with either a shopping spree or another few spa sessions, this time done at a professional institution rather than the privacy of his bedroom

-Asmo is in touch with your emotions and it’s kinda scary sometimes because of how well he can read you, since he almost always knows what you need

“Oh darling, how could I refuse a hug from you?” You can feel his arms embrace you, even with your eyes closed and for some reason, this makes you cry even harder, sobbing as he tries to comfort you. You’re aware he let go of you at some point and returned with a tissue to dab away at your tears, gently to not hurt your eyes and now he’s hugging you again, a wry smile on his face “You don’t have to worry about a thing, MC. Everything will get sorted out, I promise. In the meantime, come to me if anything troubles you again, OK? No more crying, darling-it’s bad for your eyes.”

Beel:

-The type to immediately lean in for a hug without even questioning why. As soon as you ask him, you barely have time to finish the question and you already find yourself in his arms. The only exception would be when he’s eating or maybe in the middle of a work out but the point is he doesn’t hesitate much when it comes to you. And I mean, he loves hugs just as much as his siblings do

-Beel is not the most observant and he may not realise you’re in a bad mood unless you tell him outright. It’s not even that he’s emotionally distant, it’s just that if you tell him that you’re fine, then he’s gonna take your word for it and believe you since he’s pretty straightforward with his feelings as well. However, as dense as he may be on occasion, even he’s bound to notice that you’re not being your usual self and this is especially true if you start crying out of nowhere while he’s nearby. Probably assumes the worst and is under the impression that he did something to upset you because shifting the blame onto himself whenever others suffer is his coping mechanism and we’ve seen him to do it before

-If you’ve just had a bad day, he understands that things could’ve been very overwhelming for you and he wishes he had known sooner so he could’ve helped back then, instead of letting it come to this. But he doesn’t hesitate all that much since he looks like he’s built for giving hugs on a daily basis. I’m not even sure this would classify as a hug since you’re not touching the floor. Rather, you are attached to him like a koala and he’s carrying you around as if you were a baby strapped to his chest. And he genuinely doesn’t mind. He’s been doing it with Belphie for centuries now

-Please, after a while he gets seriously concerned because are humans supposed to cry this much? What if you dehydrate or something? So he makes you stay in bed and just gives you plenty of water. You look so pale and sad, he shares his food with you too because his heart is aching just looking at you like this. He feels like besides being there, he can’t provide you with much help and he’s starting to think he’s hopeless at comforting

-If a family member died then…Beel is one of the best people you could’ve gone to. Honestly, having dealt with his sister’s situation, he knows how horrible it is to lose somebody you love dearly (I mean, all the brothers do but I’m making a point saying Beel, Belphie and Lucifer were especially affected). Now he’s sad himself since he’s aware that you’re going through something similar and his twin might walk in on the two of you being emotional on the floor

-For the most part, Beel makes sure you keep yourself healthy even when you’re tired and depressed. Continues to bring you food, even if he eats half of it on his way to your room, and just keeps you company in general in case you get lonely. Seeing you upset makes him even more considerate of your feelings and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t need to stay with you all night. He thinks he does because you’ve always offered to stay with him whenever he’s had nightmares before so how he’s gotta return the favour

-Beel gives these bear hugs all the time, since he’s so big and his hand basically covers your entire back. So, more often than not, you end up cuddling while standing because he’s a lot taller than you, with him being a demon and all. Despite that, you feel so unbelievably complete when he holds you like this. It’s hard not to feel protected since his whole body is practically concealing yours so easily all the time and you feel sheltered from the world and it’s….nice

-And Beel enjoys hugging you too, because he knows that as long as he’s nearby, you’ll be safe and that’s really all he needs. He wants to be there for you the same way you were there for him when he needed it most and comforting you when you’re having a shitty day is like his full time job

-You could come to Beel with any problem and he would never judge you, no matter what. He’s just really unproblematic and he just wants you to go back to your normal self because it hurts him to see you cry your eyes out. Now, not only are hugs mandatory but holding your hand is too. It’s like hugging…but your hands are doing the hugging

-Definitely even goes to Belphie after a while if he really doesn’t know what to do and that’s how you know he’s desperate to do something. Since the Seventh Born isn’t exactly someone that yields great advice, more so when it comes to other…people….and his twin knows this-

-Beel’s best strategy at the moment is to just maintain some kind of physical contact because he discovered that makes you feel better and it calms you down more than him trying to verbally console you. He even invited you to sleep in his room if you’re comfortable doing so just so you’re not alone. After that one incident, he’s trying to coax you to tell him whenever something is wrong so he can jump in and help, because that’s all he really wants to do ahakenksms

“MC? Did something happen?” He’s honestly taken aback by how shaky you are and how you’re hands are trembling as they’re reaching to connect with his. Without much of a warning, he feels a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach and now he discovers that he doesn’t like seeing you with tears trailing down your face. And he feels worse the longer you wail in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do. So, he wraps his arms around you so tight you think you might explode, strangely comforted by the feeling as he speaks again “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you. What can I do to help, MC? We can just stay like this for a while if you want” And when he sees you nod, he proceeds to not move an inch almost the entire night. Obviously, hunger overtook him eventually but he shared his stolen goods with you so can you really complain? Doubtful, not when he hasn’t let go of your hand the whole time.

Belphie:

- Hugging him is a gamble. Realistically speaking, you’re not going to catch him standing upright long enough for you to give him a hug. He’s laying on the floor somewhere, asleep so you shouldn’t expect much from him to begin with. Even if you were to get lucky and stumble upon him while he’s wide awake, he might slump over and succumb to sleep the moment you embrace him because you’re so warm

-Cuddling is a different story altogether. He’d rather shoot himself in the foot than not have you cuddle with him so if you need to be babied for once, he’s a pretty good option to consider

-As usual, he’s in the attic and you go to him because it’s really late and you didn’t want to wake up any of the other brothers. Actually, Belphie is normally awake by dusk so to see him sleep like a log past midnight was quite surprising. You didn’t exactly want to interrupt but if you stayed alone for any longer, you would’ve gone insane. So you shook him awake. And he was understandably confused and probably forgot what planet he was on for a minute when you did so

-Technically, he was half awake and from his point of view, everything must’ve been pretty blurry. He did see you; the problem was that because he was still feeling very sleepy, he was basically in a daze and could only squint at you to try and figure out if you were really there or if he was hallucinating. His suspicion was confirmed soon enough because he reached out after a few seconds and poked your cheek just to check. His face the entire time and the action itself was so amusing that, despite tittering on the edge of a breakdown, you burst out laughing

-Once he came to the conclusion that you were, in fact, real and he wasn’t dreaming, he sighed and opened his arms out for you; a direct invitation to cuddle with him. By now, he likely didn’t even noticed you looked sad because, as I said, he was all over the place but this little ritual you two have was common enough that it got engraved in his memory. Now he does it out of impulse whenever you’re around and he wants attention

-So you basically tackled him and threw yourself on top of him so hard, both of you toppled over on the bed and now you were used as a blanket, with his arms wrapped securely around you; preventing you from getting up. Not that you were planning on doing that anytime soon but moving on-

-You thought he had fallen back asleep, because he went really quiet and he stopped squirming to get comfortable. To be exact, the whole room was rather still and the only thing you could really hear was Belphie’s soft breathing and the rustle of the bedsheets every once in a while. And since it was extremely dark as well, you couldn’t see a thing either so it felt like the best place to let go of your stress

-It’s not like you were making much noise but as I said, the seventh born wasn’t sleeping just yet. And he wouldn’t be able to because it was obvious to him now that something was wrong. He believed that he was bearing witness to something that should’ve been a lot more private than this so he didn’t say anything. You should have your moment, let you have a chance to recollect your thoughts and the next day, he might ask you

-It was too much to handle. It’s not like he was gonna get any sleep unless he knew your problem was solved otherwise he might get nightmares all night. Besides, if you’re crying this much, then something terrible must’ve happened. You realised he was awake when he gave your entire body a small squeeze, as if to reassure you and you froze because did you just wake him up???? Or worse, did he hear all that sobbing you were doing????

-Hugging him is similar to hugging a pillow. He’s soft and squishy and warm and it’s impossible to resist him when rest at a time like this is so tempting. His fingers running over your pact mark once or twice, as if to remind you that he’s right there and low whispers describing the best dream he ever had about you, hoping to distract you for long enough to help you fall asleep

-To him, it doesn’t make a difference if a family member died or if you’re just having a bad day. All he knows is that you’re having a lot of emotional problems because of either one and as a result, you need a shoulder to lean on. He’s glad that you trust him enough to let him assist and if it was up to him, he would keep cuddling you forever. You’ve already suffered enough so let him take care of you this time around, OK?

“Dumbass, why are you crying?” The gentleness of his words was a clear contrast to that quick insult he shoved at the beginning of his statement, though you couldn’t hear any malice behind it and the fact that he really cared about what happened to cause you to struggle with your emotions so badly, would’ve made you wail even harder. However, he managed to silence you pretty well because he kept speaking and you wanted to listen; you wanted to hear what he had to say so you reduced your sobs and you sat quietly enough to do just that. Belphie flipped you over, now with him on top and you underneath and he laid there, cheek sloshed against yours as he sleepily mumbled out more praise for you, “MC, are you tired? You should go to bed, you need to get some sleep. Tomorrow, you can tell me what the problem is and I’ll help. I promise-I’ll even get up early for you. Just…please calm down. I don’t want to see you crying yourself to sleep ever again. I’ll stay here the entire time, alright? And I’ll make sure you have nice dreams tonight MC…just let me hold you…”

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me comfort #obey me hcs #⭐️ #🌸 #🦚 lucifer supremacy #💳 mammon supremacy #🐡 levi supremacy #📚 satan supremacy #🪞asmo supremacy #🍔 beel supremacy #💫 belphie supremacy

[miekasa]

iced tea

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, levi is the best not yet boyfriend au, erwin would definitely be an insufferable project partner to have but you gotta love him au

+ summary: there are three rules of night class. come on time, come prepared, and come with snacks. you forget about rule number three. luckily, levi’s there to save the day.

There’s only one appeal to signing up for a three-hour night class, and it’s that you only ever have to muster up the will to attend once a week. It’s a sacrifice, but it definitely cuts down on the temptation of skipping like you would a normal, one-hour section course. Just one and done.

Plus, you have Erwin with you in this class. Is he a little bit of a professor’s pet and consistently overly chipper every class despite knowing he’s about to endure 180 minutes of lecture? Sure, but at least you don’t have to suffer alone.

Really, it’s not as bad as it sounds, especially if the course is interesting enough, or easy enough, and luckily for you, yours is both. Not to mention, your professor is brilliant, actually entertaining, and does her best to keep the class engaging—she’s funny in the dorky, lovable professor kind of way. And she gives you short, ten to fifteen minute breaks at every hour mark just to make sure everyone doesn’t completely lose their minds.

It’s a commitment, but you’ve grown to actually enjoy it. As long as you follow the three rules of night class: come on time, come with your notes prepared so that you don’t get upstaged by Erwin, and come with—

“Fuck,” you curse, watching as Erwin pulls out one of his many, tiny, organic, boxed juices. The ones meant for children with soy sensitivities that Erwin claims are packed with more nutrients.

“What’s up?” He questions, more shocked than concerned, at your sudden profanity as he sets his juice box in the right corner of his desk.

You pout. “I forgot to bring snacks.”

Come on time, come with your notes prepared so that you don’t get upstaged by Erwin, and come with snacks. Those were the only three rules of night class, and you’d completely forgotten about the most important one.

“Oh,” Erwin grins, pulling a chocolate bar from his lunch bag and taunting you with it, “Sounds like a you problem.”

You snatch a piece from the top corner, stuffing part of it into your mouth to spite him; but you regret your choices as soon as it melts on your tongue.

“What the fuck—is this mint chocolate?” you complain, swallowing the rest of the sweet with disdain.

“Yes it is,” Erwin huffs, grabbing the remaining stolen bit from between your fingers and popping it into his mouth, “And it is delicious.”

“You’re an actual menace to society.”

Erwin crinkles his nose at you, “A menace to society with snacks for the next three hours.”

His comment makes you groan, albeit a little dramatically, and you slump back in your chair to debate your options. Class doesn’t start for another twelve minutes; you could try and run to the student center quickly to buy some last minute snacks, but the line was probably already lengthy with students of similar trains of thought, meaning you’d be late if you stuck it out, which would leave you violating rules one and three tonight. Erwin makes you sit in the front row with him, and you were not willing to take the late walk of shame with an armful of snacks in tow.

You could wait it out until the first hour break, but they’ll probably be sold out of anything good by then, not to mention the race to beat out the line again. If you played your cards right, you could order food during class and time it so that it was delivered during your break, but that was risky.

Alternatively, you could try and sprint to the concessions stand near the library, but going there and back was so much further away than the student center; you’d probably end up late, too.

“Hey,” you call to Erwin, refraining from rolling your eyes as he sets all six thousand and twenty eight of his colored pens on his desk for the evening, “Is Hange still on campus?”

“No, they have work today.”

You groan. Why did Hange have to be so responsible and good with their time-management skills. They was your last hope. Unless—

“Do you think Levi will bring me Starbucks?”

“Probably,” Erwin shrugs, humming to himself; but then he thinks it over, replying again with a knowing smirk on his face, “Actually, definitely. If he’s still here, but he probably is. You know him.”

You pout, the possibility of Levi being home is high, but so is that of him being cooped up in his favorite library. Either way, he would likely be studying right now, and you’d hate to disturb him, but desperate times call for desperate measures. 

[sent 6:47pm] you — leeevaaaaaaaaai are you still on campus

[received 6:47pm] leeevaaai — yes — why, what’s wrong

[sent 6:47pm] you — uwu — wanna bring me something from starbucks before class — i have my 3 hour lecture today and i forgot snacks :—( — and erwin won’t share his organic $1500 whole foods gummy bears with me

[received 6:48pm] leeevaaai — i told you i don’t like the smileys with the noses, they’re ugly — should you even be drinking coffee this late, you’ll be up until the ass crack of dawn

You scoff audibly, and Erwin takes this as an invitation to peep at your screen. Your comment about his snacks does not go unnoticed, as bitterly munches on his (yes, in fact, organic and gluten-free, as if it being mint flavored wasn’t criminal enough) chocolate bar.

[sent 6:48pm] you — that’s RICH coming from you mister

[received 6:48pm] leeevaaai — you’re being awfully rude to someone you expect to buy you a $7 drink

[sent 6:48pm] you — hehe sorry i loooove you leeevaaai — venti iced chai latte — light ice

[received 6:49pm] leeevaaai — do you think i don’t know your overpriced starbucks order by now

[sent 6:49pm] you — uwu :—)

[received 6:49pm] leeevaaai — but you’re getting a grande, i’m not made of money — and it’s punishment for sending another ugly nose smiley

[sent 6:49pm] you — un-uwu

“I don’t blame him,” Erwin chuckles, scrunching the wrapper from his now finished bar between his fingers.

You flick him away, ignoring the turning heads of your classmates as Erwin’s pens fall in the aftermath. It’s seven o’clock on the dot when your laptop pings loudly with an incoming message from Levi—and a subsequent groan from Erwin, who breeches your personal space once more to press the mute button on your keyboard.

[received 7:00pm] leeevaaai — where are you sitting

[sent 7:00pm] you — front row to the right — erwin’s idea not mine

Levi spots Erwin’s bright blonde hair before he sees you, scoffing to himself as he makes his way to the front of the room; a tray with three Starbucks cups, and a plastic bag in tow. Erwin sees him first, too, waving at him as he crosses from the left side to where the two of you are seated.

“Aw, Levi, you brought me one!” Erwin all but squeaks, reaching for one of the other drinks with grabby hands after you take your iced drink from the tray.

But Levi pulls one hot drink from the tray for himself, and pulls the remaining one out of arm’s reach. “As if,” he grumbles, bringing his own cup to his lips. 

“You’re the best, Levi,” you smile, sticking your tongue out at Erwin. Levi only offers you a small nod as acknowledgement. He extends his left hand now, the plastic bag sliding off his wrist and onto your desk, silently.

Confused, you lean forward, setting your drink down to open the contents of the bag. Inside, there are two granola bars, a bagel, cream cheese, some kind of sandwich, and a small Nutella to-go cup with mini breadsticks attached. When you look back up at Levi, he simply shrugs, sipping on his drink again while a light pink dusts over the tips of his ears. 

“You said you forgot your snacks,” he explains, “I knew you’d text me the whole time, bitching about how Erwin wouldn’t share his zero-calorie lemon rinds if you didn’t have your own.”

You take note that the chai he brought you was, in fact, a venti, and not a grande like he’d threatened, and that the granola bars in the bag are not only your favorite flavor, but from your favorite brand, too; and you find yourself smiling as you decipher the very clear message underneath Levi’s less than poetic words.

“What’s in the other cup?” Erwin asks, pointing at the remaining drink. Levi carefully lifts it from the tray, and sets it down on the other corner of your desk, a safe distance away from your laptop.

“Tea,” he says shortly, “So you don’t lose your mind after inhaling your coffee.”

“This is tea, too. Chai is tea, Levi.”

“Tea without milk or six kilograms of sugar,” Levi corrects you, “Or ice.”

“Iced tea is tea, you know.”

Levi doesn’t respond to that with anything but a glare. You smile at his stoicism. Erwin thinks the whole exchange is kind of weird, and wonders where you possibly get the gall to make fun of his taste in snacks when you can’t even realize you’re in love with a man who refuses to identify iced tea as a valid form of tea. 

“I better go before she starts,” Levi speaks, a single hand referencing to your professor behind him, who looks just about ready to begin class for the evening, “Call me when you’re done, I’ll drive you two home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to, Erwin and I usually take the b—”

“Brat,” Levi cuts your words short, “Call me when you’re finished. I’ll be in the library.”

You throw daggers at him with your eyes, but your resolve is waning, once again, as you closely read at the implications of Levi’s promise. You accept, and Erwin is more than happy for the free ride.

Levi hums. “And eat the bagel before the Nutella.”

“You’re annoying.”

“I’m a saint,” Levi deadpans, placing the palm of his hand on the top of your head affectionately, “Call me.”

He walks away before you can debate again, just as your professor speaks into the microphone to grab everyone’s attention. You scrunch your nose, hands flying to your hair to smooth out the aftermath of Levi’s playfulness, before opening your notes for the evening.

“You’re really dense aren’t you?” Erwin asks, one eyebrow raised, but the overall look on his face is more than fond, “It’s kind of cute.”

“Huh?” you question, cheeks stuffed with food as you bite into your bagel, “Dense about what?”

Erwin shakes his head, turning back to laptop with an exasperated expression, the fondness in his eyes fading quickly. “Hopeless,” he mumbles, “The both of you.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #levi fluff #levi smut #erwin x reader #eren x reader

[applesontheground]

your own prometheus 💉

CHAPTER ONE letting me in or letting me go | AO3

 SFW | Word Count: 2,614 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain

contains: canon typical, exposition (better tags + notes in the AO3 link!!)

🎼: x (yes i made a playlist for this fic don’t look at me like that)

continued in i’m walking a line ➡

The elevator creaked, a red number flickering above your head with each passing floor. 2…3…4…

Your eyes were glued to the screen, a stack of returning documents tucked to your chest, and your focus just as steadfast on getting them where they needed to be so you could call it a day. The workdays often flew by with all the running around you did, but that didn’t mean you weren’t dog tired by the end.

7…8. Your stare fell to the doors, body shooting forward as they slid open.

You were the first to hop out and beat the crowd, a spring in your step as you passed the small group going in and giving a nod to anyone that gave you a passing glance. You didn’t quite look fit for an attorney’s office with sneakers that would squeak if you weren’t methodical with how you tread the freshly waxed floors, but anyone who had the gall to say anything would promptly figure you weren’t anyone important enough to criticize in the first place. That was how you liked it at the end of the day.

“[Mr./Ms.] [L/N]. Right on time.” The secretary stood when he saw you turn from the hall and approach the front counter, leading a few people standing by to glance as you trotted over. Your arm stretched over to him with the stack, and you simply chimed, “Always am, sir.” The moment the weight was taken from your hand, you already had a leg pointed back the way you came and gave him another quaint smile. “Have a good one.”

Running all over Essex county to make sure documents from law offices, police stations, and hospitals got to one another was anything but easy. They kept your shoes worn in the soles, pacing down hallways with various packets: documents ensuring someone was insured before an operation, freshly sealed copies of the death certificate to meet the hands of attorneys, or fresh warrants to transport to the jails – just in case they didn’t book the right person. It all went through your hands at one point or another, which made you feel some semblance of importance you supposed. It was as though you were a fly on the wall, existing between being removed as much as you were embedded within happenings in town, knowing everything and nothing about how it all worked.

No one really recognized you outside of that, which again, was how you preferred things.

After a brief stop by the records office, an off-shoot from the local police station, you said goodnight to the clerks and strode back out as soon as you had come. The early Summer air, like an open door to the long evening ahead, kissed you as you took your time making it to your car. Recollections of doing the same walk five years earlier, that new gig wonder still there, made you smirk to yourself. There had been charm in not knowing what would come of it, but another kind took its place from seeing it brought to fruition. This job wasn’t hard by many means, but it wasn’t as simple as you had thought back then either.

You were also still living at home when the courier work fell into your lap, but not now. You had a roommate now, who even after a few months of adjusting to the welcome still didn’t seem to know what to do with you being around some days. It wasn’t like you tried to serve as a nuisance, or at least the guy, Dan, didn’t say that you did.

You had met Daniel Cain through work, of course; being assigned as a courier for Miskatonic was a strike of luck – and whether it was good or bad was up to the beholder. After you had been stuck with him in the morgue trying to find a stack of papers that had been misdelivered, he was kind enough to help you dig them up, and then walk you to where they actually needed to be. It was somewhere in that little adventure where he mentioned he was looking for a roommate, dismissive of his own offer to hide genuine hope in his eyes.

You had pushed it off and admitted you would see how things worked out on your end before telling him yes. Neither of you had been kidding anyone, though. A week later you were on his porch and asking if there was still room for one more. He had been nothing but open arms, but it was maybe two days later that you realized he wasn’t going to be your only companion in his house.

The fact it had taken two days was a story within itself.

On the kitchen counter, your notebook had found a friend.

Entering quietly, your jacket was not even out of your arm yet before you approached the two books sitting close together, feeling as though you were intruding on a quiet conversation between them. One you recognized as your own, hand settling on it as you glanced at the other one. It was much worse for wear, and there was a dried stain on one corner and making the paper strangely fold with water damage. Who’s been taking care of you?

One ear was still on the house, only catching a sink shut off from down the hall in the back of your mind besides the resounding quiet. You took hold of the cover. Opening slowly, once again like it was something forbidden, you held your breath to glance inside. There was poor handwriting on one half of the page, and then a strange body-esque shape on the other. You guessed it could be close to a diagram you’d sometimes see in Dan’s medical books.

In your most pretentious of hearts, you even mused you could’ve drawn that better yourself. Drawing wasn’t your main hobby, but you almost had to laugh at how poorly whatever this was trying to portray had come together.

“Hey, you’re home a little early.” Dan greeted as he swung in around the doorway, already looking for the thousand little things he needed before leaving yet still giving a halfhearted smile your way. You had let go of the cover, smiling back as you wandered over to a stool by the counter. You perked up, idly turning the page in your own book while facing your back on the other one. “Hey yourself. Working the evening shift?” You replied.

“Yeah. It’s nothing I’m not already used to. I worked late almost every night back when I was still a student.” Dan was already easing up from his focused stride, standing beside you with his eyes going everywhere at once. When he seemed to catch your smirk, though, it sat a little more still. You nodded and mentioned, “Well, I don’t have plans tonight. Need anything done around here?”

“No, no… You’re perfectly fine just relaxing, [Y/N]. You probably ran halfway across town today.” Dan cleared his throat, hand suddenly settling on a shoulder and making you glance at it. “Look,” His voice fell lower, a quiet graze over you as he asked, “Will you...be alright here tonight? By yourself?”

You stifled a laugh, the smirk once again springing on your face. Dan didn’t mirror it, and insisted, “[Y/N], I’m serious.” You laughed again, this time letting yourself chuckle almost a little too loudly. “Are you asking me if I can handle being home alone? Of course I can.” You hummed, already looking back to your book in your lap.

“I’m asking if you’re going to be okay with what’s going on downstairs.” Dan clarified, and this time you looked back up with your smile gone. The frown was enough to finally dawn on you that he was being serious. You were silent at first, because up until that moment you had once again forgotten that there even was someone else downstairs.

Since moving in a few months prior, Dan’s other roommate had barely even looked at you. Not that you took it personally, of course, especially with assurances that it was “just how he was”. Like the rest of the household, he was a busy man. He had been doing some independent research up until he met Dan, and even then, you weren’t at all sure what he was spending all his time with downstairs. Following the reclusive nature, you simply never asked. You barely even bothered the guy if you could help it. In fact, there wasn’t a lot of room for him to complain when you were the one that was often woken up to loud clanging below the floorboards, or in the middle of laughing about something with your other roommate and seeing him in the hallway. The way he looked at you was enough to make any joy hole up back inside of you, unsure if you should even be breathing too loudly around him.

Despite all of that, you stomped down the uncertainty and nodded, even offering a small smile. “Yeah, it’s fine. I know the drill after four months of being your damn roommate.” You then tapped your foot on the floor, gesturing downwards with a tilt of your head as you murmured, “Does he need anything done around here? I figured I’d ask you since he doesn’t like to talk to me.”

Dan laughed, but then brushed something off your shoulder as he murmured, “He doesn’t hate you. I told you, it’s just how he is. I’m trying to talk to him about it.” He shrugged, lowering his voice, “I wasn’t even sure the guy liked me until a couple weeks of living with him, you know.” You nodded, quiet as you looked back down at your sketchbook. You had cracked it open, and a stray drawing of an eye stared back.

Dan pursed his lips, looking at how you gazed down as you huffed, “Guess that’s just how it is, huh? I don’t bother him. He doesn’t bother me.” You smirked, and after a second moment of thought, your eyes rose to catch Dan again. He was the one looking at the floor now, hands settled on his hips as he seemed lost in a thought. You then eased, “Hey, I’m not asking for anything – from either of you. We’re roommates, and that doesn’t mean we have to be best friends or anything. I don’t need to know his business, and if you aren’t worried then what goes on is obviously nothing to lose sleep over.”

You felt the joke in your chest, grinning now. “What,” Your voice fell to a low, goofy tone as you leaned in, making him glance at you as you prodded, “You guys got a body down there or something, Cain?”

Usually, that voice got a laugh out of him. When he didn’t seem to even smile, his jaw grinding instead, you sat back and found a normal tone. You even twinged as you dared to ask, “...What does he do downstairs, anyways?”

Dan’s eyes shot to the clock. “Crap, I got to go.” He gave you an awkward nod and uttered, “Hey, don’t wait up for me, okay? I won’t be home until four, it’s not good for you to be all sleep deprived.” You held your breath, the question unanswered but your train of thought deciding to release it as you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Daniel.” You muttered in the same voice, and this time he chuckled as he strode out of the kitchen. It almost felt like you two were married, the only thing missing from the whole exchange being an intimate kiss on the cheek. That thought was squandered as soon as it fell over your mind, your eyes averting the room like someone had heard it and your heart clenching in its place. You two only nodded to one another as he rushed out.

The front door shut, and you felt your hand start to pick at the edges of the sketchbook’s pages. You weren’t sure if you liked the idea of being Dan’s [girlfriend/boyfriend/partner]. It was something that seemed to be held in the offer of moving in with him, though not leaving a vague possibility unless initiated. Anyone who moved in with each other would have to experience some sort of domestic friendship, you figured, but there was something about how yours formed that started to sit more like a rock at the bottom of the ocean rather than algae on the pond surface whenever you went to bed alone every night.

You were terrified of what that feeling could possibly mean. It didn’t bother you when Dan brought home women, dated them for a week or two, but then inevitably found himself at a roadblock that just sort of quietly ushered itself out. If anything, you were the least of the problem when it came to being a third wheel. It was more about the man downstairs, as in his snide remarks you sometimes caught in the hallway while brushing your teeth or passing by on your way to avoid him. He was the one who seemed to like getting in Dan’s way when it came to others, including you. Christ, it was like you couldn’t think of one without thinking of the other at that point.

When you looked down, you realized your hands had wandered. You recoiled when you could see you weren’t touching your own book’s pages again.

With no one else around but you, you had the nerve to open the damn thing enough to start tracing out what you thought was trying to be depicted. It was a plain body, arrows pointing to certain veins traced out along the arms with…something written down. “Fucking doctor’s handwriting,” You muttered to yourself, squinting at a simple three words of unintelligible penmanship.

A resounding bang from under your feet, crawling up through the door that lead down and resting outside of the kitchen, took you away from your work. You pressed your hand down on it, leaving the pages wide open as you jolted to your feet and dared to peek out the open doorway. It lead your gaze down another corridor of the house, the one that went towards the basement.

You didn’t know what kind of impulse dragged you over to door, but still you tapped against the frame in a brisk knock and wondered if he even could hear all the way down there. You hadn’t ever been past this part since moving in, and it was more because the door was always either locked or Dan would tell you a myriad of reasons why there was nothing down there (besides your third roommate). His name had spaced your mind until this moment where you were quickly realizing that you weren’t getting an answer.

“Herbert,” You called, “I just wanted to say if you need anything done around here tonight that I can do it. I know you’re busy, but I wanted to throw it out.”

Resounding silence.

You peeled yourself off the wall and sighed loudly, rolling your neck. “Alright, nice chatting with you, have a good night!” You called through the wood one last time and walked away before you let something snarky find its footing. You stalked into the dark of the house, stretching a knot in your shoulders out and once again reminding yourself that taking it personally would only start a fight.

Dan doesn’t need that, the reminder was enough to get you to finally wipe the frown off your face, and head to bed before you could let it stir up anything else that would be hard to sleep on.

#herbert west x reader x daniel cain #herbert west x reader #herbert west x y/n #daniel cain x reader #daniel cain x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #poly!danbert x reader #✏️ #💉 #*holds up re-animator brainrot* look at it. #your own prometheus

[angelictrl]

hihi wifey, im feeling kinda anxious/sad in general so can i request just have satan + asmo being jealous tysm ❤️❤️❤️

JEALOUS SATAN & ASMO.

a/n ;; sorry that this is late and i apologize if this is sucky ! head’s been empty but i’m trying desperately not to get writer’s block </3 also, asmodeus’ part got longer than expected, oops.

cw ;; threats, insecurities, hurt-ish/comfort. satan is a moody baby and asmodeus appreciation/supremacy. not proof-read. that’s all, really, besides some cranky demons. 

# satan. ``

@ others making him jealous . . .

whoever has the audacity to go and make the literal avatar of wrath jealous definitely has a death wish. whether or not some random demon who was getting too touchy, flirting, or taking up your time and attention with or without knowing that you were his partner, he’d still get pissed. 

however, he has two reactions: either, 1. he storms up to them and puts them in their place/threatens them before pulling you away if he hasn’t destroyed something, or 2. he’s just on the verge ... sitting there, peeking over a book with a menacing aura as he glares at everyone like a cat, ready to claw someone in the corner. 

satan trusts you, so if he goes with the latter, he’ll be silently raging internally while he waits for you to tell them you have a boyfriend and decline their advances. if they continue to push you when you already told them no, that’s when blondie here will snap and go with reaction 1.

“oi, just what do you think you’re doing ? my s/o already said no, you pitiful creature(s). quit gawking at them before i forcefully make you. understand?”

@ brothers making him jealous . . .

on the other hand, if it’s one of his brothers hogging all of your attention, he gets more petty than anything, really. the threats are still there, though. and especially if it’s lucifer who’s stealing you away ... yikes, everyone in HoL will know his change in mood as he’s been on lucifer’s ass more than usual with his pranks and curses.

satan will be visibly annoyed and give each and every one of you the cold shoulder by locking himself in his room more often than not (leviathan the hermit, who ?) to get lost in his books until he gets reassurance and affection from you.

he’s not really insecure, but more lost and confused than anything. he’s the brother that’s pretty much the odd one out, though none of them treat him differently, and he’s always had an issue with feeling enmeshed to lucifer. 

even when he knows he’s his own person, he was created from a quite literal ungodly amount of rage and wrath. it’s all he’s known before you came along into his life. so surely ... you’ll excuse him for looking like a kicked puppy as he tries to sort through these new feelings, right ? 

right, because you’re already there holding his hand in reassurance. that same rough hand that’s tortured and destroyed so many things is being held by someone so fragile ... someone who’s looked death in the eye ... someone who makes him feel like he’s something more than just a monster. 

you truly were just like that main character in one of his books ... you were the beauty to his beast. or, properly phrased, you brought out the beauty in his beast. 

# asmodeus. ``

@ others making him jealous . . .

‘oh, honey, you look like rumpelstiltskin, yet you still think you can compare to me ?‘ pretty much his thought process right there.

no but really, asmo may be sweet and the most gentle out of the brothers right next to beel, but he’s still an avatar of a sin. there’s no doubt that the lot of demons there in the devildom would be intimidated by asmodeus in the competition for your love - and honestly, who could blame them ?

most of them who don’t live under a rock would already know that you two are in a relationship with how much asmo posts about you, so it would take some serious devotion from any demon who dares to have the gall to compete with him - whether or not they view you as a fling - and asmodeus will not hesitate to get petty. 

you’re going to need to reassure your demon boyfriend here that you only have eyes for him before he exposes the second half of deep, dark secrets this other person/people have on the internet ^^;;

@ brothers making him jealous . . .

he’d still think of himself as somewhat superior and cuter, but he’d tone things down. he wouldn’t ruin his brothers’ lives like how he would be willing to do so with strangers.

regardless of whether or not it’s a stranger, friend, or brother of his, in the end, asmo will be extra touchy and will spoil you with more spa dates and trips to majolish than usual. this is mostly because he doesn’t want you to notice his recent gloomy change in mood as he’s stuck on the thought of ‘what if’ had you really left him for someone else. 

those intrusive thoughts just keep on swarming through his head ... so what better than to try to get back into routine with daily life ? he just hopes you haven’t taken notice, but unfortunately for him, you have. 

you’ve noticed his slightly disheveled hair and outfit along with the mountain of clothes and makeup piling up in his room and his vanity. plus, let’s not begin to even mention the excessive amount of concealer he’s been wasting to try and hide his eyebags.

things finally begin to progress in the communication area when you sit him down and confront him one night while everyone’s asleep. though, getting him to work through the root of his charismatic-party-animal mask proves to be quite difficult.

“dear, it’s adorable how you care so much for me, but you’re really going to get wrinkles this way. here, come a little closer and let me do your skincare first, then we’ll chat ... c’mon ~ i said closer, hon. i don’t bite ... well, unless you want me to ~”

“asmo, baby ...” you cut him off for the nth time that night as he tried to change the subject again, watching the demon with champagne-colored hair who flung himself at you again glance at you with his cheeky smile faltering for a split second before he quickly regained his composure, but it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t catch onto. “please, stop changing the topic. i’ve come to talk to you ... the real you. no spontaneous activities, no makeovers, just you.”

asmodeus’ face paled ever so slightly and his eye twitched as he thought of playing dumb, but you were just so sincere. he couldn’t even manage out a ‘whatever do you mean ?’ before laughing in disbelief while turning the other way. “this - this is the real ..... the real ... me ... i have no clue what you’re talking about ...” he choked out while tears glossed over his eyes, his back turned to you. 

in his theatrics and dramatic antics, he’d fake cry occasionally, but to truly feel such strong, negative emotions especially towards himself as he cried ... it was ugly. he was ugly. and now, surely if you saw his face, you’d leave him too. for he was such a shallow, ugly, good-for-nothing demon. no matter how much he polished his attitude to be sassy and charismatic or tried on the latest trending outfits and makeup, there was always this feeling of emptiness left in him. not like the black hole everyone called beel’s stomach, but this void left in his heart, this hurting in his chest that wouldn’t go away when the afterglow of each party and hookup arrived, this longing for warmth - not even just physically - for someone to hold him like he did for his brothers on their lonesome nights when they remembered the past.

the avatar of lust was knocked out of his thoughts by a pained noise, confusion written on his face before he realized it was himself. he was sobbing into your chest as you held him close, your fingers delicately carding through his tousled hair. ugly. he thought each sorrowful noise that came out of him was ugly, and he couldn’t help but chant sorry’s your way through tears. he didn’t know when you had came closer once more to hold him, but he buried his face into your shirt and finally let loose the flood of his emotions clinging desperately to you.

“p-please ... don’t go away too, s/o. you’re the true jewel of the devildom, my dear. you’re so much more beautiful than i’ll ever be ... and i ... i don’t mean that just by l-looks ... please ... i love you so much ...”

obey me masterlist.

#(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ ritsuki’s requests. #this was so shitty im so sorry #obey me! satan #om satan #omswd satan #obey me satan #satan x mc #satan x reader #obey me! asmodeus #om asmodeus #omswd asmo #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x mc #asmo x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x y/n #obey me x s/o #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me angst #obey me comfort #obey me drabble #obey me shall we date #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me fanfic