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obae-me · 7 months

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A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Full Revised Masterpost

No one asked for it, but I wanted it, so here it is! I was going through some of my old stuff, particularly this series because it was a personal favorite of mine. And boy oh boy did I feel like it was outdated. Partially because of nightbringer, but also because my writing style has changed a bit over the last few years. So, I figured I'd go through it all, edit a few things, take out a few bits I didn't agree with character wise, and add some details here and there to make it all flow a little better! Lucifer's chapter especially got a chunky overhaul (yeesh that one made me cringe). The changes aren't enormous, but just enough to make a difference I think. And now I get to put them all in one nice little post! I'll still be keeping my older versions on my masterlist. It'll be kinda neat to have both there for comparison's sake. Plus I added a little bonus scene at the end that's... a teaser of things I have planned. See if you can guess what it is. Oh, and if you're new here, hi! Enjoy a silly fic I made!

Anyways, enjoy!

Warnings: Sickness, fainting, blood mention, gagging, fighting, medication use, brief taking of double doses. General sickfic things.

It spread as a rumor first. The halls of RAD were always abuzz with the latest news; the newest trend, an upcoming event, what Diavolo was having for lunch. However, lately the only thing everyone seemed to be talking about was a new airborne virus. Students clustered less frequently in the halls, sharing hushed whispers on who had been most recently afflicted. You had been assured that humans should be immune to this particular strain but to still err on the side of caution. Take the proper steps to keep yourself in good health. Waves of sickness like this always came closer to the wintertime, much like the human realm. And while the air in the Devildom carried a general sense of anxiety, no one in the House of Lamentation seemed worried in the least.

“We’re technically fallen angels, not demons.”

“Psh, you think a little virus is enough to affect us? No chance!”

“There’s no way any of us will get sick. Don’t worry.”

Pride was rampant throughout the House. So…perhaps it was only fitting that Lucifer was the first in the household to catch it.

He had shown symptoms a few days before, beginning with not having the energy to scold Mammon. Then it snowballed from there. Almost losing his balance while going up the stairs, putting too much sweetener in his coffee, failing to focus over relatively mindless things, it concerned you. Everyone else didn’t seem to notice…or perhaps they were pretending not to, taking advantage of Lucifer’s odd state and doing whatever their sinful little hearts desired. No one thought it could be that serious, otherwise they might’ve done something about it. Kept a closer eye on him… But this was Lucifer after all. He got like this sometimes, they all claimed. He was simply working himself too hard again. But…even so…you knew something was off. This was more than just your typical burnout.

Did you dare risk damaging his pride to ask? You weighed the outcomes in your mind, deciding in the end to go check on what was wrong that night. Hoping to appeal to him, you had even made some of his favorite tea. You’d even prepared a second cup for you, secretly wanting to maybe share a moment of time together… Stepping slowly to ensure you didn’t spill a single drop, you went straight to his bedroom, knocking on his door exactly twice in even beats. No answer. His study then, perhaps. So you headed there, passing the shelves of dusty tomes to see that the bookshelf which served as his secret entrance was wide open.

“Lucifer?” you called, holding yourself back on worried feet. Waltzing in unannounced did not always grant you the warmest of receptions. He preferred to have some sort of warning. Although, this time there was no response to your announcement. “Lucifer?” you asked again, your voice slightly louder. Still nothing. You couldn’t hear any music… and he wasn’t often known to wear headphones. Just a peek couldn’t hurt, could it? Just to make sure he wasn’t inside. You stepped forward and poked your head through the doorway.

At first glance, the office appeared empty, his overly grandiose chair devoid of its demon. However, after a better look, you noticed that he was inside, just not how you expected him to be. The Prideful Lucifer was crumpled on the ground, surrounded by what should’ve been a stack of papers, but now was just a scattered mess on the floor.

The heart in your chest nearly stopped, your mind jumping to various grisly conclusions. Somehow you managed to put the teacups aside without dropping them like one might do in a dramatic soap opera episode. The musical sting was audible in your mind. You rushed to him, moving him with a strained grunt so he was flat on his back. You shouted his name in an attempt to wake him, checking for wounds. “Lucifer!” He didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Burning crimson cheeks flushed brightly on skin as white as a sheet. You checked his breathing. Constant, luckily, but shaky. There was a faint tremble throughout his body. Your hand drifted down to his cheek as you caressed his face. To say he looked terrible was an understatement.

You fumbled for your D.D.D. desperately hoping that someone would pick up quickly. But who to call? Your mind ran through everyone you knew. Mammon? Barbatos? Diavolo? Perhaps Beel was your best bet. He was dependable. You didn’t want to risk anyone else taking advantage of him like this. Besides there was no way you could drag Lucifer up to bed alone, and Beel was easily as strong as three of you.

You dialed Gluttony, doing your best to not bite your knuckles in worry. Each echoing ring felt far too long… Pick up… Pick up! “Oh, MC, you called at a good time.” The breath that came out of you was almost a gasp. “I’m getting ready to order food since the kitchen is empty. What do you want? I’ll get it for you?” Beel sounded like he was still in the middle of chewing, which probably meant he just now emptied out the kitchen. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that though.

“Beel- Beel! I… I came into the office and… Please come down to Lucifer’s study, I- I need your help! Lucifer- Lucifer he’s…not well.” Your voice shook, doing your best to form comprehensive words aside from the panic. You’d hid the fact that he collapsed to save some of his pride. Even though it would be fairly obvious once Beel got here…

Beelzebub’s tone went more serious. He swallowed whatever food he had left before speaking again. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

Now that Beel was coming to help, you felt a bit more relaxed, but not by much. You put your D.D.D. back into your pocket and knelt beside Lucifer’s body. His head was lifted up with your shaking hands, letting him use your lap as a pillow. You brushed away the hair that was now starting to stick to his skin. You’d never seen him like this before, and you were certain that Lucifer would rather die than be discovered like this. Nevertheless you couldn’t help but pet his head.

It wasn’t too long before Beel came in, messy crumbs all over his shirt as he left in a haste. Once he saw the state Lucifer was in, he scanned back over his shoulder. “Mammon is busy arguing with Levi, Belphie is taking a nap, Asmo’s out, and I’m hoping Satan is in his room. Let’s get Lucifer to bed quickly.” He came over and quickly lifted his elder brother up off the floor. It didn’t matter how long you had been around him, any time Beel was able to show of just how strong he was, it left you in awe. “Why don’t you go ahead of us and meet me in his room?” Beel asked. For a second, you blinked in a stupor before you quickly nodded, bolting as fast as your feet would take you up the stairs towards the second floor to his grand master bedroom.

Careful of potential eyes, you looked around for anyone before opening the door. As Beel said, you could hear Mammon and Levi going at it, but they were a few rooms away. You invited yourself inside, leaving the entrance open just a crack so Beel could easily come right in. Now to prep Lucifer’s bed. It was extremely large, entirely unnecessary for one person, but a perfect fit for the Demon of Pride. You took one corner of the silky sheets and folded them aside. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After what seemed like eternity- but was realistically only a few minutes- both brothers entered the room. You got up and quietly shut the door behind them while Beel placed Lucifer on the bed.

“What do we do now?” you asked. “Should we call a doctor?”

Beel’s mouth tightened. It was obvious he was worried, but he shook his head. “We… can’t. We leave him alone and he’ll probably call someone when he wakes up.”

You stood there, jaw open, not able to fully process the words. “’We can’t?’ W-What do you mean, ‘we can’t’?”

“It’s sort of an unspoken rule… If Lucifer ever gets sick we have to leave him alone. Even just the fact that we brought him up here might get us in trouble.” Beel looked a bit downtrodden.

You stammered over your words. “I- but- we can’t- That’s the most ridiculous and hypocritical rule I’ve ever heard! If it were someone else, Lucifer would have everything covered as soon as possible!”

“It’s mostly to keep Satan and Belphie away… and to make sure Diavolo doesn’t find out. He tends to be a worrier.” Beel explained. He shrugged, glancing over at his brother for a moment as he thought. “I’ll go keep watch over this room. Maybe if you take care of him, he won’t be as upset. Please…take care of him MC.” With that he left, however you could still hear him outside the door, already munching on something as he stress ate.

You nervously paced. Taking care of him sounded easy in theory, but in actuality you had no idea how to take care of a demon. Would it be the same as a human? Probably not but that was all you knew how to do, so it had to be better than nothing, right? So you left the room for just a moment to grab a few things. A glass of water so he could stay hydrated and a bowl of cold water with a soft rag to bring down his temperature.

When you returned to the room, you froze. Lucifer was sitting up slightly in bed, looking disoriented. A relived sigh released all the built up tension in your lungs. “Oh, thank Diavolo… Lucifer, are you okay?” His head swung around at you, eyes a bit wide. He didn’t notice you had entered. “MC… what’re you doing in here? I--” He cut himself off in shock as you placed the cup of water in his hands and the bowl on his nightstand. You got the rag damp, wringing out the excess.

“Do you not remember?” you asked him, raising a hand to put the rag against his face. Embarrassed and clearly overwhelmed, he swatted your touch away and forcefully put the glass back in your hands.

“Enough of this fussing! There’s no need for it.” He scowled, but his dry lips were a bit poutier than he intended. “I don’t know what’s gotten you to believe you needed to come in my room, but I don’t remember inviting you. It’s about time you took your leave.” His tone was stern but his words didn’t have the usual sharp impact they normally did when he was upset. They just sounded tired. Strained. You frowned. You couldn’t tell if he was unaware he collapsed or just glancing over the fact he did. Either way he was clearly lying about being alright. You decided not to bring up the study situation for his pride’s sake, but even with your two fully ordinary human eyes you could tell that he needed to be looked after.

You’d defied him before and hadn’t died yet. Sure there had been close calls, but… what was going against him one more time going to do? “I’m not leaving," you told him.

Lucifer disapproved. His eyes went narrow and air around him grew even hotter. A few more red splotches showed up on his face… “Would you like to say that again? I hope for your sake I misheard you.”

“I’m not leaving you right now, Lucifer.” You stood your ground. Sometimes stubbornness needed to be met with more stubbornness. Lucifer clenched his jaw and stood up. Too quickly. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, clutching tightly the only thing keeping him from falling over. You. He had his face buried in your shirt, his breathing now ragged. Seeing him like this was torture… although there was something about seeing Pride be humbled that gave him further access to your heart. He wasn’t some untouchable distant concept. He was a person who got sick sometimes, just like you. Once more, you ran your hand through his hair, tender fingers rubbing at the pressure points on his scalp. Even him just being this close made you hot. He was a burning furnace. “You’re not well, Lucifer… And I know you won’t ever admit it so you don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to ask, I’ll do the begging, just please let me take care of you. You take care of everyone else, so when you can’t even take care of yourself let me take care of you. Please.”

He didn’t respond, just kept his face hidden. For a second, he motioned as if he was going to push you away… but he pulled you closer, his grip on your clothes getting tighter. Acceptance… You bent down to grab one of his arms to help him get to his feet. His throat cleared as he sat on the edge of his bed. It was clear he had a lot to say, but he kept everything to himself. Lucifer’s eyes wandered, looking at everything in his room except for you. Slowly, you reached towards his neck, taking the stuffy tie off of him. Kneeling down, you removed his dress shoes, tucking them aside. He loosened a few of his own buttons, already looking a little better without so many unnecessary layers. Finally, you took both his hands in your own, feeling the curves of his palms before stripping his hands of their gloves. When he got back inside his bed he turned away from you. Sulking and feeling thoroughly defeated probably. Flustered, if you could allow yourself to think so. You tried hard not to smile. He would absolutely kill you if he knew you thought he was being cute.

With a hand on his shoulder, you urged him to lie on his back. Once he begrudgingly did, you pulled the blankets up to his neck and had the rag in hand again. You ran the cool fabric across his cheeks before folding it up and settling it across his forehead. Then you went over to one of his record players, scouring through his large collection until you found the record that he told you was a favorite of his. And not one of his cursed ones. You placed it on the player, making sure the music was loud enough to be heard but not enough to keep him up. It started with a soft piece, something calm and hauntingly beautiful. Hopefully it would help him relax.

Lucifer already had his eyes closed again, the red in his cheeks gone down from cherry to coral- in other words, just a touch. However, it was enough to make you feel less antsy at his condition. You had been so close to contacting Diavolo, but now it seemed as if you didn’t need to. Since you had just had your hands in the water, they were cool to the touch, so you gently brushed them against his cheek again. This time he moved his head to melt into you. A soothed hum left his throat. He grabbed your sleeve, now looking up at you with an expression entirely different than just a few minutes before. “Please…don’t leave tonight.” His voice was soft and hush, almost as if he didn’t want to hear his own words. You rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. A shiver ran through his body and it was hard to tell if it was from your touch or from the fever.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Sleep now.” He shut his eyes and with a large shuddering sigh, he seemed to drift back to sleep. You took the rag, it already warm, and you touched your forehead to his. “Sweet dreams.” You whispered.

Lucifer recovered fairly quickly. What had left lesser demons bedridden for a week or so only had the eldest brother recovering for a handful of days. Now, he had done his best to keep himself isolated, but once his siblings eventually learned how bad off he had been- despite your best efforts to keep it a secret- they all came in on their own time to check on him. At the end of the day, even if they often had each other by the throat, they cared for each other deeply. You had to wonder if the extra unexpected TLC was part of what got Lucifer back up on his feet so rapidly.

Mammon was in and out of Luci’s room pretty frequently. Despite yours and Pride’s warnings, he was determined to do his duty as second in line and take care of his sibling. So, no one was all too surprised when Greed fell ill not even a single day after Lucifer was symptomless. But, what did catch everyone off guard was that Mammon was not the only one who got suddenly sick. Out of every other brother, Satan was also next to fall ill to the Devil’s Cold. Lucifer commented proudly that Wrath had been excellent in his service, bringing him specially crafted potions to lesson pain and bringing him up special meals to restore his vigor. All was revealed much to Satan’s dismay. Apparently it was meant to be a secret. He tried to twist it into some sort of reverse psychology prank, but everyone knew Satan was acting out of worry. So, a proper deed was returned in kind, Lucifer looking after the both of them to the best of his abilities. Such a doting older sibling through and through. Although, despite the rare opportunity to have Lucifer wait on them hand-and-foot, Mammon and Satan were both acting strangely difficult. Satan’s denial of Lucifer’s fussing made more sense, strained relationship and all, but Mammon’s sudden cold stubbornness was rather uncharacteristic. So, while the eldest was busy finishing the two extra workloads of Student Council business, he asked that you check up on the second-eldest.

You eagerly agreed. For not only was Mammon being reserved towards his siblings, but also towards you… It was a sensation you weren’t used to, him being so close to you and all. This would be a good excuse to see him. Approaching his room, you knocked on his door, pressing your ear against the expensive looking wood only to hear a groan from inside. It wasn’t what you would define as a dismissive groan, so you let yourself in. Overhead completely off, extra light from his displays all dimmed, you were left stumbling around in darkness for the light switch. Once you flicked it on, the pained moan you heard before returned, albeit louder this time. Seemed he was sensitive to light at the moment. You bit your bottom lip and flicked his light back off, opting to use the glow from the screen of your D.D.D. instead.

The faint light gave you enough vision to spot giant lump under the covers of his bed. Not a single part of Mammon’s body was exposed. He was all bundled in a ball. You came over, a nice hot drink in your hands in a shiny golden-colored mug. Lucifer had told you that the concoction was good for demons, and among that one of Mammon’s favorites. To you, it just smelled like cinnamon and milk.

You gently pressed your hand over the bed lump, shaking it slightly as you announced your presence with a soft voice. “Mammon, it’s me… Lucifer sent me. I have something for you.”

The blob of blankets shifted, little chirps of discomfort making their way to your ears. He scuttled away from you at first, the blanket pulled tighter around him. It required several minutes of coaxing for him to come out. The covers fell away as he finally sat up in bed, hair sticking up every which way. His black tank-top was sticking tight to his torso, his face devoid of the normal vibrancy it usually held. Not only that, but it seemed the exhaustion had him stuck halfway between his demon and human form. His body marks were present across his body, but they were very translucent. His horns were absent from his head, but you could see his wings tucked against his back. His nails were the sharpness of talons. Normally, his eyes shined at you, little flecks of gold floating in the seas of blue. Now his color was dulled. But at the sight of you, a bit of him perked up. You were a much needed presence. Even if he talked up a big game over text about ‘not needing to see you’, at the end of the day, having you at his side was what he wanted most of all. You could read from his expression that he regretted not having you come in sooner.

You held out the drink for him, and he reached for it with shaking hands. Worried he’d spill it, you cupped your own hands around his, giving him the added support as he brought the rim of the mug to his lips, taking mini sips while giving himself breaks to breathe in-between. You frowned… He was barely able to hold and consume his own drink. When he was done drinking it, you put the half-empty mug aside on his nightstand.

“Th-ank you, huma-hu… MC,” he croaked, his eyelids fluttered and he fell back onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow. He let his hand dangle over the side of his bed, his fingers almost grazing the floor. Your heart ached seeing him in this position… but you secretly had to admit, he was being awfully cute. His tsundere nature was gone, you only wished he didn’t need to be this far gone to be sweet with you. You ran a hand through his crazed hair. A little greasy. He would need to wash up. You’d let Lucifer handle that one. Mammon turned his head slightly, just enough to see you with one eye cracked open. You saw it glisten with tears for a split second before he turned back into his pillow. Lucifer was probably caring in his own demanding way, but you wanted to bet he’d never been treated like this before.

You shook your head a bit at that thought and went about rummaging though his clothes to find a cleaner outfit for him to wear. Lucifer could help him get changed out of those sweaty things later. You folded up a suitable replacement and placed it on his couch, pushing aside empty shopping bags. Then you sat beside Mammon on the mattress, reaching for the rag Lucifer had brought to him earlier. Mammon must’ve been tossing and turning for a while, seeing as it was at the end of his pillow case, threatening to fall to the floor. You dipped it in the bowl of cool water that was left on the nightstand, feeling the feverish warmth dissolve out of it.

“Mammon…Mammon, turn your head,” you asked. He raised up his dangling arm to reach for the covers…and pulled the fabric over his body with a huff. You had been wrong, apparently. There was still a twinge of tsundere left in him. It was comforting, at least, knowing that he still was the embarrassed little demon with that playful attitude you adored. You covered up a small smile with your hand. “Mammon, please. Pretty please? Pretty please with Grimm on top?” You pleaded with him, leaning on him with your own body till he squirmed under your pressure.

“Oi…” he croaked. “Fine…” He shuffled around under his sheets before showing just the upper part of his head, his gaze plastered on anything other than your face. You tried hard not to chuckle, you really did. He was being so stubborn about this. You placed the cool rag on his forehead and heard him sigh. You used a finger to pull down his blankets so you could see his features. You cupped his chin to move his head and guide his gaze towards yours. You stroked his cheek and watched a twinge of color return to his cheeks as he blushed.

“Do you need anything else, Mammon?” You asked him gently. It was a bold move to ask Greed what he wanted. You could only begin to imagine what he’d ask for. Cold cash? A new pair of shoes? A car? At the moment though, you didn’t care what he asked, you’d get it for him if it was within your power…and your budget.

To your surprise, he frowned at the thought of being pampered, apparently. He licked his cracked lips and shook his head. “N-Nah…you can…go.” Had hell frozen over? Was this why Lucifer had asked you to check on him? Was he so miserable right now, he couldn’t even turn to his sin? Or was there something more to it?

“Mammon… you’re not being greedy by letting me help you. I can grab you whatever you think you need. Hell, I’d go fishing in Lucifer’s wallet if I thought it would make you feel better.”

The second-born tried to laugh a little but just ended up coughing. After he wrestled control over his own lungs, he blinked a little, thinking. “Can I…have some water, maybe?” He talked as if this was a new sensation, as if he had never coveted anything in his life.

“Of course. Anything else?” If you managed to poke and prod a little more of his sin to come out, you’d feel a little better.

“I…don’t know…” Poor Mammon seemed pretty out of it, like he was dangerously close to falling asleep, but being forced awake by the sheer discomfort in his body. If you could help him out, he might stop tossing and turning.

“Okay,” you nodded, a little idea illuminating in the back of your mind. If he couldn’t be greedy, you’d be greedy for him. “I’ll be right back with a few things, okay?” His fingers snagged onto the end of your sleeve, upset at the thought of letting you go, but his hand dropped back to the bed. With an assuring squeeze to his shoulder, you left his room.

A quick text was sent to the other residents of the House, requiring a quick meeting in the common-room. You tried hard not to pace as you waited for each brother to trickle in, a curious look on all their faces. Lucifer showed up last, his arms folded but appearing more concerned than frustrated. “I’m assuming this has to do with Mammon,” the eldest chimed in before anything was said.

“Exactly.” Turning your head, you gave each brother a determined look before setting your plan in action. “We’re all putting together a Get-Well-Basket for Mammon!”

A sleepy voice raised a little. “Huh?… A Get-Well-Basket?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you know, like a little assortment of gifts to show someone you care. It doesn’t have to be much, but just grab things you think would make him feel better! Oh, and he likes words of affirmation, so you all have to write a nice note!” A few of them tried to groan, but you were hearing none of it. “Go on! Right now! The master of your pact demands you! Don’t make me use ‘stay’.” The grumbles turned into quick agreements as the able-bodied set off in their quest to prepare their brother a basket. You hurried off to your own room, grabbing an open Akuzon box off your floor, a set of pens and a stack of sticky-notes off your desk. Then you looked around for something to give your precious demon of Greed. A lot of the things you owned… had been bought by him. You guessed you hadn’t realized till now how much he bought things for you. He deserved some nice things back… Not wanting to leave Mammon waiting too much longer, you snagged a nice pair of socks and a crystal you’d bought at a nearby magic shop. They got thrown in the box as you went back to the common-room.

A few other brothers were already there by the time you returned. Pleased with them, you set the box on a nearby coffee-table and handed each of them a pen and a note. “Now, your little letters. Make them nice or I’ll force you do them again!”

Dramatic huffs and puffs were made for the show of things, but they all seemed to really think about something nice to say. “How’s he doing, by the way?” Beel wondered aloud, speaking as he recently entered the room. Different eyes flickered down to the floor. Seems they all were wondering the same thing but none of them knew how to say it.

“Not the best,” you admitted, taking a few of the brother’s gifts and settling them in the reused box. “Which is why I thought this little pick-me-up would do him some good.” The rest of the demons fell silent, finishing their notes and attaching them to their gifts.

“Tell him- Tell him I said to feel better,” Levi sighed, giving you a little wave before returning to his bedroom.

“Yeah! Tell him that if he misses out going to that party with me next week, I won’t ever forgive him!” Asmo’s eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, kissing his note before putting it with his gift. The other siblings had similar sentiments, their well-wishes eventually compiled into one box. You found yourself smiling. This would help for sure. With the box and the water he originally asked for in hand, you returned to his room.

Mammon was sitting up again when you came back, his knees tucked against his chest, his finger tugging at a loose thread on the hem of his blanket. The soft light coming from a book lamp on his nightstand helped you keep from tripping on the floor. When you walked in through the door, you could’ve sworn you saw him smile. His eyes took turns observing you and the curious box in your arms. “Wha’s that?” he wondered, his words slurred slightly.

“It’s for you.” In a few steps, you were back at his side, giving him the water first for him to drink before settling the Get-Well-Basket at his feet. “From me and all your brothers. To make you feel better.”

It was clear he was confused for a good while. “For…me?” But then, that little glimmer in his eyes returned as he started to rummage through the box. He read a few of the notes, scoffing and tossing most of them aside. Whatever they all had wrote had clearly touched him and made him embarrassed. It seemed as if this idea of yours was a success.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

The demon of greed had to think deeply again before putting the box of gifts on the ground near his bed. He sighed a little, letting his legs leave his chest and go flat under the covers. Mammon hesitated before holding his hand out. “Y…Yo…” Even if he hadn’t fully said it, it was clear what he wanted in his time of need. You.

Something in your chest squeezed. You took Mammon’s hand and pulled him towards you, embracing him in a hug. His weary head rested on your shoulder, his shoulders relaxing, the tension leaving his body as your hand found it’s way between the joints of his wings. “You didn’t have to ask. I’m here whenever you need me. It’s not selfish to want someone by your side when you don’t feel well. And I want to be here...with you.” You could hear his little gasp as you held him, his breathing eventually becoming slower, calmer. With you at his side, he finally had enough peace of mind to relax. “Get some sleep if you can… everybody is waiting for you to get better…”

Mammon was now well on the mend thanks to your efforts. Sprung up like quite the spring chicken with you doting on him. He got his energy back faster than Lucifer did, but his symptoms lingered longer. It was rather amusing actually. Hard to steal stuff while your sniffles give away your location sneaking through the halls. Although, even with two counts of demon-caretaking under your belt and a self-proclaimed gift of healing, you had yet to check up on Wrath. Not to say you didn’t want to, you just… couldn’t. Banned, in fact. Deterred by Lucifer himself. But you just wanted to help. Lucifer was constantly busy, not to mention that his knowledgeable yet vengeful younger brother was expending all his strength that he should’ve used to recover busting the house to pieces in several fever-fueled rampages. It had seemed like the logical choice, and rarely did Lucifer prevent you from keeping an eye on his brothers. So why now of all times?

“He’s being…unreasonable,” was Lucifer’s answer. Out of all the possible reasons, this seemed among the most pathetic. A rearranged ‘because I said so’ with some vagueness sprinkled in. Disappointing.

“If I remember correctly, you were also pretty unreasonable,” you stated, trying to hold back a smirk steadily curling across your lips. He just scowled, glaring you up and down, trying to decide if he abhorred your backtalk or found it endearing. He leaned back in his cushy seat in his study, placing down his much too expensive pen by the pile of work he needed to finish by tonight. Another lecture on getting better rest tickled the back of your throat, tempting you. Recovered or not, he needed to give his body proper sleep lest he fall into another bout of sickness…

“And if I remember correctly, we agreed it would not be discussed again.” His sharp expression softened just a touch, a light shade of pink gracing his cheeks as he recalled how you took care of him in his weakened state. Before he thought about it too hard, he cleared his throat. Staggering hairs were brushed away from his forehead as he folded his arms in front of his chest. It heaved in a sigh. “His body and mind have been considerably weakened, therefore he has little to no control over his anger. He is Wrath, and I shudder to think what may befall you should you try to talk to him right now.” He peered deep into your eyes, taking note of your unwavering stance and stern composition. “And yet I suspect you’re going to go see him anyway.”

Bingo. Your hobby of thrusting yourself into dangerous situations formed another greying hair on Lucifer’s head. With a look equal parts exhaustion and worry, Pride lifted his hand and snapped his gloved fingers. Something in the house shifted. The magical lock placed on Satan’s room was broken for you. Although, Lucifer had to go over some rules, ensuring that, at the very least, Beel would be just outside should anything happen. You were to be whisked out of there at the first trace of danger.

The demon’s door was right in front of you now, and for a second you hesitated. You took a deep breath, clutching to your chest some medicine and a hardcover book from the human world containing old fables. Knowing him, he’d probably read it already, but it was worth a try. You knocked on the door, glancing a look at Beel before loudly stating your presence to the inhabitant of the room. Pushing the door open, you were pleased to find that so far you were unharmed, which was admittedly a great first step.

However, you quickly found yourself awash in a sea of books. A mess in Satan’s room was pretty normal. But this… was on a new scale. Honestly, you were almost impressed. Books and scrolls were haphazardly stacked, covering the floor, basically everywhere. You couldn’t even see his bed, it was hidden somewhere in this labyrinth of tomes. You held your breath, not even daring to breathe for fear everything around you would come tumbling down. The last thing you wanted was to be crushed to death. If the books didn’t kill you, you had a wary feeling Satan might for disturbing his ‘organized library’. So, you carefully weaved your way through slender passageways in the piles before you found, what you assumed, was Satan’s bed.

The reason you could only ‘assume’ is because at this juncture in time it hardly looked like a bed at all. Just a quick glance and it would’ve blended in with any other heap in this room. It was camouflaged with more books, torn pages, binders, pamphlets, a few cat figures, dioramas, etc.. Self reminder to check to see if there were any shows on demon-hoarders in the Devildom…

A jagged green-tipped tail dangled from beneath the bed-pile. It twitched and flicked, sending some novels skidding across the floor. You inhaled deep through your nose.

“Satan? It’s me.”

Satan’s tail whipped across the space between you and the bed. It struck one of the impossibly high stacks of books, sending it teetering and tottering threateningly before it crashed down. If you hadn’t taken a few steps back, you would’ve been one with that pile… You huffed to yourself. Rude… You wanted to help him and this was how he was treating you?

“Satan, please.” A book whizzed past your head and you winced, the sting of a little paper-cut blooming across your cheek. The air in the room was suddenly noticeably hot. You knew these were demons. You knew they were capable of destroying you in seconds, but that didn’t stop your stubborn nature from feeling absolutely offended. And so, as if you had a death wish, you scolded him. “Satan!” You strutted over, throwing the covers back and sending even more clutter to the floor, but at least you could look at him. But a part of you wished you couldn’t.

Teeth were bared as his mouth formed a menacing scowl. Hair was messy and untamed. His eyes were glowing an unnatural green, a lens behind his irises reflecting back at you like a creature in the shadows. A deep resonant rumble emanated from his chest. He looked absolutely feral, but it wasn’t till he pressed himself into the corner of his bed and the wall, knees close to his chest, that you put your fear beside yourself. Yes, at first glance you may have been entirely convinced he was going to tear your throat out, but then you ran your gaze over him a few times… His face was covered in patches of crimson. He was only wearing a green long-sleeved shirt and stripped boxers covered in kittens wearing top-hats. There was a sheet of paper skewered onto one of his horns, and he now was curled up protectively against the wall in a little ball. He was scared.

“Get out,” he demanded. It would’ve been threatening sounding if his lungs didn’t sound as if he swallowed a squeaky toy. He was wheezing, fingertips shaking, his tail protectively curled up against his legs, the tip of it quivering.

To be honest… you wouldn’t leave this room right now for all the Grimm in the Devildom. “I’ll leave after I’m done helping you out a bit,” you assured him, but he didn’t want that answer.

“Get out! Out, out, out!” He clutched another book in his hand and chucked it in your direction with a shout, this time missing you by a mile. You blinked. Was he…having a meltdown?

“Satan, throwing stuff at me isn’t going to make me leave any faster, so cooperate and I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.” You smiled softly at him. Wrath had no retort nor nearby ammo left, so he tucked his face into his knees, letting you get to work. It would take you hours to clean the room, but you did what you could for the moment, tidying up at least the chaos surrounding his bed. How he would’ve slept with that mess on him was beyond your understanding. Or maybe that was one of the reasons why he was being so cranky. Books aren’t exactly great nest material.

You shook off his blankets, puffed up his pillow, and then took a hesitant scan at the medicine you’d put on his nightstand. Lucifer had told you where to get it. Supposedly a powerful medication that tasted as bad as the one taking it felt. It was also administered as a liquid, because for all their power, demons hadn’t made capsules a widespread thing yet. You had no idea how you were going to get Satan to take it.

Maybe being sweet first. “Satan,” you cooed, sitting yourself beside him on the bed while he remained curled up in a tight angry ball. “I have some medicin-“

“No.”

Figures, you were reaching with that one. Maybe begging? “Satan, please, please, please, pleaaaaase take-“

“Bite me.”

You scoffed aloud. He was absolutely, without a doubt, being a brat. On par with Belphie right now. You took a moment to recall how you convinced Lucifer and Mammon. Lucifer was only won over when you stood your ground and told him what to do for a change, challenging his pride. Mammon, you went out of your way to get him things, stoking his greed. With wrath…did you? Time to indulge in a little more sin.

“Satan, I swear to the Father above and Diavolo below, if you don’t quit fighting against me when I’m trying to help you, I’m going to shove this entire freaking thing down your throat till it’s the only thing you can taste for decades!” You raised your voice, shouting at him with a fury in your chest you’d never used before, ever. Especially not against Satan. But, against all odds, you were alive, and instead of smoke coming out of his ears, Satan looked up at you from behind messy bangs. Shocked beyond belief, his mouth slightly ajar, he uncurled himself from his position and sat up slowly, his head looking down.

“Tch.” He puffed air through his teeth, giving in finally. Your attempt, while perhaps mediocre without any demonic snarling and mysterious fog, was successful. You hummed to yourself in glee, taking the cap off the bottle and pouring in the medicine. It smelled God-awful, and you felt sympathy for him, but if it was going to make him feel better, he needed it. You held it up to his lips. He growled in frustration but then parted his mouth to let you pour in the foul mixture.

Already pale skin turned even ashier as the glop slid down past the lump in his throat. He looked like he was going to be sick. He slumped his posture and began to release shuddering coughs that nearly turned to gags. You instinctively put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down along the ridge of his spine. Once he was done with the episode, he sat back up, swaying in his seat back and forth until you held onto him, gently bringing him back down onto his pillow. You moved the hair out of his eyes and sighed in relief. Thanks to whatever magic Devildom medicine had, his redness had already gone drastically down, and he looked fairly calm for now. Mellowed out. Some strong stuff…

His eyelids couldn’t decide if they wanted to be open or shut, struggling to fight sleep. “Rest,” you whispered, getting up off his bed, pulling the covers tighter around him, urging him to go to bed. After you helped him, then you would leave him alone, that’s what you promised… even if you desperately wanted to stay. With a little turn, you picked up the book you had brought with you. He grabbed your wrist before you could even attempt to leave. A tilt of the head, and he sleepily read the cover before letting his hand drop back onto the mattress.

“I bought that…for you,” he mumbled. With a grin, you nodded. He had bought it for you during the adventure to London. It was filled with old fairytales and fables, the authentic gruesome kind, not the kind human kids grew up on. Both had their perks in his mind, but Satan seemed particularly fond of the ones that broke free from the stagnant ‘happily ever after’.

“I brought it here for you to read, but you need sleep. Besides you have plenty of other books here…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for his horn that still had the paper stuck to it. You yanked it free with a light chuckle.

“But…” He wanted to argue, but had no energy left to. “Will you…” Satan started, gripping at his own sheets so tight you thought he would rip holes in them. “Read…to me?” Your heart soared so fast you almost went lightheaded. You sat back down on his bed, fussing over him just a bit more, fixing his messy hair. He groaned as you did but let you do it anyway.

“Of course! I’ll read for you whenever, Satan. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“You…” He almost sounded frustrated, like he couldn’t comprehend how you could be so kind especially after the mood he was just in. Then he settled as you flipped the book open to the first page, recounting terribly sad events with a terribly soft voice. Every so often he’d correct you if you fumbled on a word, or correct the inaccuracies of the story itself, but eventually he went to sleep. His eyeballs moved frantically under his eyelids as he slept. His voice would squeak out some incomprehensible word while he dreamt, his fingers twitching in random increments. You noted that his tail that was draped off the side of the bed was now gently curled against your leg. His demonic appendage was rough, sharp in some places, and yet you could hardly feel it with the way he was holding you now. He was comfortable around you.

You used the stray paper that had been on his head as a bookmark, placing the book back on his nightstand for later. “I guess they all get to live happy ever after this time,” you whispered to him in his unconscious state before you pressed the back of your hand against his cheek. Your knuckles tickled his jawline, making his face twitch closer to your hand. “Sweet dreams, Satan. Feel better.”

Lucifer and Mammon were now considered fully healthy and back on their feet with Satan not too far behind them. For a few days, there was hope that the worst was over. It wouldn’t spread any further. The sound of sniffles and the scent of disinfectant wipes would finally dwindle. But, whenever you hope too hard, things always seem to go in the opposite direction. Hopes were dashed when two people were absent from breakfast one morning, and not too long after Satan had finally returned to the table. The twins had never come down from their shared room. For Belphie, this wasn’t something to stop the presses for. Sleeping in and skipping the morning was his whole shtick. His brothers were usually more concerned when Sloth did show up for breakfast. For Beel, however, to miss any sort of meal? Something had to be wrong.

Putting your fork down, you offered to go check on them. After all, morning breakfast was not the same without the two of them. Lucifer was somehow already out of his chair, gently pushing you back to your seat with a single hand on your shoulder. “Please, let me. If they are sick it’s hard telling how they’ll react. They could just as easily be oversleeping.”

You had wanted to protest, but Lucifer was nothing if not the voice of reason. He was right. You had seen Beel’s hunger-driven rampages before. Demonic destruction wasn’t something to sneeze at- no pun intended. Plus, Lucifer was their brother first-and-foremost whilst you were still just some human that had the luxury of living in their home. That fact and the kinder eyes and soft touch Lucifer had given you had won you over to his words. You could trust him to handle this one… He ambled away from the table, and with a few long steps, exited the room.

Asmo was squirming uncomfortably, audibly whining, clearly disturbed. “I was stupid to think this sickness thing was over! With Beel eating everything down to all your leftovers, it’s no wonder he caught your ugly germs! Then he gave it to Belphie, and next you’ll all give it to me!” He pushed his plate away from him, only having a single bite taken out of his meal.

“You don’t know that they’re sick yet,” Mammon rebutted. “And what do you mean my germs are ugly? Everyone’s are!”

“The likelihood that both of them are ill is high.” Satan sighed, putting down his book he had brought with him. After doing his best to tune them out, it just wasn’t working. He still was weaker than he’d like to be, not to mention drained, but a doctor had confirmed that he was no longer contagious and could continue attending his classes at RAD. “The fridge has been abnormally full and I heard plenty of coughing from Belphie the other day.”

An alarming banging sound came from above their heads, little specks of dust from the ceiling floated down, only just visible in the direct light. As if this proved his theory, Satan gestured towards the noise with a raised hand. He held it up for a moment before his arm dropped into his lap. Another loud crash sounded from above, Satan’s eyelid twitching as Lucifer’s booming voice could be heard throughout the house.

This was enough for Asmo to get up from his spot, shaking his head profusely. “I swear if I catch this thing, all of you are absolutely going to have it, you hear me?!” He choked back a sob and went to leave the room, pulling his sleeve down over his hand as he touched the doorknob.

“Oi, where are you going?” Mammon called after him.

“To take a nice hot sanitizing shower!” The demon of lust slammed the door to the dining hall as you watched more dust sprites dance down from the air. They twirled and pirouetted right over Levi. His nose twitched and he raised his elbow to cover his face as he let out a sneeze.

Levi, the only one who had been quiet this far, finally let out a long groan. He glanced down at his hands fearfully, as if they had been covered with blood. “No… No! No, no, no, I’m sick, I knew it! Of course it would be me! I’m gross and miserable and… do you know how long it takes to fully clean a keyboard?!”

Satan rested his head back in his chair, closing his eyes in annoyance. The ruckus upstairs had gotten worse. It was difficult to tell just from audio alone who Lucifer was wrangling. Maybe both Beel and Belphie at once?… Normally, Satan would work on figuring the little mystery out, but it seemed as if he’d met his limit already. People were fist-fighting, two people were having meltdowns, and it was only breakfast. The intellectual usually had no problem going to classes, enjoyed them more than others actually, and yet the look on his face screamed truancy. “Levi, I doubt you’re sick, you never leave your room,” Satan reasoned.

“I told you all, I think he snuck into my room a little while back! One of my figures was moved! I bet Mammon got his sticky fingers over everything! He gave me the cold!”

Add accusations onto the daily list. They all might end up going though their daily atrocities before lunch today. Now the only three brothers left at the table were verbally sparring, one tense word away from physically— You frowned as your food ended up on the far side of the room along with the table. You thought too soon. Unfortunately, this sort of scenario happened often. So, you excused yourself, knowing none of them were listening, expertly dodging a plate as it whirled past. The dish struck against the wall a few inches from you, luckily not shattering. It clattered to the floor as a waffle slowly slid downwards. While you were still unharmed and food-free, you left the dining room. After wandering the halls trying to find a safe and silent place, you sat yourself on the stone steps of the entryway. You’d just wait for the multiple battles to die down. There was screaming downstairs, crashing upstairs, the whole house in chaos once again.

“Demons…” you sighed. --

Lucifer confirmed it. Beel and Belphie…both of them had caught the cold, and the eldest had spent the past hour or so attempting to force them into taking some medicine. He had succeeded naturally, and you shuddered a bit to think about the sort of tactics he employed, but when all was said and done, he had taken the time to seek you out. It was clear to you that even with all his power and prowess…he was exhausted. With Beel’s physical power and Belphie’s cunning, it seems even Pride had broken a bit of a sweat. There was still plenty of Student Council catchup to be done too… and now he had the twin’s work to start on. He needed a helping hand, and while he didn’t express it bluntly, he did ask for your assistance.

Apparently they were calm now, the medicine lulling and sedating them, so you could see them freely without worry of them tearing you or the house apart. Lucifer still addressed you with a bit of concern. “You’ve been on the brunt of all of this.” On one hand, he appreciated the work you had done. On the other… “I’m concerned for your health. Diavolo was fairly confident you couldn’t get infected, but we still don’t know for certain…” His voice drifted, slightly disappointed in himself, feeling like there was more he should be doing. “Regardless, the last thing we need is for you to fall ill as well.” You persuaded him that if you hadn’t gotten sick yet, you were sure you were immune. You’d been in direct contact with nearly all of them and hadn’t so much as sneezed. Lucifer wasn’t entirely convinced, obviously mentally preparing for the worst of outcomes, but he let you do what you needed to do. And that was taking care of the two youngest.

Homemade soup; the medicine for the soul or so people said. Something comforting and filling yet easy for the stomach. With Satan’s assistance, you concocted the most soothing meal you had ever made. Two steaming bowls were settled on an elegant silver tray and brought it up to the twins room. The door to their bedroom had a golden emblem ingrained in the wood. A moon encircling a sun, resembling the same individual symbols above both their beds. You carefully balanced the tray on your hip for just a moment as you softly tapped your knuckles against the smooth wood. Unlike the other brothers you had cared for so far, someone actually opened the door for you for a change.

Beel looked down at you, eyes heavy and slightly reddened. He was wearing a faded orange t-shirt and some black shorts. Heat radiated off of him in nauseating droves. If you had thought the other brothers had burnt up, nothing compared to Beel’s temperature. Even just standing beside him made you dizzy. As if hellfire was roaring through his veins. His shirt stuck to the skin around his torso, sweat beading down his forehead. His abs and muscles were clearly shown through the fabric, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed one of his eyes with a hand, not even focusing on the soup bowls. “MC, what’re you doing here?”

You lifted up the tray with both hands and presented the meal you made with him. The creamy broth with hearty vegetables and noodles would surely make him feel better. “Soup!” You exclaimed quietly, feeling a mite proud of what you’d created. “You never came down for breakfast so…” You must be hungry, you kept the last part to yourself.

He frowned deeply, being rather dismissive. “I’m not hungry, and Belphie’s asleep.” A simple glance past Beel’s body confirmed that there was indeed a lump in Belphie’s bed. Many lumps in fact. There must’ve been plenty new additions to his pillow collection. “I’m sorry you went through the trouble,” Beel sighed, his arm raised to shut the door. Your attention snapped away from Belphie, back to the demon at hand. Was he shutting you out? Really? He had never done that, ever. All of his other brothers, sure, but him? He always had his door and his arms wide open for you at all times. Your leg served as a quick wedge, feeling your knee temporarily painfully pressed between door and frame. As soon as he realized he was hurting you, the door was thrown back open.

“Beel wait, please, you haven’t eaten all day! How are you going to give your body enough strength to heal if you don’t give it any fuel?” You looked up at him expectantly, trying to convey the care and worry you held for him through your eyes. Beel always advocated for taking care of your body. Those words you shared were the ones he had used on you once before. He was somehow always aware of what you had eaten and when. Same for his brothers. Sure, his sin might take over and he might accidentally eat your food, but he still determined to make sure everyone he cared for was well fed. It was about time you returned the favor.

“But the medicine…” He pressed one hand to his gut, his nose wrinkling up at the mention of food. His normally sturdy legs wobbled as he stumbled a bit, gripping the end of the door-frame for balance. The usual glow in his countenance had gone dull. It broke your heart. Beel seemed to always be strong, always be positive, always have a smile on his face when it came to food and family. Now, he just seemed out of it, eager to head back to bed with both you and proper sustenance on the other side of the door. Curse this tray for occupying both of your hands. You wanted to go wrap him up in your arms and make him feel protected and cared for… even if he was much bigger than you were.

“The medicine might be why you feel sick to your stomach in the first place. You didn’t happen to eat anything before Lucifer gave it to you, did you?” Your words brought his eyes up from staring at the floor and back to you. Orange strands of his hair were freed from the skin on his forehead as he shook his head to your question. An answer wasn’t quite necessary anyway, from the fighting you heard and Lucifer’s brief description, the older brother forced the medicine down both the twins throats before they had a chance to protest. You lifted the tray back up near Beel’s face. The contents of the bowls sloshed enough to almost drip over the edge. “You might feel better if you eat. Even just a little? I… made it for both of you.”

It wasn’t often you attempted to employ the puppy-eyed look. However, it seemed necessary in this instance. All these demons were weak to you, and you knew it. You could only hope it was enough this time… Beel was stuck having an intense internal debate. The door in his hand was creaking open and shut while he decided if he wanted to let you in or not. If he wanted to eat or not… Your heart sank as he seemed to come to the conclusion to prevent you from entering, the door almost clicking back into place to leave you in an empty hallway. If this was what he wanted, could you really change his mind? Just as you were about to leave, the door was pulled back wide open, his eyes a little watery as he made it up in his mind that he could never shut you out like that. Your chest swelled as he let you in, shutting the door quietly behind you.

The room was almost consumed in pitch darkness as soon as the entrance closed. The only light source seemed to be coming from Beel’s side of the room emanating from the screen of his D.D.D. on his nightstand. Crossing the room, you waited until the demon climbed back onto his mattress, sitting up while he pulled the covers over his legs. Not wanting to speak as to disturb Belphie, you extended one finger from the tray handle and pointed at his bed as a question. As he nodded, you settled by his hip, placing the tray on his lap. His blankets were soft, and with a stroke of your hand, you smoothed out some of the wrinkles.

The sight of the soup made Beel grimace at first. He was hesitant, but it was clear he was starving. His sin was tearing him up inside. He was only prolonging the pain. “Is my cooking really that bad?” You frowned, embarrassed, unsure if his reaction was towards your talents in the kitchen or the state of his sickly body.

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Gluttony couldn’t quite find the words to describe what he was feeling. But you understood well enough. You’d been sick before in your life. You knew what it was like to feel the hunger pains alongside the nausea. Eating made you feel worse. Not eating made you feel like hell. He must be miserable. This was probably a rare feeling for him.

“Take it slow,” you whispered, your hand coming up to rub his shoulder.

After taking a minute to mentally prepare, he took your advice to heart, starting with a simple spoonful. He blew away the steam and took the smallest bite- or slurp- you’d ever seen him have. He chewed on some of the softened vegetables before swallowing. There was no need to ask how it was. His head raised back up, small tears making their way down his cheeks. He leaned in towards you, his chin almost resting on your shoulder. “It’s…so delicious. May I…eat it?”

You chuckled, grinning with relief as a little bit of color came back to his face, his expression not looking so pained. Sounded like he was already breathing easier too. “Yes, Beel, I made it for you.”

He sat up away from you, the happy glow returned to his eyes as he went to work not only downing the bowl for him, but the bowl for Belphie as well. You made a mental note to come take care of the other twin later. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up sleeping for days on end like he’d been known to do a few times before… With one of the twins looking already worlds better with some warm food in his stomach, you went to go stand up to leave, but two big arms wrapped around your body to hold you in place. The hot skin on Beel’s cheek pressed against your forehead as he sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

You rested your head against his chest as he held you even tighter. “You’re welcome, Beel. I’ll be your personal chef till you feel better.”

With a contented sigh, Beel buried his nose in your hair, his hands gripping your shirt. He leaned back against his headboard, bringing you along with him as you almost laid on top of him. It didn’t seem like he was going to let you go anytime soon. He closed his eyes and with one hand he flipped his D.D.D over so there was nothing but blackness in the room. Relaxed lungs brought in deep even breaths. He was still ridiculously hot, but not unbearably so anymore. His words devolved into sleepy mumbles. “You’re so much better than any food in the world…”

The twins were sick, Lucifer was working himself ragged, and the rest of the brothers were avoiding their siblings like…well…like the plague. You never initially intended to become a nurse, but how could you sit by and do nothing while the demons around you that you had come to care for suffered? And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were thankful that there was something you could do to help around for once. It wasn’t often at all where you were put in a situation where you could be the protector, the helper, the one they relied on. However, as much as you liked that feeling, you hoped this spreading sickness would end with Beel and Belphie. The constant care you were dishing out was starting to leave you more exhausted than normal.

Telling anyone about your state though would most likely end in immediate termination of your new career in demon caretaking. So you kept it to yourself. These brothers were now leaning on you harder than ever, including the ones who had already been sick. Just the thought of all their faces, pale and sick in bed, lighting up at the sight of you entering the room as you pet their heads sent tingles down your spine. You wanted to take care of them…all of them, forever.

You violently shook your own head as you gripped the handle to your bedroom. What am I thinking? Is the Florence Nightingale trope really true? The door gently creaked open as you stepped inside.

Eternal moonlight had it perks, but being able to tell time was never one of them. What hour was it now? Your day had been occupied fulfilling several requests from the many members of the household. The typically hungry demon would now only eat food you made for him, and while you did promise to be his personal chef, it was beginning to overwhelm you. Not only chef, but you’d been hired in several other new ‘departments’. You’d become the new mailman, bringing packages from the front door to the otaku with severe hypochondriac tendencies. The librarian and storyteller for the bookworm who was milking his symptoms for as long as he could, partially because he truly enjoyed your company, but also because he enjoyed his brother’s complaints as he kept you to himself. The beauty product tester and fashion assistant for Asmo who refused to let any of his brothers touch him with a ten foot pole. The lawyer for Mammon who was apparently determined to get himself into trouble more so than not lately. And also Lucifer’s new temp secretary. You had so many reminders set on your phone for things he needed to get done. But the eldest was determined not to let things fall apart just because a few of his brothers were ill.

Should you be getting paid for this?…

Tired feet were dragged across the floor of your bedroom as you made your way towards your bed. It called to you; a sleepy siren’s song. The blankets reminiscent of a sweet melody, the pillows the alluring notes. With the last of your energy, you swiftly kicked off your shoes, letting them roll and settle crookedly on the hardwood floor. You let yourself fall face first onto your bed, the springs bouncing you up and down gently from the sudden impact. A moan escaped your lips, one you never had the intention for, but your body betrayed you. Laying down felt nice… Rain and wind outside started to kick up, the sound brushing and pouring against your window. It was like the night was comforting you, the weather speaking to you softly. It’s okay to get some rest.

Without bothering to change into pajamas, you crawled under your covers, pulling the blanket tightly near your face. Muscles and joints in your body started to ache, and you furrowed your brows as you shut your eyes. Had you really worked all that much? What exactly did you do that forced your body to feel this sore? You let out a sigh and brushed your cheek against your pillow. Already, the back of your mind was buzzing with sleep, and even if you tried to come up with some specific answer explaining why your body hurt in places you didn’t even know existed, you wouldn’t be able to. This would probably been the fastest you fell asleep in a long time, conking out without a second thought. —-

Fire haunted your dreams that night, the heat making you lightheaded. Your subconscious body struggled to navigate the obstacles of this place. The House of Lamentation was on fire, by reasons unknown, as dreams often do. You were frantically looking for the brothers, your mind thoroughly convinced they all still resided inside. Lips moved as you could’ve sworn you were screaming their names, but the roaring sounds of the flames muffled your voice. No matter how hard you squeezed your lungs, no sound came out. You felt yourself collapse to the ground, unable to move. You were hot. Too hot. You-

A low scraping noise shocked your body awake. It took you a moment to reel in reality, to settle yourself back into your senses, the dream drifting far behind you now. A squeak sounded. A harsh squealing grind of two hard surfaces rubbing against each other. It left a strange feeling in your teeth and pumped your mind with adrenaline. You sat up in bed immediately, the alarm for danger blaring on high alert.

It was hard to see through all the darkness. Clouds had covered the moonlight, leaving little to no light to guide your way. The only thing you could see with your adjusting vision was a shadow creeping around your room. It staggered. Drifting around as if searching for something, a deep inhuman growl rumbling through it’s disfigured body. Your fingers trembled as the sound echoed in your mind. How had it gotten in the house? There were no distinct features you could make out, the creature didn’t have any limbs. It was one giant blob, dragging itself across the floor, moving and knocking over the chairs in your room as it did so. That must’ve been the cause of the sound that woke you up. Was it hunting for something?…

A few options for survival bubbled up in your mind. Screaming for help wasn’t a smart decision. One loud noise, and the creature would more than likely beeline it straight for you. Besides, with the demon brother’s sporadic schedules, you weren’t sure anyone would hear you anyway. Your room was all the way down near the kitchen…your roommates blissfully asleep upstairs. You had half a mind to text someone to save you, but if you got caught in the light from your screen, that might also cause an instant game over. However, that did remind you to lean over to put your device on silent. You would not be that stupid survivor in the horror trope that got killed due to a notification. Oh, if only you had given in to Lucifer’s odd request to install some sort of security system. You had denied it. Said it sounded more like a baby monitor than anything else. Now look where it got you.

The intruder seemed distracted and confused, just as blinded as you were in the darkness. Maybe you could make a run for it… it seemed rather sluggish. But assuming things could get you killed. But what other options did you have?… Right now, the thing was finally drifting away from the table and towards the middle of the room, inching ever closer to your bed. The luxury of time was not something you had. It was settled. You’d book it out of here and run to someone else’s room… Just look for an opportunity… The wailing mass was getting closer. Just a few more seconds. Your heart was rattling harder than the wind against your windows. Just a little bit farther! Heat was waving off the creature and onto you, reminding you of your dream. It moaned unnaturally, shuffling slowly, wandering without a purpose. You quietly swung your legs over the end of the bed so you could finally make your dash to freedom. The blood pumping through your head was deafening.

A thud reverberated throughout the room, making you jump, freezing your body in place. The creature had collapsed on your floor. It slowly squirmed, writhing, it’s shape melting away before a humanoid hand poked out of it’s frame.

“O…w…”

The familiar voice washed over you in a refreshing shower of familiarity. You pressed a hand to your chest as you took in a deep relaxing breath. Although you didn’t waste too much time before rushing to the floor, kneeling beside the shape. The shell it had shed felt soft. You grabbed the surface with both of your hands, peeling it back to reveal a confused disoriented demon.

“Belphie…” You nearly went off on him, ready to spend the rest of the night giving him a Lucifer-style lecture. But, too tired to do something like that, you simply wrapped your arms around the seventh brother. Eyes rolled in your head, embarrassed and annoyed by your own paranoia and stupidity. Although that sort of paranoia had let you live in the Devildom thus far. That and a ridiculous amount of luck… Though if the other brothers found out you mistook Belphie and a puffy duvet for some sort of lumbering undead slug-monster, they would never let you live it down. Speaking of which…you suddenly remembered that he’d taken quite a tumble. “Are you okay?” He never answered, but you quickly found the source of his fall. The shoes you had left haphazardly on the floor. You bit your lip in a bit of shame. Before they could claim another victim, you snagged your shoes and tucked them away in a not so trippable place. Then you returned your focus near the lump. “Belphie? What’re you doing here?” You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, although as you did, you nearly reeled back. Sloth was burning up.

“…anna…o…ome…” He mumbled, not focused on you at all, his eyes were even still closed. Chipped nails clawed at your rugs, pushing himself on his arms just to collapse again. Your chest squeezed as you grabbed his arms. Convinced he was still asleep, you tried shaking him, feeling the palms of your hands tingle against his unhealthy and infernal temperature.

“Belphie!”

None of your attempts to wake him up were working, so you turned your attention to the only thing you could do. Bringing his heat down. The blanket you had tried tugging off of him was somehow twisted around his limbs. After turning him on his back, you worked on unraveling him, feeling his hands paw at your body. He was deep in some fever dream, one bad scene away from thrashing… Frantically, you plucked a pillow from off your own bed and tucked it under his head. You brushed sticky strands of hair off his forehead, watching him mumble some more.

“..illith…Beel…”

Might as well have heard your own heart crack right then, but you couldn’t let it get to you. Feeling against the walls, you moved around your room till you found the light switch. Once you could see, you went right to work. Thankfully, due to your efforts before, you now kept extra medicine and supplies in your room. It was actually Satan who suggested it, and while you thought it had been a silly idea, now you were grateful.

When you returned to Belphie’s side with all your items, you almost regretted turning the light on. Panting, his mouth open to try and breathe, lips so dry they were nearly bloody. His skin was covered in splotches of color, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he couldn’t stop shivering. You placed a bowl of water, rags, medicine, bottles of water, and a glass of only ice beside you on the floor. As soon as you returned to his vicinity, his limbs moved to get up again. You settled a rag in the water then gently pushed him back to the floor with a single hand. He contorted and attempted to roll as you quickly wrung out the rag, pressing it against his forehead, keeping him against the ground using your own body. In only a few seconds, the cloth was completely warm. You dipped it back in, feeling a bit of panic rise in your lungs as Belphie continued to pant.

“Breathe…Belphie, breathe.” You rubbed his chest as you held him down, cooling off his face and neck with the damp cloth. You didn’t know how long you kept up this motion. Comfort, dip, cool. Soothe, wipe, cool. Over and over as the fire in him refused to leave. He needed to wake up to take the medicine, you weren’t sure you could get it down his throat in this condition. You let your hand drift from his chest for just a second to check your D.D.D. It was now four in the morning. A full hour of this, by your estimations. Should you text someone? Were you doing the right thing? Were you just making things worse? You fought with yourself and your emotions for a few more minutes, but then felt your worry assuage. It seemed as if he broke though the worst all in a second. Belphie’s breathing wasn’t as ragged as he no longer gasped for breath. He was still moving a bit though, wearily and weakly.

“Ahh…haah…” He wheezed, and for what felt like the hundredth time, you rubbed his cheeks with the wet fabric, brushing your hand back and forth across his chest. He raised his arms and grabbed your shirt and sleeve, trying to pull you close in his sleep.

“Shh, it’s alright.” His hands were trembling against you, but finally, he seemed to hear your words. The smallest slit of his eyes was visible as he did his best to open them.

“M…C…”

Overjoyed tears stung your eyes. The rag in your hand dropped to the floor as you caressed his face with your hands. He still wasn’t quite awake or aware, but he was attentive enough to try to pull himself up, still clutching tightly onto your clothes. The first thing on your mind was medicine. You filled up the measured cap and brought it to him, tilting his head back with the brace of one of your hands. Thankfully--or perhaps worriedly--he took it without questioning it. He grimaced a little, but the bitter and awful taste of the medicine brought him more into reality.

“Where?” He released your sleeve as he rubbed his eyes.

“That’s not important right now, can you stand? We should get you to bed.” You stroked his head, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just nodded, and with your assistance, he almost managed to fully stand. To keep from falling over, he leaned his body against you. It was all you could do to keep from collapsing yourself. Fortunately, your bed was right here, and you let him plop into your space. A sigh left his shallow lungs.

With what little energy he had left, he practically clawed himself towards the far side of the bed turning in several agonizing increments to face you. He held out his hands and squeaked out your name. “MC…”

Your emotions hitched in your chest as you watched him beg for you. There was still a mess on the floor… but you left it where it was as long as the universe was done sending demons tumbling through your room. You rushed over to the light switch and turned the brightness off. You slid into the extra space Belphie left for you, taking him into your arms and feeling him immediately get comfortable. At least he was no longer boiling. He was a little too warm, but nothing life threatening.

He curled up by your side, as you pulled up the covers over both of you. With a few sleepy nudges, he had his head tucked under your chin. You could hear air rattle around in his chest, so you reached around his body and rubbed his back, and in return, he squeezed you like one of his many pillows. All at once, the adrenaline and panic left your body, leaving you winded and exhausted. You were unsure if it was Belphie’s Sin or simply your body at it’s breaking point, but you couldn’t keep yourself awake any longer. Before you could make sure he fell asleep first, your eyelids crashed closed as you passed out next to him.

Normalcy slowly began to trickle back into the House of Lamentation. The twins were feeling better, most everyone was returning to classes, routines were falling back into place. Everyone was finally convinced this was all over. Even Lucifer, who liked to account for the worst, was acting rather optimistic lately. Although you yourself, who had loved soaking up every sickly cuddle and embarrassing (and rather blackmailable) favors, was secretly a bit disappointed. It was great that they were all doing better! But…perhaps part of you liked feeling needed.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan, were all well past this illness, and with Levi and Asmo doing everything they could to avoid their siblings, it was assumed that this misadventure had burnt itself out with the twins. Although, one person in the household was determined not to let this go. Levi was doing his best to convince everyone that he was extremely ill.

“I searched my symptoms on SpiderWeb MD! If I’m not sick I’ve been cursed and I only have a few days left to live!” he would complain. His siblings were all convinced that Envy had caught nothing but a terrible case of hypochondria. At one point, he’d even sent his last will through the group chat should he perish an untimely demise. A lot of his stuff went to you, which was deeply touching considering he had a hard enough time letting you look at his stuff much less touch it. Music records would go to Lucifer, manga to Satan, cosplay outfits to Asmo, his special snacks to Beel, and his body pillows to Belphie. Nothing was left for Mammon, which caused a small riot in itself.

It had been several days since anyone had seen or heard any trace of Levi. Everything he needed could be ordered on Akuzon, and he’d been taking classes exclusively online. It got to the point where everyone had been certain he’d never leave his room again. Of course, the eldest had checked on his little brother regardless, but he’d been written off with a clean bill of health. After that, Lucifer had been convinced he was just craving attention. Levi would hole himself away over the vaguest sign of symptoms and not come out till he was ready. No one believed him. For a while, they had you convinced as well, assuring you that he hadn’t been sick for centuries. There was nothing to be worried about. However, you still carried that worry with you, that infuriating kind of angelic trust that drove the brothers crazy. But ‘what if’, you wondered, what if he’s sitting in his room right now with no one to help him?

The only semblance of interaction you’d had with Levi in the past week was dropping off his Akuzon packages to the front of his door. You’d knock, be forced to ramble off an impossibly confusing password, and then leave for him to drag his packages inside. The first time you’d done it, you’d waited, only to watch him pop his head meekly out the door. Upon seeing you, he squeaked and promptly slammed the door shut. Now he would wait for you to fully depart before grabbing his loot. But today, you were determined to see him. Sure he was a demon, sure everyone had promised he was fine, but something left you uneasy. You needed to see with your own eyes that he was okay.

Making your way down the hall, continuously shifting your arms to keep things balanced, you approached Levi’s room with several packages in hand. The number of items he purchased was getting larger and more concerning with each delivery. Seeing as your hands were occupied, you gently kicked his door three times with the tip of your shoe. You crouched down low near the floor, placing his items neatly in a pile. Stiffly, you uttered the strange password Levi encouraged you to memorize to confirm the drop-off and assure him there was no one else in sight.

“The water dragon, caretaker of the mystic lakes, looks up to the heavens…” You paused, waiting for his response. A few seconds. Then a minute. You couldn’t help but raise a brow as a little jolt went through your chest with worry. Typically by now, Levi would be in the middle of his segment of the password. This all was routine. Taking a few steps forward, you pressed your ears to the cold wood of his door. All was silent. From the top? You walked a few steps away just to round the door again, making your footsteps heavier, louder. Then you attempted the entire process again. Using your fist this time, you knocked loudly against the entrance to his fortress of solitude. Uttering the incantation once more, you found yourself almost shouting the code phrase. There was still no response.

Throwing caution to the wind, you gave yourself access into his room. You winced once the light from inside hit your face, expecting some sort of curse or hex to flood your body. Air soothed your lungs when you discovered you were relatively unharmed. It didn’t require any amount of searching to locate the demon. Curled up, in demon form…at the bottom of his fish tank. Of course, you knew these people were not quite people, but that didn’t stop your stomach from flipping and your human brain to somersault over itself in panic. That wasn’t normal! You stammered over your words, dashing forward to press your palms against the glass.

“Levi! What the-” You cut yourself off as you looked around for anything that could assist you with this…emergency. Underwater! He was underwater!

How many times have you been scolded for acting before thinking? Too many to count, especially down here where the wrong misstep could kill you easily. Did you still end up jumping into the fish tank? Yes. Yes, you did. Using Levi’s desk and shelves, you climbed up, throwing your body into the water. It wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be based on how chilly Levi kept his room. It was a bit nippy, but nothing terrible. You sunk down, grabbing the horns sticking from Levi’s head. God, how were you going to pull him out of here? This tank was the size of his wall! As soon as you began to tug on the horns, Levi’s eyes snapped open. His tail wrapped around your waist once he recognized your face. You ended up getting flung out of the tank, dangling in the air a few inches above the ground as the chill of the oxygen on your wet skin formed goosebumps all over your body. Levi gripped the edge of the glass.

“What?! I-I- that was totally- MC! I can’t believe-” He settled you to the ground as he climbed his way out of the water, almost slipping and falling from the tank. A large pool formed on the floor beneath your feet. As he tried to find his words, gasping in shock at finding you in Henry 2.0’s tank, he started coughing. He bowled over, his arm covering his mouth as his lungs squeaked and wheezed as he seemed to cough uncontrollably. Levi’s chest began convulsing so painfully, tears started speckling from his eyes, only to get swept up into the moisture already streaming down his face. His tail, still around your body, clutched to you tighter, like an involuntary form of comfort for him.

“Levi…” You approached the demon of Envy, both of you dripping wet, and you pressed your forehead to his. Despite having soaked in water for however long he had been in there, he was burning. His little gasp at your form of contact drove him further into his coughing fit. You apologetically rubbed his back, helping him catch his breath while you scrambled around to get dry clothes, nearly losing your footing on the wet tile.

“Don’t!” He pleaded with you as you pulled open his drawers.

“You need dry clothes, you’ll get even sicker if you’re soaking!” His face started to flush as some color came to his cheeks. He had yet to relinquish his tail from around your person, wrapping around you tightly like the firm squeeze of a hug, following you around like a drenched puppy. “Why in the world were you in the fish tank anyway?!” A proper scolding was in order. After all, how ridiculous had that been? “I was worried you’d drowned…” You muttered that last part to yourself as you plucked out a t-shirt with the decal on the front from some anime you couldn’t recall. A random pair of shorts was added to the mix, throwing the dry outfit to him alongside a much needed towel. Clutching the articles of clothing to his chest, he blushed even harder. The muscles of his tail forced you to turn with your face to the wall as you felt the soft scales finally slink away. You could hear him stumble around as he struggled to get himself dressed. He wasn’t acting like normal.

At that moment, all the guilt that had been building up these past few days washed over you. He really had been sick after all. How long had he been here alone, taking care of himself because no one would believe him enough to take care of him? But Lucifer had said he’d been checked… Did he get sick after that? Or was there something someone missed? Although, the when didn’t quite matter now. No chance fretting too much over something you couldn’t change. You had the chance to help him now.

“I was hot…” Levi answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then next time hop in the bath! Don’t go scuba diving in a fish tank! A fish tank, Levi!”

It was as if you could feel him wincing at your firm words. It wasn’t often you raised your voice at them. Envy wasn’t taking the tone too well, shuddering as he inhaled broken quivering breaths. He didn’t have an answer for you on why he made the decision he did. Rationalization probably went out of his mind once the fever set in. Had he really been that hell-bent on not leaving his room? “You can…look now.” Turning away from the wall, you found yourself tutting. Levi had put the clothes over his wet form, the towel simply lying on top of his head, the horns holding it comically up away from his body.

“…I should’ve been here to help you.” You placed your hands over the dry cloth, getting it away from his branching horns, gently rubbing into his skin. Too weak to shoo you away or say anything about it, he simply covered his face with his hands as you used the towel to dry him off. “But I’m here now…and you don’t have to worry as long as I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” You started with his hair, working your way down to his arms. Your gentle motions, your soft tone, your overall comfort, it was enough to weaken his walls of anxiety. A few steps and he was right next to you. He slumped, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck. Your skin was still cool from the water, and he sighed as his forehead came into contact with it. His tail ended up curling around you once more, clutching your torso tightly as he gripped onto your clothes. “Come on,” you urged him, leading him over to his bedding. It was better than the fish tank only by a small margin, containing a ton of pillows and several plush blankets to act as a cushion inside. At least it was dry…

“Sorry…” Levi gasped, as he lifted himself into his nest. The tickle of his word turned into more harsh coughs. You leaned over the porcelain walls of the tub to pet his head. He nearly melted into your hands. He curled up, nestling further into the cushions as you pulled a blanket partially over him.

“Don’t be sorry. I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you, I should’ve been by your side by square one. That’s what people who care about you do…” You gave him a sweet smile as he teared up a little, pulling a body pillow close to his chest as he covered his face. He simply gave you a hum in response. “I’ll go get some medicine and bring in those packages for you, and then I’ll be right back.” Taking a step back, you felt the tail wrapped around your body gripping you tighter. “Levi,” you cooed, petting the smooth scales with your hand. “I’ll be right back, let me go.” He reluctantly complied, silently pulling his tail into the tub with him, curling around his own body for support. Running your fingers through your still wet hair, you went back out to the hall, dragging Levi’s packages into his room before setting off to grab some medicine. A quick sneeze shuttered your body, leaving you lightheaded as you leaned against the wall to keep yourself upright. A chill ran through your spine. Shaking your head, you picked up the pace to your bedroom to change into warm and dry clothes.

As soon as you were no longer dripping, you grabbed the medicine bottle from off the table in your room. Collectively, the household had almost gone through the entire container, leaving only a few servings left. You bit your lip and then briskly headed back to Levi. In the short amount of time you’d been gone, it seemed as if he already drifted off to sleep. You shut the door behind you as softly as you could manage, then came over to the sleeping otaku. All these demons, you recalled, claimed to be so scary and intimidating, yet all of them managed to look something like this. Levi was clutching his tail, his forehead pressed against the coolness of the side of the tub. It felt like a crime to wake him, but you brushed your hand against his cheek anyway.

“Levi… Levi?” You called, watching his eyelids flitter as they slowly opened. “Here, take this, it’ll help you feel better.” You held a capful of the remedy to his lips. A flicker of stubbornness and defiance flashed in his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t say no to you, especially with how nicely you were treating him. He’d take it with a smile if you had asked him too. Placing the medicine aside, you turned down the lights in his room, watching the reflection of the water dance across the ceiling. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Levi?”

You heard him squeak before he spoke. “You cuddled with each of my brothers…”

Stifling a chuckle, you merely blinked at him. “You want me to cuddle with you?”

He used his arm to cover his eyes. “Y-you said it, not me!”

“Move over then,” you grinned, lifting your leg over the lid of the tub to make your way in. It was a bit awkward, being a bathtub and all. There wasn’t as much space as you expected. The sloped sides guided you into Levi’s body, where you could feel every muscle inside him tense. “Alright, here we go, sleep will make you feel better.” You rested your head right next to his, noses almost touching. His lip twitched in embarrassment, but once more he pressed his forehead against your neck, exhaling deeply as he allowed his body to relax. “There you go…” You rubbed his back as he got in close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Time as Levi’s nurse passed fairly quickly. Apparently regular doses of constant attention was the best kind of medicine for a touch-starved demon. He was still weaker than anyone would enjoy, but he was back in front of his screens in no time. Although, every so often he’d give you a side glance and rattle his body with a loud cough. Sometimes he would do this and cause the other previous afflicted to do the same. You’d even caught Lucifer clearing his throat in your vicinity once. They were all milking this to the last drop. Aside from the pseudo-symptoms, at last, it was all over. Surely, tonight you’d finally let your sore exhausted body get some rest with the relief in knowing that whatever demon illness had been plaguing the brothers was finally gone… Even cases in the Devildom were dropping. The whispers at RAD were returning to normal discussions. The worst was over.

That was… until everyone in the House of Lamentation was awoken one night to a blood-curdling scream. You awoke in a sweat, hair on your arms standing up on end. Before you could comprehend anything, you dashed out to the hallway, apparently the last to join the stunned members of the household. Mammon was still attempting to find balance on his feet, cursing about one of his legs being asleep. Levi rubbed his eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was supposed to be regaining his strength. Satan looked more intrigued than anything. Beel was ready for action, but, surprisingly enough, Belphie looked more awake than anyone before you. These were his hours, you supposed. Lucifer was a strange combination of furious due to having his rest be interrupted--he barely gets enough as it is--and concerned.

“MC…” The eldest instinctively took a step towards you. “Oh, thank Diavolo,” he sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead, quelling the stress headache, thankful you weren’t the cause of the haunting wail. “We’ve got…” He began the head check, ushering his brothers closer to him much like a teacher making sure the whole class was there for the field trip. The realization hit you at the same moment it hit him. “Asmo.” No one hesitated in dashing to his room, the adrenaline pumping in you more as the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood reached your ears. Worry clamped your throat shut, forgetting how to properly breathe as the group sprinted down the halls.

Mammon was the first to reach the door, throwing all caution to the wind as he immediately kicked the wood in. The entrance hit the floor with a loud bang, coming clean off it’s hinges, and you attempted to peer in. A firm hand grabbed you by the back of the collar and yanked you back. Lucifer pulled you behind his body. Just in time too, for just at that moment, an entire dresser launched itself from the bedroom, smacking against Mammon, pinning him against the back wall of the hallway. Every square inch of you was desperate to scream, to run to Greed, but the demon of pride had you held tightly against his body. Mammon got up off the floor, shaking his head. There were no visible injuries, in fact, he was barely even bothered, just frustrated.

“For the love of... Asmo!” The second brother growled, and another shriek echoed through the halls, shaking the windows. You brought your hands up to cover your ears, and Lucifer quickly handed you off to Levi.

“What’s happening?” The strength of your legs began to waver, and, for a split second, the eldest’s eyes grew wide at your distress. Of course you wouldn’t know, how could you? Sometimes he forgets you’re only a human.

Placing a gentle hand on your head, he let out another sleep-deprived groan, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst his siblings dashed into the chaos. “It’s what we all feared. Asmo has fallen ill. It happens once every few centuries, and every time it happens, it gets—“ Something else broke to pieces, shrapnel embedding itself in the door-frame. A mess. “Stay with Levi. We’ll work on calming him down.” With that, he turned and swiftly joined the fray. A swirl of blue magic surrounded the door, lifting it from it’s position, settling back against the frame to shield you out while shouts and bangs rattled the ground. All you could do was blink in frightful awe and flinch at every awful sound.

“C-come on, it’s best if we go…N-now. Like, right now,” Levi breathed, his voice shaking with terror. You raised an eyebrow, trying to piece together why he sounded as if he was in danger.

You didn’t have the time to question why. The wall separating the room from the hallway nearly crumbled, bricks and rubble coating the floor. Peachy eyes glowed harshly against the dark of night. “Levi…” The figure growled maliciously as the dust settled. “You did this to me…you all did this to me!” Ah, right. Of course the blame would lie with the most recently infected. And now you were standing right next to the target.

“Oi!”

In a swirl of motion, demons rushed to tackle him down, but not before the person behind the destruction began to lunge in yours and Levi’s direction. The third-born twisted his body, beginning to pull you behind him to shield you, but your body moved almost on its own. Tugging yourself out of Levi’s grip, you moved forward with an outstretched arm. “Asmo!” The palm of your hand came into contact with his chest. You felt the frantic beating of his heart. Everything seemed to stop all at once. The rampage put itself at pause as Asmo looked at you with wide eyes, his hands still raised, razor sharp claws atoms away from brushing against your skin. With your hand on his chest, you could tell that he’d stopped breathing. You took this moment to observe his face. Nose red, eyes puffy from angry tears, overall looking drained, missing vibrancy. The glimmer you so often associated with Asmo was gone.

The demon of lust took one last moment to recollect his thoughts, gathering back his composure before giving a loud horrified gasp of a breath before his knees gave out, his body collapsing to the floor.

“Absolutely, positively, one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made!” You’d beg to differ, there was a list of misadventures you could bring to the table, but now was definitely not the time for that. “Did you even think?!” You tried to open your mouth but were cut short. “Don’t answer that.” Good call. Lucifer looked beyond frazzled, and as you watched him pace back and forth in front of you, you wondered if those were new grey strands in the fringes of his hair or if it was simply your imagination. He’d been stepping back and forth for so long, you’d almost gotten dizzy from the motion. Perfectly on beat. A living pendulum.

But Lucifer wasn’t the only one here to…critique your…survival response--or questionable lack thereof. “What do you do when you see an angry demon? Hm?” Real rich coming from Wrath. Satan’s eyebrow was twitching, but he was doing his utmost best to stay calm unlike his older brothers.

You lowered your head. “You run.”

“What do we not do?”

“…Confront them.” The blonde nodded, leaving it at that for the time being. With a quick scan around the room, he tilted his head and sat in a chair, biting back one of his usual retorts. Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to be snippy, especially considering his sibling’s current behaviors, but he didn’t have the heart for it. Not right now when he was focusing hard on suppressing the bubbling rage of what he’d just observed. Levi was a dazed mess, sulking at his failed job as a bodyguard, slung over Beel’s shoulder, muttering endlessly. The demon of gluttony himself had yet to peel his sight from you since you’d been dragged back to your room. Had he even blinked? It was as if he was wary that, should he look away, even for a moment, you’d do something reckless again. To be fair, logically, what you’d done had been a rather idiotic move. In your defense, it was also dipping well past the early hours of the morning. It all still felt like a dream. They couldn’t hold it against you for not being at your peak… But, they were right. Had Asmo not been able to stop himself, who knows what the outcome would’ve been. You still weren’t quite sure of everything that had happened, but something had moved you, convinced you that if you just…reached out to him…

Turning your head to the side, you brushed your hand over the bump in the blankets where his arm was. As soon as he’d collapsed, both you and Asmo were briskly brought to your room. You’d been able to assist in tucking him under your covers for only a moment before being scolded six different ways. Belphie placed a fresh cold rag over Asmo’s forehead, meeting your eyes for just a second before snapping his head to look away from you with the slightest hint of a disappointed pout in his lips. Even the bratty youngest sibling was chastising you. And Mammon…Mammon was…dead silent, still as a stone, back turned to you as he pressed his face against the wall. If anything, that upset you the most.

Speaking loudly as to regain their attention, you apologized. “I’m sorry! I know it was dumb of me, but…” Asmo’s eyebrows scrunched, a painful moan rumbling in his throat. You adjusted your seated spot on the bed, sitting closer to his body, settled by his thigh. Placing your hand over the comforter covering his chest, you stroked up and down in a slow soothing rhythm. His head moved to find a cooler, more comfortable spot on the pillow, and with the comforting motion against his body, he went still with rest again. “He sounded heartbroken.”

The room fell silent, Lucifer stopped his pacing. Everyone’s shoulders slumped, and then finally Mammon spoke up. “Heartbroken?! That scream meant nothin’! He’s just being dramatic over his dumb face! Losing control like that…almost hurting you because he doesn’t look photo-ready… Nothing’s worth getting yourself killed over! Nothing!” Mammon’s words… sunk in the deepest. Or his tone did at least. He was truly upset with you. Lucifer raised his arm a bit towards Mammon, signaling to settle down. Mammon scoffed and turned again, letting it go.

“Okay… I get it… but enough worrying about me, you should be worried for your brother.” The fire of conflict was quickly snuffed out by your shining eyes and Asmo’s little whimpers.

Lucifer rolled his head around his shoulders and then rubbed away the little pang behind his temples. “I’ll go let Diavolo know of the situation. I’m sure after the last few weeks he won’t be surprised…” He grumbled something under his breath one last time before he left the room, D.D.D. in hand.

“I suppose I can do my best to help clean Asmo’s room. He might recover quicker in a familiar environment.” Satan got to his feet, stretching, cracking an eye open to look at Mammon before grabbing him by the back of his shirt. “And you’re going to help me.”

“O-oi! Why me?! Hold on! I haven’t said everything I needed to yet!” But his cries were ignored as the demon of wrath dragged him down the hallway.

Now you were left with the afflicted, the twins, and a still sorrowful Levi. They might not listen to you at the moment, but you had to try. “Beel, can you please take Levi to his room? And Belphie can you please make sure he goes to sleep?” The fiery-haired sibling nodded, shifting his older brother to his other shoulder. Belphie still had his head turned away from you. Your heart fell a bit. “Pretty please?”

He made the mistake of getting a quick peek of your pleading face. “You have to come with us.”

“But, we can’t just leave him.” You brushed the back of your hand against Asmo’s cheek, reeling back as the heat from him almost burnt you. Demonic bodies could reach some serious temperatures.

This only convinced Belphie to squint harder. “He’s dangerous.”

“You’re all dangerous and yet apparently it doesn’t seem to phase me anymore.” At times like these, you found standing your ground and just being stubborn was enough to win you plenty of debates with these eternal beings. Although you didn’t want to push your luck too much. They could physically remove you from the room if they so desired. Luckily, Belphie was much too tired to continue bickering.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

You beamed, coaxing a touch of pink in his cheeks. “Thank you!” He slinked away, his twin following after him with Levi in tow.

A frown stretched over your face. With the added noise gone, Asmo’s shallow wheezing breaths were all too apparent. You got to your feet, flipping the rag draped across his head to the other side, then padded over to the cupboard settled against the far side of the room. It opened with a slight squeak, causing you to wince as you glanced back over your shoulder to make sure your patient was still sleeping. Luckily, he didn’t stir, although for this to work, he might have to. You gripped the medicine bottle in your hand, giving it a slight shake. There was enough for perhaps one or two more administrations. Before you dealt with that issue, you quickly went to turn off the overhead light in your room, simply turning on a side lamp, a soft glow illuminating what you needed it to. Your eyes thanked you for the lessened strain. As you turned on the pads of your feet, you noticed Asmo was now on his side, facing away from you. With a few quiet steps, you were back at the bedside. “Asmo?”

Your fingers outstretched, reaching for his shoulder, but he would not let you near him. “Don’t look at me!” The voice was strong enough to push you back, falling back onto the floor. A high pitched noise caught your attention. The glass in your hand as well as your mirror on the other side of the room had a new thin crack in it.

The heart in your chest was pounding, but you tried to shake out of it. “Asmo, fighting me is taking up your strength.” Cradling the medicine bottle against your chest, you got back to your feet.

Asmo pulled the covers up over his head. “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me!” You’d shifted your stance beforehand to keep your balance, the wave of magic wobbling you, but not knocking you over. The lights flickered, and with it, you caught an idea.

“What if I turn the lights off? I won’t look at you, okay? I just want to help you feel better.” Keeping your sight on him, you walked backwards. As your hip met the furniture, you swiveled to turn the lamp off. It just so happened to be cloudy tonight, the dark clouds coating the moon, again, much like the night Belphie had sleepwalked into your room, only now you were the one stumbling towards the figure in the bed. You walked forward slowly until your knees came into contact with the mattress. Even here you could feel the rolling waves of heat come off of him. “I can’t see a single thing, I swear. Not even my own hand in front of my face,” you whispered to him, your arm waving in the air till you found his body. He was letting you touch him, that was a good sign. It took a moment before you found his shoulder, gently guiding him to lay on his back. You trailed your touch up to his neck before coming up to lightly touch his face. Hot moisture coated your fingertips. For a second, you thought it was sweat, but then you heard the demon take a shaky inhale as his body hitched. Panic struck your body all the sudden, your thumb brushing just under his eyes. “Are you crying? Asmo, no… No, no, no, it’s okay.”

He whimpered, leaning into your touch. “I- I- I- I’m sick and- and unsightly--”

“Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Take a deep breath.” He followed your advice, his chest shuddering. “I’m sorry you’re sick…but we can’t change that now. We just have to focus on getting you well again.” Reaching around to support the back of his head, you helped him up into a slouched position. Although, you struggled to find his hand. When you did, his fingers instinctively went to curl around yours. You hated to disappoint him by replacing your grasp with the medicine bottle. “This should help. I’d, uh, take about half of it.” He took it away from you, and you assumed that he’d brought it to his lips. It was a few seconds before the smooth glass touched your skin again. Taking it back in your possession, you discovered it was a lot lighter than you expected. Moving it around in your hand, you felt no liquid slosh inside. “I said half, Asmo!”

“There was hardly anything in there and I need what I can to go back to my beautiful self!”

“That’s not how--” You sighed, letting the empty bottle settle on the floor. “No one is pretty when they’re sick, but that’s okay. It’s alright to be unsightly sometimes.” The mattress bobbed as Asmo laid back down, getting as close as he could against your body. “But even so, you’re pretty all the same.”

His hand smacked against your knee as he tried to find you, his touch searching for yours. “I can’t be both…am I beautiful or ugly?” He really couldn’t understand what you were trying to say. Maybe one day you’d be able to convey your thoughts properly.

As soon as you touched his wrist, he slid his fingers up to weave through yours. “You’re always beautiful, Asmo. Always. A little sickness won't stop you. But for now, your beautiful body needs some beauty sleep.” You squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right by your side.” The medicine seemed to already be working. Double the dose meant double the drowsiness, and you pinned it in the back of your mind to tell Lucifer about his mishap later. He curled into a tighter ball, snuggling up against your legs.

“It’s not…fair,” he whined, voice almost slurring with sleep. “I don’t…deserve this…I wish I was…as beautiful…as you.” Your chest tightened, but you kept your mouth closed. His grip had already slackened, and you could hear the deeper slower breaths as you came to the conclusion that he had fallen back asleep.

Feel better, Asmo. I’ll be here till you do.

“I tried warning them fallen angels or not, they were still in the demographic to get sick.” Solomon sighed wistfully, but the whole time he never lost his smile. As you recounted your encounters over the last few weeks, the sorcerer giggled. “What I wouldn’t give to see some of those scenes.”

The angel across the little table from you had to agree, although he looked a lot more sympathetic to the brother’s plight than the human did. “I’m really glad they’re all feeling better though. I bet you’re enjoying your newfound freedom, aren’t you, MC?”

You settled down the mug against the tabletop, sitting back in your chair, basking in the ambiance of Purgatory Hall. The House of Lamentation really had been come to feel like your home, but a change of pace was so refreshing at times. The angel’s dorm was so much brighter, quieter. No shouting, no nagging, no chaos. You could sip on a warm beverage in peace. “It’s nice knowing they all feel better,” you stated, having to admit to yourself that your termination of demon-nurse was doing you some good. Retirement life was nice. “No more worries.”

Both men agreed, Simeon pleasantly humming to himself. “Still, you could’ve asked us to help out. I bet it was difficult looking after all of them.”

“Can’t be much different than usual, can it?” Solomon interjected, laughing to himself.

They both were right. But, it’s not like you had hated it. You all felt…closer now. They had allowed you to see a part of themselves no one else got to see. That made you feel special. But being able to kick your feet up and get some much needed sleep was what your doctor ordered. You picked your mug back up and finished the last of your drink. The warmth of it spread throughout your body, seeping down to your toes and fingertips.

When Simeon noticed your cup was empty, he stood, holding his hand out. “Here I can take that for you.” You didn’t really want to impose, but you were the guest, and it did feel nice being taken care of today. They’d pampered you nicely. Taking your jacket at the door, leading you to the living room where you were given sweets and treats handmade by Luke and Simeon. You got more comfortable on the couch and gave the angel a thankful nod. Simeon turned away from you and Solomon, his steps halted as a high-pitched squeak filled the room. “Oh, sorry.”

Your head tilted a bit. “Sorry for what?” Had he stepped on a loose floorboard?

Solomon held himself back a bit before clapping in a bit of glee. He seemed endlessly entertained. “Doesn’t Simeon have the most petite sneeze? Bless you.”

Simeon looked back over his shoulder, actually looking a bit embarrassed over it. “It’s quite a normal sneeze thank you…” He shot his roommate a little look before leaving the room. You watched him go, a sensation of familiarity bubbling up to your mind. This felt… no, it couldn’t be. You were over-thinking things. There was absolutely no way it was happening again. Nope. You would refuse fate itself. Simeon took good care of himself. You couldn’t assume every sneeze was a sign of illness.

There was no one left to get sick. The story was over! The series had come to an end! All wrapped up in a pretty bow and everything!

No one else needed a taste of medicine.

Or did they?…

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #sickfic

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akkaweo-akkaweo · 10 months

Text

Taste Test

Kim Jennie x Irene/Bae Joohyun x M!reader

Tags: threesome, blindfold, facesitting, edging(?)

WC: 4.5k

—————

Working at a bistro in Gangnam-gu had two quirks that didn't need explanation: first, the money, obviously; and second, the frequency of being around Korea's rich and famous. It's even come to a point where seeing awarded drama actresses or show hosts was less interesting than seeing some more interesting figures come by: chaebol hierarchs, mid-level politicians, and the like.

Tonight, the bistro is restless; busy, but not packed. And as you wait a table of some tech company management, you're called to the front to escort another set of customers.

"Hey, Table 27. You're assigned to Ms. Kim and Ms. Bae."

Those last names may be very vague at first glance, but you were all too familiar with this duo: K-pop royalty Jennie and Irene. This was not the first time you've breathed the same aromatic-filled air as them in this space, but in those times they had patronized the joint with different sets of guests. This would be the first time you spotted them together, much less served either of them.

Quickly adjusting your collar and trying to swallow the fanboy-sized lump in your throat, you meet them at the receptionist's area.

"Good evening, Ms. Bae, Ms. Kim. Please follow me to your table," you say, as rehearsed a thousand times by now. Nothing to freak out about. The two are busy with their respective phones, but are noticeably missing their usual entourage of managers and bodyguards. And as you lead them to a more secluded and closed off portion of the bistro, you catch them putting their phones away completely. You didn't think idols could be autonomous to this degree, but you set aside the thought as you pass menus to them.

"There's no need for that, dear, thank you," Jennie said with a smile. "I'll just have an espresso please."

"Right away, miss. And how about you?"

"Do you have any teas? Just a pot of whatever you have tonight," Irene replied.

You note their orders and head to your station. The location of the console where you prepare the coffee is just close enough to catch their conversation, but a glass divider mutes it enough that the clinking of spoons on ceramic distracts you away from it. Doesn't seem like anything particularly interesting though; both just seemed to be catching up from a break in their respective tour schedules.

Upon finishing their orders, you bring them over, with the usual pleasantries to exchange. "Is there anything else I can get you, miss?," you ask.

"If you don't mind me asking," Irene chimes in, "are you new here? I don't recall your face."

"Actually, I've been working here for almost a year, miss, maybe almost two," you respond. Staff normally aren't supposed to talk to customers so casually, but you decide that it wouldn't hurt to do otherwise being out of view from the rest of the crowd.

"So why here then? You have quite the face, why not anywhere else?," Jennie asks.

You try to charm your way out of an obligatory, potentially shameful monologue, saying "Well, short answer is, I do it for the money. Don't we all?"

The two giggle, and inside you're running a football victory lap for nailing a perfectly executed quip. You leave them to it and attend to other tables, but you swear you could catch them glancing at you time to time. They call you over a second time about thirty minutes later.

"Good evening again. Did you enjoy the drinks? Anything else I can get for you?," you say.

"It was great, I don't actually think I've tried the tea here. You have good taste," Irene replied., "but yes, we would like some dessert as well."

"Alright, what would you like?"

"How about you put that taste to the test and surprise us. We trust you," Jennie butted in, with a little smirk. While you would normally be fawning over the gesture, you also felt a growing fear of embarrassing yourself. You swallow the feeling, responding with a half lie, saying "I think I have just the thing."

You walk back slowly to the counter as you ponder on what the pair would like. After a few seconds, you had an idea: Jennie might like a light cream-based pastry, and Irene would probably prefer a sorbet or anything with fruit. You find the closest approximations in your menu and bring them over. To your relief, it seems you've delighted them once again.

"Spot on with the choices, I love it," said Jennie. "How about you Joohyun, what's your verdict?" Irene, however, seemed too busy savoring the treat. "Well, I guess that speaks for itself. Three points for you."

"Thank you, miss. I do believe that's all orders complete, anything else I can do for you?"

Irene, having finished her plate, replies, "How about the bill? We have some other plans tonight."

"Certainly, miss. Just a moment."

As you leave, you can overhear them bickering and exchanging whines and banter. Probably fighting over who pays, as is custom. By now the bistro is taking its last set of customers, so the discussion isn't as hard to overhear. As you return, though, it seems an agreement had been settled; you resolved to keep this interaction short to avoid getting told off.

"Here," Irene said as she handed back the holder. "Please hand this to your manager, there's special instructions for how to use the credit card in there. He'll know how to handle it."

"Of course miss. Thank you," you replied, walking to the cashier.

A part of you felt a bit sad that your interaction with the two was coming to an end. Nonetheless, work is work, and you call your manager.

"Sajangnim, I was told to hand this payment to you."

Your manager looked puzzled at first, but opened the receipt anyway, followed by a quick furrowing of brows. Was something wrong? You try not to overthink it, considering he processes the payment in a few moments. He hands you back the receipt, with the same half-puzzled, half-concerned look, adding, "Did you talk to the customers that much? Move to the front end when you're done with this."

Uh oh. Were you in trouble, for casual conversation no less? The struggle to not overthink is getting difficult at this point, but you have no choice but to stomp it down. As you reach the table, however, you notice the pair are missing already.

Panicked, you rush to the front end to ask your colleagues, and it turns out they were just about to ride their car. You rush out and call for them, hoping to return Irene's credit card before you cause a nationwide scandal.

"Miss! Please don't forget your credit card!," you call out.

The next 10 seconds are a blur. You reach the vehicle right as Irene steps in, and before you could try and call for her attention again, a cold hand grabs your wrist and pulls you inside the van. When your brain has processed the situation, you find yourself inside the black van, facing Irene and Jennie.

"I'll be taking that," Irene said, breaking the silence and swiping the credit card you were still holding in your hand. "You've been such a wonderful server tonight."

"That's why you're here with us," Jennie added. "Don't worry, your manager already knows. The whole credit card thing was a lie."

"Hey, it wasn't a complete lie. It's still a special credit card that I absolutely cannot afford to lose," Irene interjected. "Good thing we had you, right?"

The two started teasing each other, probably hinting that they both had a role to play in what just happened. You, on the other hand, are still evidently puzzled trying to process what had just happened.

"Relax. Consider this an early clock out," Jennie reassured. "Because you've been such nice company tonight, we have one last series of tests for you."

"How exactly is kidnapping me and testing me an act of gratitude?," you blurt. The shock starts to subside and you piece some things together, but try not to assume too much nor think too highly of yourself.

"I mean, would you like us to leave you back in there? You could go back to waiting tables, that's fine with us. But," Jennie pauses, placing a hand on your shoulder and leaning in a bit closer, "where's the fun in that?"

You pause for a second, looking straight into both idols' eyes for a few seconds. They looks seem as sincere as their words.

Without hesitation, you reply, "Well, if you trusted me, I'll trust you as well. Please take care of me."

Irene claps her hands before pulling out a black cloth. "Okay," she adds, "let's start with this."

~~~~~

Blindfolded, your ears are a little more sensitive than normal. In the 15 minutes you gave up your sense of sight, you got off the car, were escorted slowly and carefully by the duo across a bunch of corridors, and brought to what sounded like a medium-sized room (on account of how much their giggles seemed to fill the space easily).

You try to ask a question to gauge your surroundings. "Any chance this blindfold is coming off soon?," you ask.

Someone put their finger over your lips, replying, "Shh. Don't think about that just yet." The voice was a bit higher in pitch, maybe that was Irene? Seemed likely.

"So, are you ready for our little game?," a deeper voice asked. That must be Jennie then. "We're not gonna stop you from saying no." The aforementioned sensitive hearing was most obvious as you felt two different breaths whistle from each side of your face.

Nervously, you try and crack a joke. "Hey, as long as neither of you are serial killers, I think I'll be fine."

"Like I said," the deeper voice chuckled, "you're way too cute to be a waiter." Suddenly, a pair of lips peck yours. Now, your sense of hearing might be a bit stronger, but trying to identify a pair of lips from a kiss? That would almost be a superpower — one you wished you had as a softer voice started to talk.

"I guess that's your first test then. If you can successfully guess which one of us is kissing you three times in a row, you get a step closer to removing the blindfold."

Before you could interject with a "But that's impossible!," another pair of lips meet yours, this time kissing you deeper than the last. After a few seconds, you're asked, "so who do you think that was?"

You took a second to try and think, but the mere shock of what happened in the past few minutes alone blinded your intuition even more than the cloth over your eyes. You take a shot in the dark. "Uhh... Irene?"

"Nope. Try again."

Another pair of lips, this time her tongue meeting yours. They feel a bit less plump this time, and after the kiss ends, you're asked the same question. "What's your guess this time?"

"No, that's Irene. I'm sure."

"Please," a different voice replied, "just call me Joohyun. And yes, that was me. Two more guesses to go."

Another pair of lips meets your cheeks, moving down your neck. The sensation shocks you too much to make a more educated guess other than "I think that was Jennie?"

"Oops, guess you're back to square one," a voice taunted. You couldn't explain it, but the two voices started to match each other, yet were somewhat distinguishable. You could tell the one who just spoke was Jennie, so maybe it was Irene that time?

The test proved to be much harder than you thought. The two alternated between light pecks all over your face and neck, deep make outs, or some mix of both. At different points, their kisses sank deep into your skin, causing you to tremble and moan. And for every instance of that or any wrong answers, a couple of giggles follow. It was never actually long enough to catch any hints right away, but about 6 tries later, you actually make it to a second correct answer: you figure that Jennie tends to be a little bit more aggressive, while Irene was softer, but still playful.

"Last chance," Irene taunted. "Ready?" You give a simple nod.

This round's pair of lips go straight for your neck, but move lower to your collarbones as your dress shitt is slowly unbuttoned off you and exposing a bit more of your upper chest, at least what wasn't covered by any undergarments. Without warning, a second pair of lips meets yours, and starts making out with you. Fuck, both of them at the same time? Did they even want to do anything else except play with you?

Both lips stop at the same time, and Jennie asks, "So, who kissed you that last time?," which threw you off guard. You tried to give it serious thought, trying to think of whose lips you felt on your chest.

With a bit of hesitation, you reply, "That was Joohyun. Jennie was the one all over me."

A short bit of silence freaked you out, before being broken by Jennie. "Finally. We thought we'd have to let you go too soon."

"How about you show us how you kiss this time?," Irene says, as she grabs one of your hands and places it on her cheek. You try to hold back, scared of shocking the delicate woman, but another hand – Jennie's – turns your head the other way. "Don't hesitate. You're good," she adds.

They take turns guiding your hands to their cheeks, to signal whose turn it was to have a taste of you. After a few turns, both of them start working your undershirt off you, taking turns on your chest and neck. You weren't the most buff, but you could feel their soft lips cover you little by little. The past however-long-it's-been of teasing has most definitely gotten you hard. A hand glides over your groin ever so slightly, which is enough confirmation for them to continue.

Jennie giggles, breaking the silence. "Looks like you're ready for the second test."

"What makes you say that?," you reply nervously, your breath still rushed.

A hand guides you to what felt like someone's shoulder, down to their chest. You feel a soft handful of skin and cloth fit into your palm; instinctively, you squeeze, and you hear a soft, low moan. That's what that was. When did they even remove their dresses?

"I see you get the idea," said Jennie. "Same thing: three consecutive tries to guess who you're touching, and this time we'll actually remove your blindfold."

"Feel free to do whatever you want to figure it out," Irene added. "You're doing great."

This time, your other hand is guided to a bigger, softer handful. You guess Jennie, and you're correct. The second time however, your hand touches something warm, and your fingers are squeezed tightly inside wherever it currently is. You try to feel around, and you hear a louder moan just as deep as the last.

"Was that still Jennie?," you try and guess.

A voice whispers in your ear, "Nope. But that was good." Irene.

Just like last time, the two take turns having you touch their breasts or through their panties. You never realized how similar their bodies were; with every guess, each groin you touch is hotter and wetter, each nipple poking into your palm more sharply than last. It takes you less tries this time to get to two in a row, about 4, and by then the room felt much hotter – or perhaps it was just you, extremely flustered by the nonstop moaning in your ears that most definitely left you a little bit wet as well.

"Okay," Jennie huffed, since she was the last one you touched. "Another twist."

You feel your pants finally come off slowly, and both of them sit on either one of your thighs, slowly rubbing themselves against your legs. Their hands make their way all over your back and your neck, and you try to respond by reaching out for both their chests to play with their tits. Their moans are a bit too similar now, both louder than before.

You try to even the playing field by trying to remove their bras, and making your way to suck on their nipples. Whoever you were doing that to, their moans got louder. You could feel Irene's more toned body and firmer breasts on your left, paired with a deeper, more throaty moans. To your right, Jennie's higher pitched moaning matched her softer features pressing on you: her thighs, her breast, her arms grasping you.

Struggling to get a word in from the overwhelming amount of pressure, you gasp, "It's... Irene... I mean Joohyun... on my left, and... Jennie on the right."

Moans turn into pleased giggles. "Fuck, you're good," Jennie said under her breath. A pair of arms wrapped around your head, and you could feel the blindfold come off.

After being glared by the single lamp in the room, you can see both idols in full view: both their dresses and bras on the floor, and a pair of frazzled heads of hair and deep lustful gazes staring back at you. You proceed to take turns making out with them again, as you try and stand up to get them off. You find a bed right behind you, and you take them there.

Jennie and Irene are now both spread out on the bed, each trying to catch their breath. "You took care of me, how about I take care of you next?," you said.

You slowly work the panties off Irene, and Jennie sits up to kiss your chest. Irene comes in with a kiss to Jennie's lips, distracting her enough from you to get her panties off next.

"Don't worry, you'll definitely get to do that for this last test," Irene replied.

"Haven't I proven myself enough, miss?," you respond sarcastically.

"Not with tongue of yours, you haven't," Jennie added. "Here's the deal: one last round of being blindfolded. Three correct answers, not consecutive this time. Just three."

"The catch?"

"Just guess who's tasting you," cooed Irene.

"And the reward?"

"I think you know that already," Jennie teased.

Any sense of inhibition has left you at this point. "Surprise me," you reply.

Jennie grabs the blindfold from the floor and places it over your eyes once more. "One last thing," she adds, "if you cum, you lose."

Once more, before you could muster a "Wait, what?", you're pushed down on the bed and a different pair of lips meet yours.

Jennie's warning makes much more sense when you feel two pairs of lips start to work on your dick. Just the sensation alone of both of them working their tongues along its length, giving it light kisses and occasional licks, was enough to get you throbbing.

The pussy on your face is warm and wet, and you feel your cheeks and chin drenched. Every entry of your tongue deeper into it brings out a moan, which while being sucked off brings more pleasure-filled vibrations down to your base. The challenge is getting the one you're licking to make a recognizable sound, but your own stimulation makes it hard to focus. You catch a lucky break however, and you hear Irene's moan with a flick of her clit. "That was Joohyun!," you rush to say, trying to get the two to give you a break.

"Good job," Irene replied. "Two to go!"

You can feel the pair getting off the bed and walking around, likely to throw you off from assuming they'd just switch places. Your face gets sat on once again, while someone rides your thigh like last time. This time, a pair of hands meet at your cock, taking turns to stroke either head or shaft. You could hear their moans, but this time it seems they were making out with each other, because they seemed to be coming from the same area. You reach ever closer to the edge, and you try to focus on the pussy you have to taste. However, you don't find anything in particular to make an educated guess, so you blurt, "Is that Jennie?"

"Nope," she replied, with a light tap to your dick, as if to mock you. "Though Joohyun here is loving all the attention."

The girls get off the bed again, and you notice the one sitting on you this time is facing the other way. No one is at your dick fortunately, but you can hear Joohyun moaning. Something does feel different however, from the taste of the fluids drenching your face to Irene's moans sound a bit too distant. You weren't sure however, so you kept going for a few minutes (to also catch your breath), and you notice Joohyun's moans didn't match your pace. You make a guess again. "This is Jennie."

She lets out a deep gasp, as if she was trying to hold everything in. "That's two," she adds.

"One last," Irene chirps. Same routine, but this time it's back to facing the other direction, while another starts grinding along the length of your dick without getting it in. This was the toughest one yet: not only were the moans muffled with them making out with each other, or simply being right up on each other's faces, but whoever was grinding you was really good at it. You feel yourself ready to burst any minute, so you try to fixate on anything: the direction of the moans, the taste of the squirt, now mixed with sweat, anything. No dice, not for the two longest minutes of your life.

Desperate to not lose, you beg, "Let me guess!," hoping to buy time.

"Go," Jennie gasped.

"Hurry... please..." Joohyun added.

The synchronicity of their moans alone was testing your resolve to the fullest. But you think you've got it, from the taste on your tongue to the way your face was ground on.

"Fuck, get off Jennie! It's Joohyun on my face!," you plead, as you feel cum start to well up inside you.

The two get off the bed, and you remove the blindfold yourself. You're all heaving and gasping for air. You check to see who's closest to you: it was Irene, and Jennie, facing you from the farther end of the bed, looks at you. She stares for a few seconds – her eyes were incredibly seductive – and gives a smirk.

"Looks like... you won. You're good," she said.

Joohyun adjusts to meet your eyes as well. "Guess I guessed right when I said you'd be great in bed," she added.

You look up, staring at the ceiling, still dumbfounded at everything that's happened in the past... hour? Two? You've lost track. But you felt the two women crawl closer to you on both sides, starting to make light, tender kisses all over your neck and chest.

"We're sorry if we went too hard on you," Joohyun said. "We don't usually last this long with anyone... and we certainly don't feel as good as with you."

"Too good to be just wait staff," Jennie repeated. "But, I guess it's time for us to serve you then."

Their hands make their way down to your dick again, stroking it at the right spots to give you chills, but light enough to not bring you too close to the edge. They seem much more experienced than you thought – probably since they were a bit older than you as well.

"You can do whatever you want with us now. No more tests," Irene whispered in your ear.

"This is the best aftercare of my life," you joke.

Jennie giggles by your other ear. "How can you still make jokes?," she sighs, before locking her lips with her yours. Irene meets both of you in the middle, and the three of you take turns kissing each other, occasionally meeting all three tongues in the middle.

The two split away from your face and make out with each other, and you sit yourself up to watch them turn their backs to you as they flash their pussies in front of you. You don't see their faces, but you feel them start to work their mouths over your dick again, slow and steady but enough to lubricate your whole length, bottom to top.

You take advantage of your position, and moving up the bed to lean on the headrest, you play with their clits, much more properly now that you can actually see what your doing. Their light moans were enough assurance you were doing the right thing, doing the same process of sending waves of pleasure all over you.

You don't hesitate to try and please them more, moving between using two fingers and going back to rubbing their clits. The moans intensify; Jennie's moans turn into high pitched screams, and Irene's turn into chest-deep heaves.

Joohyun, unsurprisingly, is the first to buckle. "Fuck! I'm gonna...," she trails off, before holding her breath letting it all out in a single squeal. You can feel her cum all over your fingers, coating it thick.

"Please," Jennie begged, "me too." You oblige, and you use a third finger to try to stimulate her. Fortunately, it was enough to send her body trembling, and a bit of her juices sprayed out and all over your arm and the bed.

Both ladies catch their breaths before turning to face you, and resume blowing you, with a last wind of effort to try and fish out an orgasm from you. They take you in their mouths all the way, and you throw your head back, inching closer to actual release.

"I'm gonna cum," you try and warn them, but the pair stare at you while they do their deed, resolved to make you finish. They clasp their hands together with your dick in between and start stroking you fast. You find yourself moaning to a backdrop of Irene and Jennie begging for your cum, and before you know it, you burst all over their hands and faces.

They seemed to have fun licking each other up right after, sucking on each others' fingers and exchanging kisses to suck up any stray strings. They have quite the bond, managing to giggle and tease even after such a tiring night, up until they lie down by your sides once more.

"So," you break the silence again. "Did I pass your tests?"

Irene puts a hand over your chest. "With flying colors."

Jennie, however, props herself up on an elbow. "Though, I think I'll be visiting that bistro more often. Just to see if you've still got it," she added with a wink.

"Is that a challenge?," you tease.

"Sure," Irene replied, "if you don't mind us upping the difficulty."

"Well," you said, thinking hard about your answer for a few seconds.

"Then what can I do for you, miss?"

—————

A/N: much longer than my usual, and honestly a bit fun to write. hope it didn't drive you crazy with the length, though i'm pretty sure there's longer here.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #red velvet smut #irene smut #blackpink smut #jennie smut #male reader

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pedros-frozen-pizza · 28 days

Text

Don't Tell Sarah

Pairing: fem!reader x no outbreak!joel miller

Description: You're visiting family on your spring break when you make an unexpected reunion with your best friend's dad, Joel.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post is 18+

No outbreak, age gap (reader in early 20's, Joel in early 50's), unprotected p in v, pet names (no use of y/n), fingering, cream pie, squirting

Word Count: 3k

As your plane lands, you quickly switch your phone off of airplane mode to check your texts. Your brother is supposed to pick you up, but he always forgets these things.

‘Are you here??’, you quickly text him as you start to gather your belongings.

Before you stand up, you remember to text your best friend and roommate, Sarah, that you've made it safely.

You make your way off the plane and into the terminal to head towards baggage claim. When you finally exit the airport, you see him, your brother who you haven't seen in months. He somehow grew a beard.

“Jeez, took you long enough to get out here,” he pokes. “They made me move my car twice.” You give him a quick side hug before he takes your bag and loads it into his trunk.

The drive was long, between the Austin Airport and your childhood home, but it was nice to catch up on all the family drama you missed while away at college. It's your junior year, and this is the first time you've come back to see your family. Most of your classmates are on beaches in Miami, or taking breaks in Italy, but this is how you chose to spend your spring break.

A text from Sarah snaps you away from the conversation.

‘So glad you're safe! When you have time, don't forget to bring that gift to my dad!’

You already almost forgot. Sarah had crafted a mug for her father, detailed with a large owl on the side of it. She was a talented artist, and was excited to gift this to her father when she saw him next. Unfortunately, she had to stay behind this time to finish up a project for her internship.

‘I'll make sure he gets it!’ you type back and set your phone down.

It had been years since you had seen Joel. You grew up with Sarah as your best friend, with many late nights at her house. It'll be good to see him again. Just as good as seeing your own family even.

You make it back to your family's house and exchange greetings with your parents. Your mom has planned out your entire week while you're there. Sunday brunch, dinner with extended family on Tuesday, and so forth. It'll be good to reconnect and spend time together after being apart for so long.

Monday rolls around, and your mom only had plans for the morning. It was getting to be late in the afternoon when you decide to head over to Joel's.

“Can I borrow your car?” you ask your brother. “I have to go bring a gift over to Joel from Sarah.”

He shrugs and throws the keys to you. “Don't wreck it,” he jokes as you head out the door.

Joel's house wasn't far from your family's, but with rush hour starting, the traffic was awful. When you finally make it, you find yourself nervously walking up the steps. You've never felt this flustered around him before. Perhaps it's just that it's been so long? That must be it.

You knock a few times before he answers.

“No! Is that really you?” he exclaims when the door finally opens. “Sarah said you'd be by this week, and I'm so glad she was right! Look how beautiful you are.” He gives your body a quick scan, but you can't quite tell his intentions with it. His hair had grayed out a bit, but otherwise really has not aged at all since you last saw him.

“I just got off work and was about to shower,” he starts. “But if you want to come have a seat, I'll just be 10 minutes.”

You make your way into their front sitting room. Everything is exactly as you remember it from your childhood. Sure, he's gotten new furniture, but the pictures and decorations are exactly as Sarah had left them.

He walks back down the stairs with a clean pair of jeans and a dark gray t shirt on. His hair messy from a quick towel dry, and his scent strong from his woodsy cologne, you forget for a split second that he's your friend's dad; no having thoughts like this about him!

“You want some coffee?” He gestures towards the kitchen.

Of course, how did you already forget what you were here for? “Coffee sounds great!” You follow him into the kitchen. “Actually, I'm here because I have a gift from Sarah for you.” You beam, and pull the box holding the mug from your bag. “She made it and was really excited for you to have it.”

He opens the box and pulls out the hand-crafted mug. “That girl,” he starts, but trails off. He smiles as he turns it around in his hands, almost as if he's inspecting every angle. “We should get her on the phone.” He states after a moment.

You pull out your phone and dial her number to video chat. “Guess what?” you ask, quizitively when she answers. “He loves it!” You face the phone over to him. The three of you talk for a while, sipping cup after cup of coffee until it's nearly dark outside.

“Well,” you sigh. “I shouldn't keep you any longer.” You start to get your bag.

“It has gotten pretty late,” Joel shrugs. “Did you want to stay for dinner? Since it's late, I was thinking I'd just order delivery.”

You take a moment to actually consider, before deciding to stay. You quickly text your mom. ‘Hey I'm staying for dinner at Joel's. I'll be back later tonight :)’

After a few moments, he sets down his phone and says, “Well, delivery said it'll be here in 45 minutes. Wanna watch a movie?”

You nod and follow into the living room. He puts on some action movie. You haven't seen it before, but it seems extremely predictable in what will happen next. As the movie goes on, you find yourself inching closer to him. When you're close enough, you lean your head on his shoulder. He jolts a little at this motion, and turns slightly to face you. You have know idea what's gotten into you, you've never had feelings like this towards Joel. He just… the way he looked over you when you first got here, and how fresh he was after the shower. Ugh, and how he smells now. You can hardly contain yourself. You lean your face towards him and to your surprise, he does the same. Before you even have the chance to think, you kiss him. You jump back a little bit, and lock into the most uncertain eye contact you've ever experienced.

You start to stutter. “I don't… I didn't… I… I’m sorry, I didnt…” But before you can get any real sentence out, he kisses you again. This time with more passion. You kiss him back, and don't stop this time. Your tongue slides into his mouth, and his into yours. He tastes so good. At this, you decide to swing yourself up onto his lap, straddling his legs. Oh God, he’s so hard. Without even questioning what sort of boundaries should be in place, you start to grind down on him just ever so slightly.

“Fuck,” he whispers, then let's out a grown. He grabs both sides of your waist and gently bucks his hips up into you. He slows down after this, pulls back, and whispers, “Are you okay with this? I don't want to cross any boundaries.”

Oh God, what would Sarah think? Never mind about her right now. “Yes,” you breathe out, nodding your head. “Yes, please Joel,” you manage to get out before starting to slowly grind on him again.

He feels his way up and down your body. Grazing your back with his palms, circling around to grip onto your waist, neck and, jaw at times. After a moment of this, you guide his hand up under your shirt, and slip it off over your head. He plays around with your tits through your bra, before reaching around and unclasping it in the back. You're sooo glad you matched your bra with your thong today. He groans at the sight of your newly freed tits, your nipples hard against the cool air. He pinches them first before going immediately to suck on them. He sucks and pinches and bites until each breast has been thoroughly loved. Still grinding on his hard dick through his jeans, you reach your hand down and ask, “Can I take this out, Joel?”.

He considers for just a moment before nodding. “You sure you want this baby?” he asks, genuinely.

“Yes Joel, fuck, I want it so bad,” you manage to stutter out.

“Okay baby girl, I’ll give you this dick, but there's only one rule.” he stops completely, waiting for your full attention. “You don’t ever tell Sarah.”

Fuck, you have to stop thinking about Sarah. She can't know, it would break her. You nod your head, “I promise, I won't tell her,” you whine. He grabs onto your hair at the back of your head, and pulls you down closer to his face.

“Say, ‘I promise Sarah will never find out about this, Joel’” he says into your ear. You repeat the words back to him. “Good girl,” he spits out before letting go of you.

He kisses you again, more sloppy this time, and slowly starts to un-button his jeans. Your hands immediately go to help, and you finally get a feel of his hard cock. It’s so fucking huge, so thick and long. You pull it out completely and immediately start feeling it up and down.

“Hm-mm,” he shakes his head. “You take these off first.” He gestures to the leggings you had thrown on to come over here. You oblige, remove yourself from his lap, and hook your thumbs into your own waistband. You slowly slide them down until they reach your ankles, and kick them off to the side. You stand there for a moment, Joel observing you, the only light from the movie still playing behind you. “Turn around for me,” he commands. As soon as you do so, he grabs onto your ass, gently squeezing, then pulls you in closer to him. He kisses your ass cheeks, then your thighs, then wraps his arm around your waist and slowly goes to feel your mound. His large hand gives it a squeeze before yanking your thong down until it falls to the floor.

“You're such a little slut,” he let's out a short laugh. “Really gonna let your best friend's dad fuck you.”

You giggle slightly at this, but really, he needs to stop reminding you that he's Sarah's dad. She would kill you if she ever found out. “Joooel,” you playfully groan. At this, he slaps your ass, hard. You jolt a little bit, but allow him to continue. He wraps his arm around the front of you again, hand going straight to your cunt. He sits on the edge of the couch, holding you close to him. His finger slides up and down your folds, making you jump when he grazes over your clit.

“You like that, do you?” he teases.

You nod your head aggressively and let out a quick “mm-hmmm, give me more Joel.”

“Oh I'll give you more,” he says with a tone you've never heard in his voice. He sounds possessive, so dominant. He starts circling around your clit with his fingers. “Fuck, I love your wet pussy,” he groans. “Let me taste it.”

He doesn't wait for you to give any permission before he spins you around and immediately starts licking through your folds. Kissing and sucking on your clit, and moving down to fuck you with his tongue. Fuck, it feels so good. You start to have a hard time standing up. Your vision starts to blur, fuck, you're so close to finishing. “Fuck… Joel!” You moan loudly, unable to contain yourself. “I'm gonna… I'm!” But before you can come, he completely lets off of you and pulls you down to straddle his lap again. “Fuck” you scream. You were so fucking close.

“Not yet, baby girl,” he jides. “Not yet, not till I say you can.” He let's out a devilish laugh at you.

Before you can even protest, he slides two fingers up into you. He slides them in and out several times before going right to your spongy G spot. He plays around for a moment before finally saying “Now you're gonna ride my dick baby, you got it? Be a good girl for daddy?”

You moan and nod your head. He pulls his fingers out of you and lifts up his massive cock. Lining it up to your entrance for you, you smash down hard onto it. Lifting yourself and slamming down again, over and over. Your cunt takes every inch of him, like it was made just to fit. You start to move faster and faster on his dick, until you're basically twerking with it inside you.

“Yessss,” he hisses out. “Yes baby, fuck, your tight little pussy feels so- ah, so good on my fat. cock.” Suddenly he holds onto your hips, pulling you down and making it hard to keep going. Now you get it, he's trying to edge himself too. With you now sitting still, but his dick still inside you, he decides to pay attention to your throbbing cunt. He takes a finger first and rubs gentle circles around your clit. Listening to your soft moans and whimpers, he starts whispering in your ear.

“Yes that's a good girl,bbaby. Love when I play with you like that, huh? Your wet little cunt so tight around my dick.” This is all you need. His fingers speed up on your clit, and he bucks his hips up ever so slightly. He keeps whispering those sweet words into your ear until finally, “Come for me baby. Come all over this big cock.”

You let out a moan at this. “Fuck daddy, I'm so. fucking. close.” you let out with a shriek. His fingers working you over so quick on your clit. “Fuck I'm gonna-” your words break off. You squeeze your eyes shut, and can only hear the blood rushing through your ears. You don't know if you scream, or curse, or moan. All you know is that you completely shatter. Your cum bursts out, encasing his entire dick in the thick liquid.

When you finally regain your senses, you make a quick eye contact with Joel. “How was that baby?” he asks, with just a touch of shyness. “Do you think you could keep going?”

Fuck, absolutely you could keep going. You need him to come inside you. You need it so bad.

You nod your head aggressively at him. “Please. Please keep going Joel.” He gives you several long kisses before weaving his arms around you, and flipping you so that you're on all fours on the sofa. After a moment of him admiring your body, every shape and curve, he sticks a few fingers into your hole, feeling his way around before abruptly removing them. He lines up his cock again and slowly slides it in. He does this several times before picking up his pace. A low groan escapes his mouth.

“Can't believe I'm fucking this tight little pussy. So- tight around my cock,” he says, breathlessly before letting out another groan. “Wanna- come inside it baby. Can I fill you up with daddy’s cum?”

You moan. “Fuck yes, come inside me daddy,” you whine. “Fill me up, give it all to me.” You're seconds from coming again when he decides to pick up the pace even further. His pelvis slamming into your ass, and balls coming up to graze against your clit are enough to make you go insane. You're moaning now with every thrust, his calloused fingers holding tighter and tighter onto your hips.

Suddenly, you feel your walls clamp down onto him, and you come again. This time your heat spreading all over the front of him and down onto the couch. Still in your euphoric state, you hear him shout “fuck!”, before completely unraveling inside you. His hot ropes of cum pumping inside of you, being forced further and further up. He finishes completely and pulls out slowly.

“Here, let me go get a towel for you,” he says, but before he can get the chance to move, you sit up and catch the cum that drips out of your entrance. You want the rest to stay in you, as a reminder for the rest of the night. You teasingly bring your fingers up to your mouth and suck each of them clean. His mouth opens slightly, and once you've swallowed all of it down, he gives you several long, passionate kisses.

“You're so sexy,” he says quietly, still observing your every move.

“Can we do this again before I leave?” you ask.

“Ahh baby girl, yes of course we can. Just don't tell Sarah,” he gives a wink at the end of this thought.

The two of you eat your dinner, which had been sitting on the porch for some time. Apparently the driver knocked a while ago, and you didn't even hear it. Once finished, you say your goodbyes and head back to your family's house.

“Jee, what took you all night?” your brother prods when you enter the front door.

“We just were on video call with Sarah and got carried away,” you say with a teasing look.

“Oh that's a relief, I was starting to think you two were fucking,” he jokingly wipes sweat off his forehead.

You flip him off as you walk to your old bedroom to start getting ready to shower. He has no idea how right he is. You look down at your phone and see a text from Sarah. You curse to yourself before reading.

Hey thanks again for making that visit to my dad. I know he’s been a little lonely without me there so I bet he really appreciates the company. Love you girl. ‘Don't tell Sarah,’ you think to yourself over and over again. She can never find out about this.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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gingiesworld · 8 months

Text

New Sheriff in Town

Requested by @louxbloom

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader/ Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda and Vision were high school sweethearts, everything seemed perfect until she fell pregnant before graduating. Vision proposed to her as soon as he found out which Wanda had said yes.

It all seemed fairytale like as the years went on, Wanda being the stay at home mom as Vision went to work with his uncle at Stark Industries to provide for his family. As much as Wanda loved being a mom to her sons, she hated being home alone. Living the same day, same routine over and over again.

As the years went on, Vision had started to treat Wanda as a maid and not his wife, the twins soon caught on and started to treat her the same as their father did. As much as it broke Wanda's heart, she couldn't leave. Even though her friend's Natasha and Agatha would tell her otherwise. She had an obligation to be there for her family. That is what she was taught the perfect wife was.

That was until Vision had handed her divorce papers as he packed his things. Leaving her to raise two teen boys as he moved in with the 20 year old twinkie in the city. The twins had blamed Wanda for him leaving and never really cut her any slack. Wanda would also find herself crying herself to sleep every night. Wondering at what point her life had took a turn.

But with two 15 year old boys, running amuck throughout Westview. Especially being just as entitled as their father, always causing noise and destruction wherever they go. Only to be yelled at by Wanda before the two would make her cry.

A new resident had moved in ane joined the local Sheriff's department. Well they were the new Sheriff. When they saw the two yelling at Wanda, blaming her for their father not wanting anything to do with them.

"Hey!" Their voice boomed, causing the three to look in their direction. "I suggest you boys show your mother some respect."

"What are you going to do about it?" Tommy sneered as the twins crossed their arms across their chests.

"If I catch you boys doing anything out of line, I can have you arrested." They told them sternly.

"What? You gonna call the police?" Billy teased as Tommy laughed. They sighed as they got their badge out.

"I am the new Sheriff so I suggest you start to respect your mom." They told the two sternly. "Also, if I catch either of you vandalising any property, that includes your mom's house, I will put you in handcuffs. Do you understand me?" The two just nodded before walking inside as Wanda approached Y/N.

"Thank you. I'm Wanda." She introduced herself.

"Y/N." They shook her hand. "Well it was nice to meet you but I have to get to the station." Wanda waved nervously as she watched them walk away.

As the time went on, Y/N had found Tommy drinking in the park. So they approached him with a soft smile on their face.

"Hey, you're Wanda's son right?" They questioned as Tommy just scoffed before having another big sip. "You know you can talk to me."

"About what?!" Tommy spat. "How my dad left us and we've blamed mom all the time for it. Especially seeing him with his new wife and kid."

"Listen, I understand how hard it can be to have a parent give up on you." They told him. "But your mom is still here. She is still looking after you and your brother. You just need to give her a chance. It isn't her fault your dad quit on you guys. That's all on him so please just cut her some slack. Talk with Billy too. She deserves better than the crap you two have given her."

"I'm sorry." Tommy cried as Y/N put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Save that apology for your mom and do it sober." They told him before standing up. "Come on, I'll give you a ride home." That was the first time that Tommy had felt extremely bad for how he had treated his mom. He hated himself and he hated his dad.

Once Y/N had pulled up outside of the Maximoff residence, Wanda came running out, worry etched onto her features as Y/N helped Tommy out of the car.

"Is he ok?" She asked them as they helped him inside.

"He's just drunk." They told her when they lay him on the sofa to sleep. "He's going to have one killer headache in the morning."

"Thank you." Wanda told them sincerely as she walked them out.

"It's no problem. They have been served a bad hand. The three of you have." Y/N told her softly as she smiled. "I will help keep my eye on them outside of these walls but the rest is on you Maximoff." They told her as she nodded. Watching as they left once more, this time admiring their form in their uniform.

As the time went on, the twins were better than before with Wanda. Doing chores without being asked and even making her drinks.

"I honestly don't know what has happened but it feels like something out of a horror movie." She whispered to Nat as the two stood on the porch, watching the twins mow the lawn and wash the car.

"I know what you mean. It's kind of like an alien invasion." She replied as Wanda nodded. It wasn't until they saw Y/N doing their rounds. Wanda noted that they weren't in their uniform as they stopped and spoke with the twins. "Or maybe a new person has something to do with it." Nat soon noticed how Wanda was silent as she watched Y/N and the boys laugh about something. "You like them." Nat pointed out as Wanda snapped her head in her friend's direction.

"No." She laughed as Nat smirked.

"Yes you do." She told her. "It's ok to want to move on Wanda."

"I know that but the twins have just stopped hating me." She told her. "If I change something it could ruin it."

As the year went on, Wanda had organised a BBQ for the twins birthday. Inviting their friends and family, Y/N had come with some gifts for the twins. Tickets to see their favourite team play the next game. It wasn't until Vision walked inside like he still owned the house.

"Vision? What are you doing here?" Wanda questioned as Vision smirked.

"I came to wish my boys a happy birthday and give them their present." He said as he waved a set of keys in her face.

"Please leave." She spoke shakily as the twins soon noticed the commotion. Y/N's gaze followed theirs as they soon moved to Wanda.

"She said to leave." Tommy stated as he stood beside Wanda.

"You will speak to your father with respect." He spat at him angrily.

"When you see him, let me know." Tommy smirked as Billy held his mom as she cried. All of her anger, pain and sadness coming back ten fold. It was when Vision was about the back hand Tommy across the face Y/N had stepped in.

"I suggest you leave." They told him as they gripped his wrist tightly.

"Fuck you." Vision spat before taking a swing at Tommy with his other hand. Y/N getting in the way and receiving a jab to the jaw.

"I won't ask again." They snarled as they towered over him. "Leave now or I'll have you arrested for trespassing."

"Whatever." He snarled before turning on his heels and leaving the house. Y/N soon got on their phone to a locksmith.

"The locksmith is coming tomorrow." They told Wanda who soon wrapped her arms around them. They were shocked at the action but reciprocated the hug regardless.

"Thank you." Wanda whispered before she kissed their cheek. The party continuing as Vision had never came. The twins barely left Wanda's side as everyone soon started to leave.

"Y/N." Wanda called out before Y/N got into their car.

"Are you ok?" They asked her as she nodded, not expecting her to wrap her arms around their neck and kissed them passionately. Y/N sunk into the kiss as she deepened it. When she pulled away, they watched dumbfounded as she walked back inside. A smile on her lips.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

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togglesbloggle · 1 month

Text

In Defense of Bad Things

'Bad' here meaning mostly 'amateur'; stuff made enthusiastically by people at an unprofessional level. Art with visible gaps between what the artist imagined and what they achieved, products of flawed craftsmanship. I suppose everybody can appreciate them to some extent, it's a rare parent that doesn't put up their kid's drawings on the fridge in one way or another. But it turns out to be a fully general skill you can cultivate, and the more I do, the more I'm glad I did.

Partly, it's the teacher thing; finding delight in amateur work is one of the ways to find delight in the process of learning. Cultivating a love of striving-qua-striving can help make you a force for good in the world, as people start to feel safe trying to do things when you're around, even when their efforts are wobbly. You get to participate a little more in the process of atoms spinning themselves into ideas, even when there aren't any illusions about whether you're helping cultivate some revolutionary genius in the field.

And partly it's a fabulous way to build community. By necessity, our professional-level skills tend to be at the service of other people, performed for economic benefit; that's kind of how you get professionally good at something in the first place. When we're acting for our own sake, and among friends, most of what we do with one another is amateurish. I only cook middling-okay, I can't hold a tune that well, I'll never be a speed runner for anything. If you can only enjoy singing from the hundred best singers in the whole world, manufactured and polished by major studios, then you and your friends will sit shoulder-to-shoulder and passively listen to music. But it's so much richer an experience to sit face-to-face, actually singing together, even badly; you expose yourself to so many new ways to appreciate and respect one another, building relationships on what you've accomplished and not just by witty criticism or liking the same things.

And partly it's because some of the most powerful and innovative artistic experiences are in high-churn environments with low expectations and low barriers to entry, if only because those catch the passionate and driven young people that have been otherwise overlooked by our systems. The golden age of webcomics meant that a ton of the actual art involved was pretty lousy, but it also produced work that people still talk about today. D&D began as a profoundly unpolished collection of handmade rulebooks sold at cons in a plastic baggie. By the time these products of enthusiastic amateurs filter themselves through various levels of popularity and absorb mainstream cash influx, they're often risk-averse and missing a lot of the bold spark that inspired their fans in the first place; others will simply never drift towards the mainstream at all. I'm not saying you should be the person who goes out to dig through the slush piles of the internet looking for overlooked art, unless you want to be-- but sometimes a work of actual staggering genius also happens to be a Supernatural fanfic by a first-time author who's a little hazy on commas, and if that's a dealbreaker, you're going to miss out on some profoundly valuable experiences.

And hiding behind all of these things is, like...

Our appreciation of beauty has an odd structure, right? When things are done very skillfully, by brilliant artists with years of training, we can usually appreciate those accomplishments. And when we're looking at nature without human influence, and especially when we think very deeply about natural processes and understand them in context, we often rediscover that sense of beauty. There's just this bizarre hole in the middle where we declare things 'ugly'; as if a little skill is worse than none at all.

I really don't trust that gap. It feels like a trick my brain is playing on me, you know? It has me suspicious that a lot of what I consider 'ugly' or 'bad' is not a very direct experience of the world at all, or an informed judgment. That it is, rather, a declaration of (self-, social-) identity; a desire to be seen as a person of good taste, or as somebody who does things well, or just more primitively as one of the monkeys who is in the good-stuff-tribe and not one of the monkeys who is in the bad-stuff-tribe.

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purplepixel · 4 months

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What if the turtles were in the pokemon world? And what if they were never turtles, but in fact, mutated pokemon? What if they lived in the Castelia sewers of Unova instead of New York?

Meet my Rise/Pokemon AU!! Waaaah this has been on my mind for MONTHS now. Pokemon is that one fixation that'll never leave me. I'm THAT pokemon fan that knows WAAAAY too much about the games and lore. For those that don't know,

Raph is Drednaw

Leo is Wartortle

Mikey is Torkoal

Donnie is Lapras

Yes. They are all shiny. I started with raph, since him as drednaw is pretty much a no brainer. The shiny form fit too well with him and his color scheme. Than I realized if I made him shiny, I had to make the other bros shiny as well so THEY ALL SHINY. (draxum shiny hunter confirmed?) Also dual rock typing fits well with raph's character.

Wartortle for leo was also a pretty obvious choice. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM. Long flowy tail? Yes please. I had to keep his markings somehow. Wartortle has little dark cheek spots, so I just changed them to be leo's markings. Water typing leo. Go with the flow, think on the spot, it worked out too well.

Torkoal for Mikey was another easy one. Fire turtle? Passionate, warm, also DANGEROUS (he can be a menace ok) Say no more. His powers in rise are already pyro related. Also having him shiny helped a lot with the color scheme. Torkoal is normally orange so having mikey be the yellow shiny form meant I didn't have to mess with his mask colors

Donnie on the other hand....OHHH BOI I STRUGGLED WITH YOU. I went through 4 DIFFERENT POKEMON, before deciding on the least turtle like of them all. I am aware that we do have a softshell pokemon with enamorous, but it's a legendary so thats not happening. But it was really important for me to keep donnie's soft shell and battle shell. I wanted this to be a RISE au and donnie's battle shell is pretty tied into his character. (there's also tirtouga which I almost went with, but I didn't like that both he and raph shared the exact same dual typing) Soooo, Lapras. Its more of a loch ness monster but it also draws inspiration from a placochelys (prehistoric seaturtle esque species) so IM COUNTING IT. Very unconventional but I have my reasons. Ice typing is a good offensive type, but is pretty bad defensively. Which ties into rise donnie's fighting style. If I wasn't a coward, I wouldve made donnie the biggest of the bros. Since lapras is like 8 feet tall compared to the others being like 1-3 feet. But uhhh, I swear I have an in universe explanation for why he's so small ok.

And than there's April. She is not a pokemon trainer in this au. At least not in the traditional sense. I've been with pokemon for all of my 26 years of life, and I always wanted to know what the normal people of the pokemon world are up to. Not everyone is out here collecting gym badges, travelling, or catching them all. How do non-trainers interact with the pokemon world? So that's where I'm at with April. She will get a pokemon partner, but other than that, she's just an average high schooler who befriended the turtles from a young age and takes part in all their shenanigans. I took some design elements from rosa and hilbert with her outfit, but otherwise its pretty much the same.

We'll see how far I'll take this. I've been using this as a break from my many other projects, but like everything I do, it grew too many legs and is slowly becoming its own thing.

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changbunnies · 4 months

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Crave, Part 1 (18+)

♡ Pairing: Romantic Demon!Hyunjin x Human Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: supernatural au, demon au, age gap relationship typical in monster fucker fics, intended to be porn with plot but atm there is more plot than porn lol

♡ Word Count: 3.6k

♡ Summary: "The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain." - Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy. In which Hyunjin, a demon from the nine circles of hell, finds himself impossibly infatuated with the very human he once set upon himself to destroy.

♡ Warnings: don’t read if you’ll be uncomfortable over talks about religion from the perspective of a demon!, themes of sexual purity in the context of religion, a lot of immoral behavior and thoughts + ideas from hyunjin, supernatural abilities, themes of possesiveness, the seven deadly sins are brought up multiple times, hyun is thousands of years old so take that as you will lol, hell's structure is based off dante alighieri's depiction of it in the divine comedy but knowledge of it isn't necessary to enjoy this fic!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): there isn't really any overt smut in this first part it's more like referenced sexual activity, masturbation, voyeurism (hyun is watching reader while they're unaware he is there), porn watching

♡ Notes: after receiving feedback, i'll now be posting my long fics in multiple parts as i finish them like i do on ao3 instead of waiting until it's finished to post here! i'm taking a break from my royal au series to finally write out this fic i've had rattling in my brain since last september but never got around to writing until this past month :') idk how long this will be in the end but i'm planning at least 3 parts! i hope you stick around till the end <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There are many things in this world, the world of humans, that even a monster such as Hyunjin was born to desire. A primal want, weaved into the very fabric of his being, designed to be etched into his soul- if he had one, that is. That is what initially brought him here; the heart of one of the world's most populated cities, his territory an otherwise unoccupied luxury suite in one of the many skyrises that line the bustling streets.

It was an ideal place to be; there wasn't much in the way of furniture, given that it's a new development with no human occupants, but the amenities it held were sleek and pristine. High windows that overlooked the entirety of the city rife with sin from what was nearly the top floor, marble countertops that screamed sophistication and elegance, and well equipped with security of both the physical and digital kind to keep out those who may want to chase the thrill of wandering where they do not belong. Hyunjin, who could simply float about wherever he wished, had no need for human things like beds or sofas.

In this space, he already had everything he needed- an ideal vantage point, isolation from the world until he himself chose to interact with it, and easy access to the myriad of damned soul that walked the streets beneath him. It was perfect, and it was his- until you showed up.

Hyunjin was no stranger to dealing with potential renters overtaking his territory- it was only natural for those with wealth to be ready to spend a fortune on the newest availble luxury apartment that catches their eye. While Hyunjin had never once been seen; he was certainly known; rumors abound of an evil presence in suite 13, that left even non-believers fleeing in terror, leaving as quickly as they came. "Evil" felt a bit extreme of a description from Hyunjin's perspective, but what would humans truly understand of him?

He always felt as if his actions were completely justified; after all, why should a being with immense power such as him bend to the will of a measely human whose life was akin to a grain of sand in the desert of immortality that was his own lifespan? Regardless of his justifications and thoughts on what is evil and what isn't, he welcomed the fear humans have towards him- it made his life easier if they feared him and stayed far from his domain.

And yet here you were, seemingly ignorant of the fearful reputation this apartment held (not that he expected that the building's landlord would have informed you of it, of course- their only goal is money, at the end of the day.) Hyunjin didn't care for the rules of humans- whether or not you'd supplied the necessary money to purchase your way here or were deserving of it made no difference to him. It was his until he decided otherwise, and you were trespassing on his territory by being here.

When he'd first arrived back after a long outing back in his home within the second circle of the nine hells, only to see you filling his space with your things, walking about the apartment as if you owned it, blissfully unaware of his presence- it was infuriating. He had half a mind to scare you out right then, forever scar you by showing you his true form, send you running as he'd done to countless before you who tried to be here. But no, that wouldn't be enough. It would be letting you off too easily for his liking; this was different than scaring off someone who might intrude on his home- you already had.

What he wanted was more than his territory back- he wanted to make you suffer the most egregious torment one could ever endure for intruding on it, something far worse and much harsher than whatever a demon below his stature could muster. You deserved worse than that of mild terror, or to be able to flee from his space without repercussions for your transgression. No, he would only take back what was his after he'd turned your mind into a den of paranoia and hysteria. You needed to know true terror, true loss, true suffering, by his hand.

So he settled for observing you- it would be a longer process, one that could easily take months to reach true fruition, but the reward would be well worth his patience. He watched carefully, intently, his presence always concealed but unmistakably there. You would feel it sometimes, unbeknownst to yourself. A sudden chill up your spine, the subtle feeling of being watched making you turn your head, only to be met with nothing unusual in your line of sight. Funny, how humans were so attuned to the supernatural while simultaneously being so oblivious to their reality.

Your routines became committed to his memory, your every step and every action becoming increasingly familiar to him. Boring at times, but necessary if he wanted to learn the ins and outs of what makes you you, taking in every detail and memorizing them fully, so that when the day comes for him to turn your life into a miserable tragedy, forming you into a shell of who you once were, you'd have to beg him for forgiveness, for his mercy.

What were your fears? He'd easily make them reality. What did you hate? He'd make sure you suffered it. What broke your heart? He'd subject you to that pain over and over, until your heart was left shattered into a million, microscopic pieces. And it was only then, when you were mentally destroyed, the lowest you could ever possibly be and unrecognizable in your despair, that he'd appear before you, triumphant as he made you apologize for ever having stepped foot in his domain.

But as he observed you, he came to realize something strange- something he had never once found himself thinking about a human before. You were so... good, the closest to perfection a human could ever possibly be. And not perfect by the bullshit puritan standards set by the "heavenly creator," because you were as touched by sin as any human is, but perfect to him specifically.

Your sins were few and far between, with only one making a substantial impact on your purity; but it was the most important, most delicious sin of them all, the one that made Hyunjin's body seethe with delectable desire. You weren't envious, nor greedy or gluttonous; you lived in a luxurious penthouse suite, that was true, but greed to have the best of everything isn't what brought you here. The pride you felt for your accomplishments didn't go anywhere near sinful levels- you were proud of yourself, but not in such a way that you looked down on others while you sat atop your high horse.

You weren't slothful, brought to your current position by your own hard work and tireless efforts, and you weren't wrathful either, your emotions toward your fellow man always sweet, compassionate, and gracious. That only left one sin- just one that impacted your soul, that barred you from reaching true, godly purity.

Lust.

It wasn't an unhealthy amount of lust by any means, but any at all is enough to damn an unmarried woman's soul if she gives in to the temptation- an unfair ruling that has cost many their rightful place in paradise. And you certainly did give in to your temptation, and that is what made you perfect to him. You had none of the avarice of other humans, none of the undesirable qualities that made them foolish and arrogant and insufferable to deal with, instead held closely by one desire, the most important desire.

Was it a coincidence, he wondered? That he, a demon born of lust himself, found one such human that seemed to adhere perfectly to what he enjoys most? Hyunjin often felt himself above that of the sins his brothers were born to pursue. Violence did not suit him, emotions such as greed, pride, and jealousy often went beyond his comprehension. And not because he was some lowly, ignorant creature who was only capable of thinking with his dick, but because those feelings simply never came to him to begin with.

What was there to be jealous of? If he wanted something, he could have it, he could take it, as simple as that. Was he prideful? Sure, one could say he was, say that he had an ego, but he would argue that there was a clear difference between the arrogance that often comes with pride, and simply having confidence in one's own abilities and joy in their accomplishments.

He knew he could feel other emotions, indulge in other sins, if his brothers' conquests and actions were any tell, but he simply.. didn't. Lust was all he knew, was all that he enjoyed, but at the same time, he wasn't some low level demon who was consumed by lust. No, he could control it quite easily if he wished, was more than capable of waiting for the most ideal moment to finally savor in the addictive dance two bodies can share. (Or more than two bodies, should one prefer that.)

Lust was all he ever knew, but unlike the sex-starved beasts he ruled over and observed in his circle within hell, he was very much in control of himself. Make no mistake, it never went away, he always felt the gnawing craving for more and more and more- but it never addled his mind. That was the perk of being a demon with a higher consciousness than that of say.. an imp. He had complete control of his compulsions and desires.

It was this control over himself that led to Hyunjin savoring the lust that poured from human souls in only the most ideal conditions. There were many different kinds of lust, each with their own "taste" so to speak, and while Hyunjin found them all enjoyable to at least some degree, there was one in particular that was the most intoxicating to him, one that never failed to light a fire within him, the one that was always, always, worth waiting for.

The lust between two lovers, whose care for eachother was true, and good, and special- such as you would see from couples sleeping together for the first time, full to the brim with nervous excitement. Or maybe from long-time lovers reigniting their spark with a romantic night spent together after a warm, candlelit date. Especially delectable was the sweet consummation after making an eternal promise under God to be together forever, in sickness and in health, 'til death do you part. Those are just a few examples of the sort of lust that gave Hyunjin the best, sweetest taste.

The irony of being an immoral entity who gained the most enjoyment out of love and romance wasn't lost on him, but his preferences weren't built on some misconceived notion that he could aspire to feel those things himself. Yes, Hyunjin knew he would never feel the human emotion that was love, but he could understand, at least on a superficial level, why it tasted so sweet, and why humans seemed to fight for that feeling above all else.

Perhaps he existed to be a hypocrite, sowing seeds of chaos and turmoil while valuing true love, contradicting that which humans believed they knew about demons of lust such as himself. After all, was it not the very nature of a demon to confuse, contradict, and twist the human condition? And was it not utterly against his being to indulge in a feeling that was considered sacred by God? It didn't matter either way; if there was one thing that Hyunjin knew for certain, it was that sweet tastes were the best, and it didn't matter where it originated from or how- he just knew he liked it.

And oh, how his proverbial heart jolted when he sensed it on you the first time he saw you touching yourself. It was a surprise when, after a long day of unpacking and arranging furniture, you let your hand travel sinfully between your legs with a heady sigh- and far be it from Hyunjin to deny himself the opportunity to feed on a human's lust when it's practically being delivered to him on a silver platter. You hadn't been touching yourself for long, barely got your panties down your legs when he tasted it- subtle, but familiar enough to Hyunjin that he could recognize it anywhere.

It was hard to explain the sweet taste in human terms- there were really no words that could come close to describing it, as the "flavor" itself didn't exist within human understanding. Suffice it to say, it was something entirely unique to his kind, and something any demon would be able to distinguish with ease should they be in close enough proximity. It was unmistakable- you loved someone. That was information that could serve him well, something that he should be delighted to know he could ruin you with. And yet, for the first time in all his thousands of years, the feeling of lustful love left a bitter taste on his tongue.

You were in love.. And you envisioned that person while your fingers were buried between your legs, as you bit your lip and made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Who was it? Why did you love them? Were they even deserving of someone as perfect as you? Did they deserve to touch you? To feel you? Hyunjin grit his teeth, fists clenching into tight balls as an unfamiliar feeling began to permeate through the entirety of his being.

Is this.. what envy feels like? A rage beyond comprehension at the thought of someone else having you when it should be him? He should be the one you desired to have touching you, the one you imagined marking your unmarred skin, the one who made you cry out and tremble with even the simplest of touches. Would they even indulge in the sweet taste you radiate like he would? Would they even understand what perfection it is you offer simply by being? His, you should be his, only his, his, his.

The realization hit Hyunjin like cold water over hot skin- he wants you. And not just for one night, not superficially, not with needing to part ways afterwards. He wants you to love him, wants the feeling of love-drenched lust that radiates off you to be because of him, wants you to belong to him and him alone. You don't know him yet, but you will. And he'll make sure you're left wanting him, and only him, by any means necessary. Because it's what he wants, and he always gets what he wants.

Hyunjin wants to say it's simple curiosity that leads him to carefully stealing your phone off your nightstand once you've fallen asleep, or that's acting with the desire to know how to ruin the target of his ire more succinctly, but that simply isn't true. No, he is scrounging through your phone not with the intent to learn your greatest fears and hates, nor does he scour your messages to discover your darkest secrets.

It's a different purpose that has led him here, an unfamiliar ache that drives him to search your phone for something more. In hindsight, going through your phone to learn about you is a simple, easy act he could've, should've, done already, but he's a bit of a traditionalist in that regard. (Or maybe he just doesn't want to admit how much he's liked watching you these past few weeks.)

Who is that you love? And why? It would've been easier for him to find out had you truly let yourself go, allowed yourself to be loud and moan their name to your heart's content, but you hadn't. And maybe that was a good thing, as hearing someone else's name leave your lips in such a moment would've definitely sent him into a dangerous hate spiral, but that also meant he was left with nothing to go on as a clue.

He was much too stunned, and then seething with anger and jealousy, to read your thoughts in the moment, and if he tried to do so now, while you were sleeping, all he would do is catch a glimpse of your dreams- not helpful in the slightest, unless you happen to be dreaming of the object of your desire. (Which you weren't. He already looked.)

Unlocking your phone is easy, as he's seen you put in your password several times over at this point. Unfortunately for him however, (and fortunate for the one undeserving of Hyunjin's wrath,) he finds nothing that makes the object of your affection explicitly obvious. Your texts with friends all use the same tone, you talk about mundane things like what movies are coming out or how you wish you could go on a vacation for a while.

Your photo gallery is relatively small, filled mostly by screenshots of things you wish to remember or keep for a laugh, and the occasional selfie. There's nothing that screams "this is the person i'm in love with!" no matter where in your phone he looks, and if it wasn't for how intensely he felt the emotion radiating from you as your fingers sped up and release built, he'd think he must have imagined it.

What interesting this he does find, however, are the differen't porn links littered through your incognito tabs, all that paint a very vivid picture of what you find most appealing, or in more vulgar terms, what gets your pussy really fucking wet. He skims through your collection of favorites and private bookmarks, and quickly comes to realize they all hold a similar theme- love, romance, and doms who are soft even when being rough with the sub's body or speaking condescending words.

Various videos and audio files, with titles such as "roommate gets railed after confessing her secret feelings," "pov: boy next door accidentally confesses and then fucks you passionately," and "soft dom makes his good girl cum hard: boyfriend asmr." There's even an entire erotic movie, much to Hyunjin's surprise, with a 2 hour run time and dedicated plot in your recent bookmarks.

He decides to watch it, for research purposes of course- what better way to get to know the object of his desire than by watching the porn she consumes for himself? It's rather generic as far as ideas go- childhood best friends confessing their love before going away to college, with sweet, sensual but desperate fucking and a promise they'll be in love no matter the distance put between them. A cliché plot, by human media standards.

However, he has to give it due props- it's obviously not an amateur production. It's acted well, has better cinematography than one might expect for a film produced by a porn studio, and the dialogue never crosses into cringe, overtly fake territory. Despite it all, something about it feels real, as if he'd taken a genuine glimpse into the lives of two young people in love, rather than a manufactured video meant to make the people who watch it unbearably horny.

Hyunjin continued through your collection after that, eager to see what other gems lied in your favorites, waiting to be watched by him. They're all the same fundamentally speaking, your preferences and biases easily shining through with each video watched and audio listened to. Emotionally charged, romantic confessions, sweet "i love you"s, soft, caring doms who take good care of the submissive one, making them feel desired, beautiful, and secure.

The person you're in love with, the one who lingers in your mind when you watch these videos and your hand travels between your legs- this is what you want them to do. You want them to love you passionately, to make you fall apart in the sweetest of ways, to take care of you so well that your thoughts can linger on nothing but the way they make you feel. You want them to sweetly tell you they love you while they fuck you, to speak filthy words in your ears in a soft, saccharine voice as they make you cum. To fuck you dumb, to ruin you, and then expertly put you back together with a tender touch.

Carefully, he puts your phone back in its place, looking at you once he's done, still sound asleep in your bed and without a clue in the world that there's a demon standing before you, close enough to touch. You've lived with Hyunjin for weeks now, but you don't know who he is, don't know that he's there, don't know that you have unexpectedly become the reason for a demon's strange and new complex emotions. Isn't it funny? How a demon as powerful as him has become infatuated with you despite you not even knowing he exists.

It's illogical to desire you, truly. Humans are fickle, subject to corruption and irrationality, their lives impossibly short. What one man works his entire life to obtain, Hyunjin can have in mere moments with a fraction of the effort. To a being that has lived thousands of years, the life of a human happens in a mere blink. You grow old, you get sick, you die, your accomplishments fade to nothing, forgotten as the next wave of humans walk the earth in your stead. You're beneath him, he's better than you, and yet..

Why does he still crave you so? Maybe he's no better than the humans he's looked down upon, considering them lesser for their innate hypocrisies and irrational actions- because Hyunjin is about to do just the same. His feelings for you are hypocritical, irrational, foolish, but also the most real thing he's ever felt. And if it's romance you want, that will make you fall head over heels for him, then he'll be the most romantic demon the nine hells have ever known.

#skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #hyunjin smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

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Tabs give me superpowers

Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

"Lifehacking" is in pretty bad odor these days, and with good reason: a once-useful catch-all for describing how to make things easier has become a pit of productivity porn, grifter hustling, and anodyne advice wreathed in superlatives and transformed into SEO-compliant listicles.

But I was there when lifehacking was born, and I'm here to tell you, it wasn't always thus. Lifehacking attained liftoff exactly 19 years and 348 days ago, on Feb 11, 2004, when Danny O'Brien presented "Life Hacks: Tech Secrets of Overprolific Alpha Geeks" at the 0'Reilly Emerging Technology Conference (aka ETCON). I was there, and I took notes:

https://craphound.com/lifehacksetcon04.txt

O'Brien's inspiration was his social circle, in which people he knew to be no smarter or better or motivated than anyone else in that group were somehow able to do much more than their peers, in some specific domain. O'Brien delved deeply into these peoples' lives and discovered that each of them had merely ("merely!") gotten very good at using one or two tools to automate things that would otherwise take up a lot of their time.

These "hacks" freed up their practitioners to focus on things that mattered more to them. They accomplished the goal set out in David Allen's Getting Things Done: to make a conscious choice about which things you are going to fail to do today, rather than defaulting to doing the things that are easy and trivial, at the expense of the things that matter, but are more complicated:

https://gettingthingsdone.com/what-is-gtd/

One trait all those lifehacks shared: everyone who created a little hack was faintly embarrassed by it, and assumed that others who learned about their tricks would find them trivial or foolish. O'Brien changed the world by showing that other people were, in fact, delighted and excited to learn about their peers' cool little tricks.

(Unfortunately, this eventually opened the floodgates of overheated posts about some miraculous hack that turned out to indeed be silly and trivial or even actively bad, but that wasn't O'Brien's fault!)

I'm one of those people whom others perceive as very "productive." There are some objective metrics on which this is true: I wrote nine books during lockdown, for example. Like the lifehackers O'Brien documented in 2004, I have lots of little hacks that aren't merely a way of getting more done – they're a way to make sure that I get the stuff that matters to me (taking care of my family and my health, and writing books) done.

A lot of these lifehacks boil down to making your life easier. There's a spot on our kitchen counter where I put e-waste. Whenever I go out to the car, I carry any e-waste out and put it in a bag in the trunk. Any time I'm near our city dump, I stop and throw the bag into their e-waste bin. This is now a habit, and habits are things you get for free: I spend zero time thinking about e-waste, which means I have more time to think about things that matter (and our e-waste still ends up in the right place).

There's other ways I use habits to make my life easier: after many years, I learned how to write every day:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

For longer-form works like novels, I "leave myself a rough edge," finishing the day's work in the middle of a sentence. That way I get a few words for free the next day, meaning I never start the day's work wondering which words I'll type:

https://locusmag.com/2014/01/cory-doctorow-cheap-writing-tricks/

One of the most powerful habits I've cultivated is to have a group of daily tabs that I open in a new browser every morning. The meat of this tab group is websites I want to check in with every day, either because they don't have RSS feeds, or because I want to make sure I never miss an update.

This tab-group habit started before RSS was widespread, when most of the websites I wanted to check in on every day didn't have feeds yet, and for many years, this group was just a set of daily reads. But over the years, I started throwing things in the tab-group that I needed to stay on top of.

My daily tabs are in a folder called "unfucked rota" (they were originally in a folder called "rota," which got corrupted and had to be reconstructed in a folder I called "fucked rota," until I finally took a couple hours off and got it in good running order, hence "unfucked rota"). As I type this, "unfucked rota" contains more than a hundred websites I visit every morning, but it also contains:

The edit-history pages for four Wikipedia entries I'm watching;

Chronological feeds of my books on Amazon and Audible, to catch counterfeits as they are posted;

The parent notification portal for my kid's school;

The mileage history for the airline I flew on yesterday (I'll delete this once the flight is posted);

The credit card history for a card I reported a fraudulent charge on (I'll delete this once the refund is posted);

The sell-pages for three products that are out of stock (I'll delete these once the products are in stock and ordered);

A bookmarked newest-first Ebay search for a shirt I like that has been discontinued by the manufacturer;

The new-survey-completed pages for my last two Kickstarters;

The courier tracking page for an item being shipped sea-freight to me from Asia.

The tail end of this unfucked rota changes all the time, but as you can tell, it's got a lot of stuff that would be time-consuming to build a whole new system to track, but which has a web-page that can be easily added to a daily, habitual check-in and then removed when it's not relevant anymore.

Some of these things have email notifiers or RSS feeds, but those are too easy to lose in the noise. I generally delete email from ecommerce sites unread, since 99.99% of the messages they send me are unsolicited marketing nonsense, not the "notify me when this is back in stock" message I do want to see (same goes for my kid's school, which sends me fifty unimportant messages for every message that I must reply to).

Most of the internet is still on the web, which means it can be bookmarked, which means that it takes me one second to add it to the group of things I'm staying on top of, and one second to remove from that group. I get up in the morning, middle-click the "unfucked rota" item in my bookmarks pane, make a cup of coffee, and then sit down and race through those tabs, close-close-close.

It takes less than a second to scan a tab to see if it's changed (and if I close a tab too quickly, the ctrl-shift-T "unclose" shortcut is there in muscle-memory, another habit). The whole process takes between one and 15 minutes (depending on whether there's anything useful and new in one of those tabs).

Tabs, like lifehacks, are also in bad odor. Everyone stresses about how many tabs they have open. It's even inspired Rusty Foster's excellent newsletter, Today In Tabs:

https://www.todayintabs.com/

But this is a very different way to think about tabs. Rather than opening a window full of tabs that need your detailed, once-off attention later, this method is about using groups of tabs so that you can pay cursory, frequent attention to them.

In a world full of administrative burdens, where firms and institutions play the "sure, we'll do that, but you're going to have to track our progress" game to get out of living up to their obligations, this method is a powerful countermeasure:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

My little tab habit is so incredibly useful, such a powerful way to seize back time and power from powerful actors who impose burdens on me, that I sometimes forget how, for other people, tabs are a symptom of a life that's spiraling out of control. For me, a couple hundred tabs are a symbol of a couple hundred tasks that I'm totally on top of, a symbol of control wrestled back from others who are hostile to my interests.

This isn't how tabs were "meant" to be used, of course. It's an example of the kind of "innovation" that comes from users repurposing things in ways their designers didn't necessarily anticipate or intend.

This is what Jonathan Zittrain meant by "generative" technology back in 2008, when he published his incredibly prescient The Future of the Internet: And How To Stop It:

https://memex.craphound.com/2008/07/22/zittrains-the-future-of-the-internet-how-to-save-the-internet-from-the-internet/

For Zittrain, "generativity" was the property of some technologies that let its users generate new, useful tools and solutions for themselves (this is very different from "generative AI!")

Zittrain described how "curated" computing systems, like mobile devices that relied on apps that couldn't be adapted by their users, were dead ends for generativity. 15 years later, the dismal world of apps has proven him right:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/24/everything-not-mandatory/#is-prohibited

To the extent that "lifehacking" is about doing more, rather than being more deliberate about what you accomplish, it can be harmful. I am not immune to the failure modes of lifehacking:

https://locusmag.com/2017/11/cory-doctorow-how-to-do-everything-lifehacking-considered-harmful/

But overall, using tabs as something I close, rather than something I open, is a source of comfort and calm for me. For one thing, ripping through a group of tabs every morning means that I don't have to worry about missing something if I go too fast. I'll get another chance tomorrow:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/27/probably/

Decades ago, Dori Smith dubbed her pioneering blog her "#Backup Brain":

https://web.archive.org/web/20020120231027/http://www.backupbrain.com/

At their best, our systems – be they physical, like a spot on the counter where the e-waste goes, or digital, like a tab-group – are "congitive prostheses." They allow us to move important things from the highly contested, busy and precious space between our ears and out there into the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Like those lifehackers that O'Brien studied for his presentation in 2004, I confess to feeling a little silly about telling you all about this. For me, this habit of decades is so ingrained that it feels trivial and obvious. And yet, when I look at people in my life struggling to stay on top of a million nagging administrative tasks that could be easily watched through a morning's flick through a tab-group, I can't help but think that maybe some of you will find a useful idea or two in my unfucked rota.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/25/today-in-tabs/#unfucked-rota

#pluralistic #productivity #life hacks #mozilla #firefox #open web #systems #getting things done #externalized memory #outboard brain #generativitiy

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lis-likes-fics · 7 months

Text

Kiss Me Through the Phone

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader Word Count: 2.1k words Kink: Phone Sex Warnings: NSFW, phone sex, masturbation (m and f), dirty talk, daddy kink, praise... A/N: This is late, ik. I swear I'm working on it but that ADHD and everything is hitting HARD. I can't promise I'll catch up but I can promise that these will get finished so I won't leave you hanging. Enjoy this (late) fic though and I'll hopefully see you again with a new one tomorrow!

"Don't you think you should probably be getting to bed, babe?"

Steve raises a brow as he speaks into the receiver holding the phone to his ear as he awaits your response. You called him hours ago to talk while you did homework. The first half hour consisted of him teasing you because you still had homework to do while he graduated the year before. He kept calling you a "literal child", to which you replied, "Then I'm dating a pervert." He promptly shut up.

But now it's midnight, and you ditched the remainder of your homework a couple hours ago. It's late, and you technically have school in the morning. You aren't ready to hang up but Steve is always trying to take care of you, and this is one of those times when he's trying to enforce that—even though he'd rather die than hang up the phone.

"And, you know, I would but…" you trail off on the other end, trying to come up with an excuse and falling short as you shrug, "I just don't want to."

He rolls his eyes and laughs. "Go to bed."

"You can't make me."

"I'm going to."

"How? You're not even here."

"I'm going to drive to your house and make you."

"If you drove to my house, I'd convince you to do something much better than sleeping…" Steve can hear the smirk in your voice, and he thinks he's going to die if you keep using your charm on him like this. He's already horny enough all the time as it is, you don't need to make it worse with suggestive comments you can currently live up to.

"You drive me crazy," he answers truthfully.

He hears you giggle and smiles. "That's good. Keeps you on your toes."

He shakes his head and hears you shuffle around. When you curse under your breath, he hums. "What?"

"Nothin'. Got the cord wrapped around my hand and it tangled a little." A pause. "There."

"Yeah, well, you probably like that shit, don't you? Fuckin' weirdo."

You laugh quietly, trying not to disturb the rest of the people sleeping in your house. "Don't kink shame me!"

He raises his brows, "What if kink shaming is my kink?"

You hum, "It's not. You like to be called Daddy. Which is admittedly weirder."

He scoffs, ignoring the heat in his cheeks when you say it. "No, it's not."

You giggle again. "Yeah, it is. Daddy."

He licks his lips. "You think so? Baby?"

He hopes you'll say no because, otherwise, his "baby" makes him sound like a creep.

"No," you say, an angel. You miss his little relieved breath. "You wanna know what I like?"

"What do you like, baby?" he asks, less joking this time and more fond.

"I like your hands..." Your voice is quieter now, speaking in a secret whisper between the two of you in the cover of the night.

We're doing this, Steve thinks, excited.

"Yeah?" he murmurs. "Where do you like them?"

"Well… I've been wanting a new necklace. I think that'd work just fine," you smile shyly.

He can see it, kissing you all nice with his hand wrapped around your throat. His pants suddenly feel really tight.

"Where else would you like it?" he wonders.

"I dunno," you mutter, shy suddenly. Steve thinks you're weird. You're almost always the one to start something like this, and then you get shy and quiet when he plays along with you. He thinks you're cute.

"You don't know?"

"Mm-mm," you say.

He smiles, licking his bottom lip. "You know where I'd like it?"

"Hm?"

"On your thigh," he breaths. His hand moves to rest on his own thigh. He hears your breath hitch. "I'd love to feel your thighs. I miss 'em."

It takes a moment for you to respond again. "Where else would you put them?"

"Where else do you want me to put them?" he counters. He knows you don't like when he does that—or, you don't favor it. He knows how it makes you squirm, when he makes you tell him what you want. You're never good at telling him.

Your voice becomes really small, really shy. "I dunno."

"You dunno?" he asks, smiling. "Where do you want me to put my hands?"

Steve can imagine you on your bed with the phone pressed to your ear, playing with the cord as you try to come up with a response that isn't "I dunno".

"Just tell me. Don't worry about soundin' weird," he says.

You take a breath. "I want your hand…"

You trail off and he has to contain his laugh. "Where?" he asks again. "On your hands? On your tits? Inside of you?"

A pause. "All of the above?"

He does laugh this time, clutching the phone. "Where do you want me the most?"

You clear your throat a little. "Inside me."

"I want 'em inside you, too."

He hears you moan lightly, and now he has to undo his belt.

"Would you like that, baby? For me to put my fingers inside you? I'd have you squirming like crazy."

"Yeah," you whisper back. "What do you want me to do?"

"What do I want you to do?" he repeats, smiling. "You don't needa do anything. I'll take care of you."

You chuckle lightly. "Yeah, but… what do you want me to do? Do you want me to touch you or…?"

He feels like teasing you. "You mean, like, jerk me off? Or did you wanna use your mouth, dirty girl?" He can imagine you biting your lip, trying to hide your face away from him.

"Did you want that?" you murmur.

"Did you?" he counters.

You laugh a little. "Answer my fucking question, dummy."

He laughs as well, "Yeah, I do." His amusement dies down a little, returning to little secret words. "I really want it, but I wanna spread you open and eat you up more."

He hears you moan again. And then you moan again, and his interest is piqued, along with something else…

"Are you touching yourself?" he asks, a smile in his voice as he calls you out.

You get shy again. "Maybe a little."

"How much is a little?" You don't respond. You just moan again.

He's too hard to ignore it anymore. He unbuckles his tight jeans and takes himself out of his boxers. He brushes his thumb over his tip, red and weeping as he closes his eyes and sighs shallowly.

Your voice grabs his attention again. “Are you touchin’ yourself now?”

He chuckles lightly, too breathy to be subtle. “Can you blame me when you’re makin’ those pretty sounds in my ear?” He strokes himself slowly. “God, what I’d do to be there right now. I’m so in love with you.”

Your laugh comes out as a tiny whimper, your voice just as breathy as his as you thrust your fingers inside of your and sigh. “You’re too nice to me.”

“I’m not nice enough to you,” he disagrees. “You deserve the world, baby.”

“How about– Mmh– How about we just start with your voice in my ear, huh?” you mumble. “What would you do if you were here right now, Stevie?”

He makes you swear never to tell anyone but he loves that nickname. You only ever use it when you’re feeling really soft and shy, in the comfort of just his company when he’s being especially sweet and you’re a pile of mush. He wants you tucked under his arm, and he wants to kiss you stupid, but he has to settle for just a smile through the phone and a few words that don’t accurately describe how strongly he feels for you.

“If I were there right now, I would lay you on the bed and put your pretty thighs over my shoulder.” You shudder on a moan, presumably pushing your fingers deeper inside of yourself and curling. Steve keeps going. “I’d fucking devour you and then kiss you all over your body—which is just perfect, by the way—and then I’d fuck you dumb.”

You moan. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, taking his lotion from his drawer and smearing it in his hand. He strokes his cock a little faster, wrapping his fist around himself and squeezing as his head tips back and his lips part, a breathy moan slipping from them. “I’d fucking split you open on my cock.” He knows you love it when he says that. You always melt in his hands whenever he says things like this. “You’d be cryin’ f’me.”

You’re so lost in your mind, imagining him doing these things to you whilst thinking about his hands inside your pussy instead of your own. “Where would you put me?”

He’s happy to tell you. “We’d start out with you on top. I’d put you in my lap and let you ride me until your little legs got all weak and tired. Then I’d lay you down and fuck you with your legs around my neck. Have you screaming my name.”

Your voice is pitchier now, and he swears he can hear the faint sound of your pussy squelching with the rhythm of your insistent fingers. He pulses in his hand, his hips jerking up into his hand every so often as he grinds into his fist. He’s fucking his hand by now, so lost in thought that he can’t help but get a little carried away imagining his fist is your tight pussy.

“Which name?” you whimper. “Steve or Daddy?”

He verbally shudders. “Both.”

“Which one do you want the most?”

He chuckles darkly, aware of the way you turn his question around like he had done to you before. “Maybe you should call me Daddy.” He groans. “You’ve gotten a little out of line since we last did something like this…”

“Maybe I should, Daddy,” you reply back, immediately followed by a whine. He wants so badly to be there to watch you touch yourself, to watch you try to put your little fingers inside of you and hit all the spots he does. He can imagine so vividly you trying to replicate the way he makes you feel. "Need you to…remind me who I belong to."

He's so pent up as he listens to you. He can't help when a few stray groans make their way out of him. "You know who you belong to. You're mine, baby."

"'M yours," you moan, wet sounds reaching the phone and filling Steve's ears with sweet music as he fists himself faster. "I need you."

"Yeah?" he hums. "You need Daddy to fuck you nice and deep, baby?"

"Yes." A moan. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you, baby," he says, too fond and too affectionate and too far gone to fight his urge to get in his car and go to see you right now. But he would die before he left this call.

He's close, he can feel it creeping up on him as his hips jerk up into his hand. By the way you gasp and moan into the phone, he can tell you're reaching your breaking point as well.

"You gonna cum for me, babygirl?" Steve asks, listening closely.

"Yeah."

"You gonna cum all over those pretty fingers?"

"Yes."

"Fuck," he huffs. "Do it for me, baby. Cum for me."

He can hear you try to stay quiet, your muffled gasp as a deep breath fills your lung on a whimper. "Oh, fuck, Daddy!"

He curses under his breath, your little whimpers and whine as you cum and moan his name bringing him closer and closer until he can't hold it anymore.

His mouth falls open and his grunt melts into a rough whimper as he cums after you. He feels the warm, sticky release coat his chest. As his pleasure wanes and he feels like he can think straight again, he sighs deeply into the phone.

"Fuck." He hears you sigh heavily. "You okay, baby?"

A pause. And then.

"Yeah." You sigh, "Fuck, that's better."

He smiles. "Been thinking about it?"

"All day." Your voice is breathy, slurred together like you're going to pass out at any moment.

He runs a hand through his hair, "Well, when I see you tomorrow, we can reenact it." He grabs at the shirt he'd taken off a long time ago, wiping himself clean as he listens to your steady breath through the phone. "You want that?"

"Mmm," you agree.

He smiles fondly. "You still with me?" He can see you dozing off into your pillow, and he wishes he could feel your warmth against him.

"Mmm," you hum again.

He lowers his voice to accommodate for your sleepiness, "I'm gonna hang up, baby."

"Hmm-mm."

"I love you," he says, kissing into the phone and wishing he could kiss you.

"'ove you, t-mm," you mumble, barely coherent but trying for him.

He chuckles lightly. "Goodnight."

"Mmm."

Steve the Babysitter taglist: @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @param8re @anotherblackreader Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @hellfire1986baby @gublur @allofmari @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash Tag yourself here...

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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twitterpated-passion · 1 year

Text

Save a Horse | Monster Boyfriend

You took a deep breath, looking at the old townhouse that loomed over you.

The baby blue paint was peeling and the porch looked like it hadn't been used for years, but you knew otherwise. Glancing over at the pair of rocking chairs on the left corner of the porch, you let the breath you just pulled in leave you, tears pricking at your eyes.

It was your grandparents' old house. It sat right on the edge of a small town, right beside a farm and as old as it looked on the outside, you knew they took more than perfect care of it on the inside. You always wondered how it'd look with a fresh coat of paint...guess you can figure it out now that they've left it to you.

Turning your head to look at your car, then to the trailer you rented to bring over the larger stuff and boxes your car couldn't fit, you looked back to house and pulled the house key out of your pocket. You had a long day ahead of you, and it was already noon, so if you wanted to get the trailer back to the moving place you rented it from, you were going to have to get a move on.

You unlocked the door and swung the door open, hearing the familiar loud creak of it as it did.

But right as you were about to turn around, you heard someone pull into your new driveway, forcing you to turn around quickly just to be met with an older truck, a country-rock mix pouring out of the open windows. You squinted your eyes, trying to see who's in the truck before it shuts off and the door opened.

A wolf with dark brown fur stepped out of the truck, donning a light green flannel and a pair of faded jeans with the cliché cowboy boots pulling the look together. He tilted his head at you, smiling over as he finally talked, "Well I'll be damned, it's true."

"What?" You couldn't help but ask, quickly adding onto it by asking him something else, "Who are you?"

His smile falters and you took a step closer to him. There was something familiar about him, you could admit, but you've practically seen everyone in town because of your summers with your grandparents. "I know it's been a few years, but ya can't say ya don't remember me."

The southern drawl made you feel a little more at home, but you only shook your head with a sorry shrug. Walking over to him, you catch a glimpse of his eyes, a warm golden brown, mixing with his fur well.

You squinted again, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you dragged your eyes up and down his form. Then it hit you, the only dark brown wolf you could know in this town.

"Shit- Jayce?" You met his eyes again and he grinned down at you, flashing his canines before he nudged your arm with a loose fist, letting you catch a glimpse of his tail swaying happily.

"There ya go, told ya you couldn't say it."

"Yea well, it's not like you haven't changed," you joked, nudging his arm back. "You used to be my height the last time I saw you. Now you're a giant. How tall are you now? Seven foot? Seven and a half?"

"Eight foot, Bugs." You couldn't help but smile as you rolled your eyes, pushing his arm firmly at the name.

"I told you not to call me that."

"And you continued to call me Bub, so I can call you Bugs." There was a beat of silence before the two of you started to chuckle, his large hands swooping you up to hug you. You grabbed onto his flannel, letting out a noise when he squeezed you. "'M sorry to hear bout what happened with your gram and gramps. They were lovely folks."

"I know," you said, glancing up at him. "...Just their time. 'S that why you're here?"

"Nah," he started, shaking his head. "Heard you were back in town. Wanted to see for myself. Help you with unpacking if you were."

"Well, I'm here. And...I could honestly do with a little help, at least with bringing in everything. I have to bring back the trailer by the time the moving place closes or else I'm paying again." He pulled away from you and nodded.

"Right, well, you're lucky I'm here then."

"Am I?" He nodded again, looking smug as he watched you move over to the trailer and open the two doors, showing him what all you have whenever you stepped away.

"Now, that ain't too much. I could do all that myself. But I'm shocked you didn't bring anything else."

"It's an hour trip from the city both ways. I didn't wanna bring much. Besides...all I really needed was a mattress replacement for the master bedroom. All the other furniture is fine." He cocked his head to the side again before glancing back at the stuff.

"Ya didn't have much, didcha?" You tensed, smile faltering before you shook your head, hearing a small chuckle leave him. "Had a feelin', you've said somethin' about hating the furniture."

"You remember that?"

"'Course I do," he said. "I hated it too."

Rolling your eyes again, you reached in to grab a box, dragging it to the edge before yanking it out and into your arms. "And I don't hate all of the furniture...just most of it."

Jayce chuckled again before shaking his head and motioning towards the front door as he started walking over to the trailer. You moved out of the way, walking over towards the porch as you stepped up the stairs and walked into the house.

It was just like you remembered it, just dustier. Which made sense, it's been almost a year since your grandparents passed. The deed just took forever to finalize. Setting the box in the little space beside the steps, you turned to go out and grab another, only to move out the way when Jayce came in with two boxes, his body dipping down as he went through the doorway. "I remember that doorway bein' a lot taller."

"It's been five years, Jayce. You've been through some pretty intense growth spurts." He set the boxes beside the one your brought in and rolled his shoulders. "What're you doing now a' days though? I remember you helping your dad out around here, but...time changes things."

"I'm a farm hand now," he said, head turning towards one of the windows, his hand lifting to point over towards the field that neighbored your house. "I have a little deal with the owner, they're gettin' older and they can't handle the farm too much anymore. In ten years time, the farm should be mine."

You did the quick math in your head, remembering that he was three years older than you. "At thirty-five you'll need a farm hand then."

He shrugged, meeting your eyes again as his smile grew. "I'll figure it out then. I still have time."

You nodded and the two of you walked out together, you leading him back to the trailer. "How about you? Heard ya got your degree early."

"From who?" You glanced over at him after you grabbed another box. "My grandparents moved out of this place right months before they...well you know what I'm aiming at."

"Your parents keep in touch with me, Bugs." He nudged you gently. "Wish you would've."

Your expression fell and guilt started to bubble inside of your chest. You averted your gaze. "We didn't talk outside of those summers, Jayce, I assumed you wouldn't want to."

You heard him scoff, his finger tapping your cheek to get your eyes back on him. "I wanted to talk to you whenever I could. Still do."

Something inside of you fluttered and you resisted the urge to lean into the touch, even if it was just his finger. "Well...I'm back, so, we don't have to worry about staying in touch anymore. Five years is a lot to tackle though, think you got the time, Mr. Farm hand?"

"I got all the time in the world for you, Bugs. Promise." You smiled widely at that, shaking your head as he moved his hand to grab at one of your bedside tables that you really didn't want to give up whenever you moved from your studio apartment. "You have any work lined up, or...?"

"Gonna send an anthology to my editor then design the cover and all that fun shit." He chuckled at the dramatic sigh you let out before you started to walk back to the house, hearing his footsteps behind you after a moment.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

With a heavy sigh, you placed your hands on your hips, looking at all you unpacked and organized after getting the trailer back to the place you rented it from. It wasn’t much, and there were quite a few boxes still surrounding you, but you got your desk set up and ready for you to start working again and your mattress was on the bed frame and covered in your numerous blankets and unnecessary amount of throw pillows, so you considered it a good day's work, even if you still needed to get your clothes in the closet.

You pushed that thought to the back of your mind however, your lack of eating catching up to you when you hear something along the lines of a roar leave your stomach. It forced you to make a quick decision to either go to the store or go to a restaurant. You chose the restaurant.

When you got in your car and pulled out onto the road, you started to drive into town, seeing the houses and stores that lived here for the third time today, though a smile still made its way on your face at the fact that nothing changed since you left. Your smile got even wider when you got to the place you were looking forward to the first drive there.

You pulled into the parking lot, parking in the first spot you saw before noticing that the old neon lights still barely worked, shining just enough for someone to notice the difference than when it's off. Stepping out and locking your car, you made your way inside to the dive bar - diner mix.

Classic rock music filled your ears and you breathed in the smell of cheap beer and nostalgia. The corners of your mouth lifted a bit more when you walked further into the place.

You froze when you heard someone calling your name suddenly, turning your head before you broke out into a grin, your feet practically running to the bar as you almost threw yourself over it to hug the older man behind it. “Marky! Gods- I’ve missed you!”

He chuckled, wrapping a thick arm around you before patting you on the back once and letting you let go. “I missed ya too. How long has it been since ya left?”

“Too long,” you answered, voice soft, yet fortunately loud enough to be heard over the music and talking. You looked at the Half Orc, noticing that one of his tusks were gone, your brows furrowing at the sight. “Your tusk-”

“Was wondering when you’d notice it. Lost it trying to break up a fight,” Marcus answered. “No big deal.”

“You lost a damn tooth, Marky! No big deal my ass,” you scolded him, nudging him back with a laugh. He grinned back at you before he nudged you back.

“It’s good to have you back, city slicker.” You rolled your eyes at the name, shaking your head but still keeping your smile on your face.

“Good to be back…” You hopped up on the empty stool in front of you as Marcus tapped a finger against the wooden counter.

“Y’know somethin’? I didn’t even know you were comin’ back until Jayce came in one night as happy as can be, sayin’ your parents told him that you got Konnie and Martin’s house in the will, Gods rest their souls.” You nodded along, your attention being thrown away from Marcus when you heard the loud thump of a glass right beside you, then your eyes saw Jayce. Speak of the devil.

“It ain’t good talking about a person behind their back, y’know, Marcus?” Marcus snorted before snatching the empty glass from Jayce, moving to get him another drink. “Don’t listen to anything he says, swear the man’s gon’ loony.”

“So you weren’t happy I was coming back?” You asked teasingly, leaning to the side to elbow his arm softly. “Gee, I would’ve thought otherwise when we saw each other earlier today.”

You pouted up at him, watching as his eyes widened a little before he glanced away and he elbowed you right back. “You know that’s not what I meant, Bugs.”

“Sure, Bub.” You took a quick glance down, feeling the wind from the sway of his tail, a smile pulling at your lips again. “Coincidence we’d run into each other on the same day.”

He chuckled, looking back at you when Marcus gave him his drink, held up a finger to you before moving to help someone across the bar. “Yea, well, we did hang in this place a lot when we were teenagers.”

“You make that sound like it was fifty years ago,” you said, huffing out a laugh. “I finally put your number on my speed dial.”

“Did you?” Jayce asked, amused by your change in conversation. “The number better be-”

“It’s five, don’t worry,” you reassured him. “Made sure it was.”

“Good.” You laughed again, not really understanding his interest in the number, but accepting it nonetheless, especially when his tail picked up as he tried to hide his smile by taking a drink. His eyes flit over to the single sheet menu before passing it over to you. “Pick something, I’ll buy.”

“You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Ya can, and ya will, Bugs, consider it a welcome back gift or somethin’ like that. Since I know you won’t accept a real one.” Your eyes narrowed at him and all he did in response is take another drink of the cheap beer in his cup.

“Never took you as a beer drinker, Jayce,” you said, knowing you won’t be able to argue your way out of getting him to pay for you. “Thought you were a whiskey on ice kinda guy.”

“Only at home,” he answered. “Can’t afford whiskey all the time. Shit’s expensive when you don’t want garbage.”

“Farm boy’s classy,” you joke, hearing him snort before Marcus came back, tossing his towel on the counter in front of you and Jayce. “Y’hear that Marky? Our Jayce is classy.”

Jayce rolled his eyes as Marcus laughed, rasping his knuckles against the counter. “He gets it from his mom.”

You watched as Jayce’s smile softened at his words, only for Marcus to continue, “He got everything else from his dad. You two are the only hardasses in town I can handle.”

“Yea, well, you and Dad were best friends in high school, you two had to handle each other,” Jayce said. Marcus nodded, motioning towards you.

“If anything, we were damage control for their pops.” You let out a scoff.

“Dad didn’t get into any trouble. He was as innocent as I am.” Both Marcus and Jayce laughed, but it wasn’t long until you joined in. “Yea, I didn’t believe that either.”

After a moment, the mood died down and Marcus slid the menu over to you. “Whadda want?”

“Every time I came here I got the same exact thing, Marky, I’m not changing up on you now.” He shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for thinking five years away from this place you’d get some better taste buds.” Your jaw slacked as you looked over at Jayce, then back at Marcus. Your pout was inevitable as Marcus wrote it down before patting you on the arm. “Just fuckin’ with ya, there are people who order worse. Like a certain someone.”

His eyes flashed to Jayce before he moved to the kitchen and hung up the order, calling it out as he did. “How many beers have you had tonight?”

Jayce’s eyes met yours again and you smiled softly at the way the dim light brought out the brown. “This is my second one, promise.”

“How many do you usually order?”

“Three? I usually make my own meals, but old habits die hard, ya know?” You nodded, knowing full well that you did know. “‘M sorry I got upset atcha for not keeping in contact earlier today.”

“Upset? Dude, I deserved way worse than you just saying you wished I was in contact and your puppy dog eyes.” You rested your head on your hand, shrugging with a single shoulder. “You had every right to be upset.”

He didn’t look like he believed you, but he didn’t have to, and you both knew it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Wiping at your forehead, you take a step back before admiring the new living room, even if it needed a couple new couches before the entire look was complete. You got your tv hung up, the new shelves built and put with the older ones, your internet was finally up and running which meant that you were finally able to start working, which sounded like a cushy break compared to unpacking.

You felt a buzz in your pocket, reaching back to pull out your phone and check it, seeing that the notification was from Jayce, but a photo was attached. You opened up the chat you shared with him and hit the photo, seeing that it was of the two of you when you were teenagers. It was the end of the first summer you spent with him and by the looks of the photos, you could guess that the both of you were on the verge of crying.

You smiled at it before getting out and typing out ‘Gods we were babies’. It wasn’t long before you got a response from him.

‘Eh, I say we handled it like we were emotional teenagers.’ With a snort you shook your head, moving to lean on the doorframe.

‘You were seventeen, Jayce, you were a year from being an adult.’ That one doesn’t get an answer however, it gets him to call you. You respond to it after the first ring. “‘Ello.”

“Seventeen or not, I was an emotional teen.” You let out a cackle, hearing the grumble in his voice. “You weren’t any better when you left for the last time.”

“That’s because I knew I wasn’t going to have any time to come back, Bub,” you said, your voice getting softer. “You can’t tell me you weren’t in tears either. Twenty years old or not.”

“If you ask the right people, mainly my dad, they’ll tell you that I locked myself in my apartment for around a week before I could handle it.” You could hear a small sniffle on the other end of the phone before he cleared his throat. “That sounds dramatic when I say it outloud.”

“No no,” you started, “I was the same way. I think it hit me harder because I knew it was going to be my fault we wouldn’t see each other.”

“It wasn’t-”

“But it felt like it was…I went off to college…then I went abroad and I couldn’t even send a goddamn text…” You slid down against the doorframe until you met the floor, a sigh pulling itself from your lips. “Felt like I left you behind.”

“Ya didn’t,” he reassured you. “I would’ve rather you get a degree than waste your time here. Now that you have a degree though…you can waste your entire life here if ya want.”

You smiled again. “...Well…I do have a house now…and I don’t have many ties to the city…I don’t think wasting my life here would be so bad.”

“That’s the spirit, Bugs…” There was a beat of silence. Then Jayce broke it, “...Would ya mind if I came over? Work at the farm is done and I guess I just want to visit.”

“...Yea, yea, come on over, you know I won’t deny that.” You heard him sigh before his truck turned on in the background. “...I’ll see you in a moment?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “See you in a moment, Bugs.”

With that, you ended the call, knowing he won’t take any offense at the action. You felt nervous knowing that he was coming over, though you just chalked it up to the fact that you were coming down from admitting that you thought it was your fault that you didn’t come back until two weeks ago. You still believed it, but you were willing to put it aside because Jayce didn’t.

He got there a couple minutes after the call ended, and you were still sitting in the doorway of the living room, head turned to look at the front door as he knocked as he walked in, eyes falling to your form on the floor, head tilting curiously. “What’re ya doing on the floor, Bugs?”

“...Just sitting?” You said, glancing down at yourself before looking back up at him, your hand finding the hardwood as you pat the space next to you. “Sit on the floor, Bub.”

He smiled and breathed out a laugh, kicking his dirty boots off by the door before you noticed his hat when he took it off and set it off to the side on the table next to the door. “You have a hat.”

“It gets hot outside,” he said, turning back to you as he walked, moving to sit beside you, forearms uncovered by his flannel as he held them out. “And…well, fur.”

You rested a hand on one of his arms, watching as his eyes darted from you to his arm, your fingers running through the thick, brown fur, ears lifting when you talk, “Being a big puppy dog takes sacrifices, y’know.”

He rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly before allowing it to turn into a chuckle. “Is that all I am to you? A ‘big puppy dog’?”

“What if it is?” You asked, eyes meeting his. “Can’t call you a teddy bear, Jayce.”

Jayce smiled down at you before shaking his head, the thumping of his tail making his happiness obvious. “I suppose not, Bugs.”

You were about to let silence blanket the two of you before he spoke again, “About what we talked about on the phone…do ya really think goin’ off to college made not coming back your fault?”

Your expression fell and without having to nod, his large hands tugged you into his arms. Damn him and his stupid face reading skills. Your hands placed themselves on his chest and you moved your head to look back at his face. “Can you blame me?”

“Yes,” he answered. “It ain’t your fault. Phone works both ways.”

“You’re not gonna start blaming yourself, Jayce,” you said, almost scolding him for what he was implying. “‘M not gonna allow that.”

He tilted his head again and you started to feel a steady beat against your right hand, your fingers digging a little into his flannel. You felt tension wrap around your throat, practically suffocating you as your grip on his shirt got tighter and you forced out a quick, “...Please don’t hate me…”

Earning a confused expression from him, your eyes fluttered shut as you placed your lips on the front of his maw, hearing him pull in a breath before his tail thumped harshly against the floor. You pulled away less than a second later and you felt his hands dig into your shirt this time, his tail not stopping, even when he glanced back at it with an embarrassed look, turning back to you after a moment. “...Now where did that come from?”

“...Remember five years ago?...I said I wanted to give you something but I never did?” He nodded and you only gave him a look for it to click.

“That wasn’t-”

“It was,” you confirmed, cutting him off. “...School and work really makes you busy…”

His ears flatten on his head and he pressed the end of his snout against your cheek. “...’Fraid I can’t say the same, Bugs…”

You knew there was no way, but a pang of jealousy ran through you, wondering who did it instead?...Maybe it was even before you were eighteen. He was twenty when you left…

With a small nod, you attempted to move from his grasp, but he only pulled you closer. “Where’re you goin’? Can’t try to escape when you do something like that.”

“...So I didn’t just fuck our entire friendship up?” Jayce smiled at that before he moved his hands from your back to your arms, rubbing them gently.

“Look, I may not have saved myself or anything like that for ya, but when you left I was in tears for a reason, Bugs.” He gave you another ‘kiss’ on the side of your face. “I just hope ya didn’t think you needed to do that.”

“I didn’t,” you uttered, gaining a softer smile from him in response. “...Part of the reason why I felt so bad about leaving.”

“Well…you’re here now aren't cha?” You nodded. “Past doesn’t matter then. As long as you’re here, and you’re here to stay, I could care less about you leavin’ the first time.”

“You sure?” He nodded that time, smiling down at you.

“Mhm,” Jayce started, readjusting you so you weren’t in an uncomfortable position on the floor before he moved a hand to tug his phone from his pants pocket, “and it’s almost time for supper, think I could take you out?...Somewhere other than Marcus’ bar maybe?"

“…Give me ten minutes to get changed and ready and I’ll say yes.” He grinned at you, letting your arm go as you stood up and raced to the stairwell, hearing him laugh as you pulled in a breath, cheeks flushed, but you were so ready for what the future had in store for you now.

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the-bau-quinjet · 1 year

Text

Back to Me

Summary: Aaron needs you and Jack to come back to him.

Word Count: 8030

Warnings: kidnapping, CM type violence, guns

A/N: Not gonna lie, I love this story. I'm very obsessed with our dear Agent Hotchner right now. I might not be the best writer, but I am actually proud of the story :)

Masterlist

The sound of the lock in the door opening clued you into his arrival. You shifted slowly, not wanting to wake Jack as you climbed out of his bed. He had only just fallen asleep a few minutes ago as you finished reading him a story.

"Aaron?" you called quietly as you moved through the apartment to the front door. Just when you wrapped your arms around him, his phone started ringing.

"Hotchner," you stayed hugging him while the conversation played out. "I'll be there in an hour." He hung up, finally returning your embrace.

"Do you want me to wake Jack? Say hi before you have to leave again?" you asked, relishing in his embrace a little longer.

"No, better to let him sleep. The case is local, so I shouldn't be gone long." Aaron replied, stepping out of your arms and retrieving his bag. You followed him down the hall, watching as he unpacked and changed before getting ready to leave again.

"Hey," you stopped him on his way out of the bedroom. "I love you, okay?" He sighed in relief, stalling his exit to pull you back into another hug.

"I love you too. Thank you." After another moment, he stepped back. He kissed your forehead before turning to head back down the hallway and out the door.

You met Aaron a little over a year ago. You had just moved to DC for a new job and decided the farmer's market would be a fun change of pace.

"Thank you," you smiled at the woman selling produce before turning back to the rest of the market. You roamed aimlessly through the stalls, not looking for anything specific.

"Excuse me," you turned at the sound of a young voice, surprised to find a small boy trying to get your attention.

"Hi there," you smiled, squatting down to his level. "What's your name? Are you here alone?" you asked. The boy couldn't have been any older than six or seven.

"I'm Jack. I came with my daddy, but I can't find him. I just wanted to get some candy, cause there were free ones." He held out his hand to show you the candy.

"It's nice to meet you, Jack. I'm Y/N. what does your daddy look like? I can help you find him." You listened as he tried to explain his dad, but the description could mean anything. What does tall really mean to a six-year-old? All you really know is that he has dark hair. "Okay, what's your daddy's name?"

"Aaron!" he answered excitedly, proud to know the answer.

"Alright, let's start looking!"

You hadn't made it more than five steps before someone was anxiously scooping up the boy. The man looked relieved to find him, but Jack's reaction wasn't what you'd expected. He looked stiff in the man's arms.

"Jack! I told you not to leave my side," he spewed on and on about how happy he was to find him, Jack's face tucked into his shoulder.

"What's your name?" you were too skeptical of the situation to let him just walk away with Jack.

"Hm? Oh, Aaron," he smiled. "Thank you. For keeping him safe." He nodded toward Jack.

Despite his correct answer, something didn't feel right. Jack stressed that his dad's hair was dark. Sure, this guy has brown hair, but it wasn't exceptionally dark.

"Just a minute!" you called before he could walk away. You grabbed Jack out of his arms, catching the man off guard. "Jack, is this your dad?" He just shook his head, eyes wide.

"Hey! Give him back!" The man screamed, reaching for Jack. You turned away from him, shielding Jack with your body. "Give him to me you stupid bitch!"

His yelling only justified your decision. You leaned over Jack, protecting him from the man who you were now sure is not his father. Unbeknownst to you, the man's yelling caused quite a scene in the otherwise peaceful farmer's market.

"Jack!" You heard another voice yelling for Jack, but your adrenaline was pumping too much to let him go. The man was still reaching for Jack, hitting and scraping you. Jack's safety was now your top priority.

Eventually, someone pulled the man off you, but the yelling never stopped. He kept screaming "that's my son" or "give him to me" over and over. You could hear sirens in the distance, growing closer.

"Are you okay?" you leaned back just far enough to look Jack in the eye. He nodded his head, but you could easily tell how scared he was.

"Where's my dad?" he asked, voice shaking. You opened your mouth to respond when someone else started talking.

"Excuse me, ma'am? Could you explain what's going on?" you turned to see a uniformed officer asking you the question. Her partner was holding back the man who claimed to be Jack's father. You picked Jack up without even thinking about it, still feeling him shaking. You explained everything to the officer as quickly as you could, not wanting to put Jack through anything else.

While the officer wrote everything down, you finally had a chance to scan the newly amassed crowd. Jack looked with you, still anxiously searching for his father.

"There!" he pointed. "That's my dad! DAD!" You followed his line of sight, finally noticing a dark-haired man pushing his way through the crowd. "Daddy!"

Jack bounced with excitement as his dad got closer. When he finally reached you both, Jack practically jumped from your arms to get to him sooner. That is more like the reaction you expected.

You stepped back, letting the two of them greet each other. The officer asked you more questions, moving on to whom you could only assume was actually Aaron. You couldn't help but overhear his answers.

"I was putting my change away and when I turned around he was gone." He held tight to his son, barely looking at the officer asking the questions.

"Then I found that lady and she saved me from the bad man!" Jack chimed in, turning the focus back to you. You smiled at Jack.

"I'm just happy I could help."

Before you could say anything else, the police started talking again. They collected everyone's information, taking down everything they would need to call you in for a formal statement.

You shook Aaron's hand and said goodbye to Jack, assuming that would be it. You didn't fully realize how involved you would be in the case against the man who attempted to kidnap Jack. Thankfully, he took a plea, so you didn't have to testify in a trial.

Throughout the process, you saw Aaron and Jack a few more times. With each encounter, you learned more about the two of them. You found yourself looking forward to seeing them. When you received a call with the sentencing information, informing you the case was over, you found yourself mildly disappointed that you no longer had an excuse to see them.

That feeling was quickly followed by guilt. You would only serve to remind them of Jack's near kidnapping. Being free of you would only improve their lives and let them move on.

For a few months, that was it. You had thought your life was Hotchner-free. But, a chance encounter at a coffee shop changed everything.

"Y/N!" a young voice shouted your name causing you to turn around. Just as you finished spinning toward the sound, you felt the force of a six-year-old boy throwing his arms around you.

"Jack!" you nearly squealed, squatting down to hug him better. You looked around for Aaron, surprise covering your features when you couldn't see him. "Where's your dad?"

Jack paused, looking around with you. "I don't know. He... he was right behind me. But then I saw you in here so I ran to get you!"

"Well, let's go find him." You held out your hand for Jack, carrying your coffee in the other. Just a few steps later, Aaron was running into the store. He stopped short when he saw you with Jack.

"You must think I'm a terrible father," Aaron sighed.

"Not at all," you smiled, leading Jack toward him.

"You're a great daddy!" Jack chimed in, eager to calm his father's fears.

"Thank you, buddy. I need you to stop running away from me," he smiled down at his son, taking his hand from you.

"But you said to stay with adults I know, and I know Y/N!" Jack explained.

"That's right, bud. You do know me." You smiled at Jack, trying to keep this light-hearted despite the serious potential consequences. "But, you shouldn't run away from your dad. He worries about you, so you should tell him where you're going. Then he can help keep you safe." Jack nodded, hanging on your every word.

"Daddy, can Y/N come with us to lunch?" Jack asked, bouncing with excitement. It seems you weren't the only one missing your time together. Aaron looked at you, the question clear in his eyes. You smiled, a slight nod showing your agreement.

"I don't know. You'll have to ask her." Aaron smiled slightly, encouraging his son to actually ask you instead.

"Y/N, do you want to come to lunch with us?" Jack asked, more shyly than when he questioned his dad.

"I'd love to buddy. Let's go."

It didn't take much for you to fully fall for Aaron, especially when you started loving Jack along with him. You grew closer every moment you spent together, and eventually confessed your feelings toward each other. A few months ago, Aaron asked you to move in with them.

It wasn't unusual for cases to happen back to back like this. The last case took a little over a week, but that meant nothing when another case popped up immediately. At least with a local case, you've got a chance of seeing Aaron at night. However, returning to work this late could only mean emergent attention was needed. You hated to think what that meant.

Instead of dwelling on it, you checked to make sure Jack was still asleep before getting ready for bed yourself. You followed your nightly routine methodically, still trying to clear your head of what Aaron could possibly be facing.

Everything was completely normal when you finally settled into bed. You checked on Jack one more time while you turned off the hall lights, then laid down in bed to read. You were just a few pages from the end of a chapter when you heard a noise down the hall.

"Jack?" you asked, walking down the hall. You looked in his bed, glad to see him still asleep. You heard another sound in the kitchen just as you shut the door to Jack's bedroom. "Aaron?" you called.

You continued down the hall, eager to see Aaron again so soon but nervous about what it could mean for the case. Just as you turned to enter the kitchen, you felt a sharp pain across your forehead. Then, everything faded to black.

You groaned as you woke up. The pain in your head made your thoughts foggy. You reached to rub the spot that hurt, but your arms were stuck behind your back. The restriction of your movement jolted you to the present, reminding you of the events before you lost consciousness.

"Jack," you whispered, anxiously looking around the room. No light streamed in from windows near the ceiling of the warehouse-type building you were being held in, so you knew it couldn't have been long. There were crates and boxes strewn about the room, some covered in canvas cloths.

You pushed yourself across the floor toward the nearest stack of crates, stretching as far as you could to pull the cloth off. Dust floated through the air, the cloth falling over your head. You moved desperately across the floor trying to rid yourself of the covering.

Finally getting free, you pushed yourself back toward the crates. You searched the edges, looking for anything rough enough to help you get rid of the tape. The rough concrete floor tore at your skin as you pushed further and further to search the other edges.

On your third try, you found a nail sticking out of the corner near the very bottom. Getting into the correct position was harder than you expected, and you scraped your hands and wrists in your efforts to cut the tape. Still, you managed to free your hands enough to rip through the last of the bindings. You quickly used your newly freed hands to tear the tape from your ankles as well. Slowly, you rose to your feet. You could feel your limbs were weak after being restrained.

You crept toward the door quietly. Before opening it, you listened for the sound of anyone on the other side. You could hear a faint whining, but no other movement. You winced at the sound of the door opening, but you moved through the doorway anyway. Jack was in the corner, his hands and feet bound similarly to your own, but with tape over his mouth.

"Jack," you rushed toward him. You removed the tape as carefully, but quickly, as possible. "Are you okay?" He nodded, but the tears in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "Come with me."

You grabbed his hand, again looking around the room in an attempt to escape. There was only one other door in the room making for an easy decision. Once again, you stopped at the door to listen for anything on the other side. When you didn't hear anything you slowly pushed through the door. You pulled Jack behind you, trying to keep him out of harm's way.

The new room looked just like the previous two, with one more door on the far side. Listening for noise on the other side, you could hear footsteps coming toward the door. You pushed Jack behind a stack of crates, ducking down with him just as the door flew open.

"FBI, show yourself!" A voice you'd never heard before called through the dust.

"Oh, thank God. Jack, let's go." You picked him up and ran toward the agent paying no mind to your weary limbs or the fact that Jack really was too big to be carried. "Where's Aaron?"

"He's checking another site, please come with me." The man guided you out of the warehouse and to a running SUV. You climbed in the back with Jack still holding him close to you.

"Where are the people who took us?" you asked, wanting to be sure you and Jack were safe.

"My colleagues took them in just a few minutes ago. We found them in the front of the warehouse. It's nice to finally put a face to the name, Y/N" he continued.

"Oh, of course! It's nice to meet you..." you drifted off, clearly waiting for a name.

"Derek. Derek Morgan," he supplied. You felt Jack squeeze your hand, but you attributed it to nerves.

"Well, thank you, Derek. You're alone here?" you questioned curiously. It didn't make sense for an agent not to have a partner.

"Like I said," he started. "My colleagues left to take in the men who took you." Once again, you felt Jack squeeze your hand. This time, you turned toward him.

"What's up, buddy? Derek is taking us to your dad." You tried to smile, but it was clear to both of you that it was a little forced. Jack shook his head as you spoke, gesturing for you to lean in closer.

"That's not Derek," he whispered, eyes wide.

"What?" you asked, although you heard him clearly. "But then..." Your adrenaline started pumping as you realized the precarious position you now found yourself in. "It's okay Jack. I'll figure this out."

"I don't think you will, Y/N. I don't think you will." The man driving cut the act. "I have to say, you weren't supposed to get out of the restraints. How'd you manage?" You ground your teeth to hold in your rapidly fluctuating emotions. "Oh, that's okay. I'll use something stronger than the buffoons who took you. Idiots."

Your mind was reeling as you tried to remember everything you knew about self-defense and how you might lead Aaron to you. A secondary location was bad enough, but a secondary kidnapping? One who you left with voluntarily? There won't be anything at the scene to tell them where to go... If you're going to get out of this, you have to do it yourself.

"What are we doing here?" Morgan asked, his exhaustion giving way to frustration.

"Tori Fallon, age 6, was reported missing an hour ago. She was taken from her bedroom after her parents read her a story." JJ filled in the team as Hotch walked through the door.

"What do we know?" he asked, not one to waste time on pleasantries.

"The window was broken and there was a note left," JJ added.

"From a chained accommodation, I see a desert with monuments built by the hands of an adolescent." Spencer read the riddle, pausing only momentarily to think. "A playground. Is there a playground she went to frequently?"

"Let's find out, she lives 25 minutes from here. Let's go," Rossi chimed in, already rising from his seat.

"A playground?" Emily questioned as they walked to the SUVs.

"A chained accommodation is a swing, the desert a sandbox. Children build sandcastles or 'monuments' in the sand." Reid shot back.

"Dave, take Morgan and see if you can find anything at the house. JJ, go with them and talk to the family. Reid, Prentiss, we'll head to the playground."

The team all nodded with a newfound focus driven by the motivation to find the missing girl. It didn't take more than half an hour for Hotch to pull the SUV to a stop in the playground parking lot.

"Check the swings and the sandbox. He might've left another clue," Hotch instructed, one hand on his weapon and the other holding his flashlight.

"Hello?" a young girl called out, her voice clearly terrified. "I did what you said!" she cried.

"Tori? We're with the police, where are you?" Emily called while Hotch and Reid followed through with the original plan.

"I'm in the slide!" she called, her voice more urgent. "You have to get me out, those were his rules!" Emily rushed to her, quick to check the slide was clear before climbing inside to help Tori. Hotch and Reid met them as they climbed out. Tori was completely fine, although still terrified.

"You're parents are on the way. They'll be here soon." Hotch tried to reassure her. "Whose rules?"

"The man you took me here. He said to stay in the slide until the police came to get me out. Or else he would hurt my mommy and daddy." She was still shaking in Emily's arms as her parents pulled up to the playground. JJ, Morgan, and Rossi walked up to the rest of the team, the question clear on their faces.

"Why kidnap a child and leave her completely fine at the playground 5 minutes away?" Rossi voiced the obvious.

"Reid." Hotch nodded to him and Spencer held up the note he found in the sandbox.

"For this," he unfolded the note, all eyes on him. "Lost something?"

"That's it?" Morgan asked, incredulous.

"No, there's a picture..." Reid turned the page around to show the team. It wasn't a recent picture, although Hotch was the only one who could tell with absolute certainty when it was from. You were squatting so you could be at eye level with the young boy you were talking to. The concern on your face was evident, but you were clearly smiling to appease the child. Hotch remembered that day. How could he forget? He nearly lost Jack and met you in the process.

He had his phone in his hand, speed-dial assisting him to make the call before anyone else had looked up from the image on display. "Answer the phone... Answer dammit!"

When the phone went to voicemail, Hotch immediately started moving. He gestured for the team to follow, but didn't bother waiting to see if they would. Dave and Emily got in the car with Aaron. Morgan, Reid, and JJ followed in the other SUV.

"Garcia,' he started when the next call connected. "I need a visual on my apartment building. I can't reach Y/N or Jack. Look out for a white male, dark hair, 5'9". Name is Tucker Landry."

"Running background as we speak." The sounds of Garcia rapidly typing could be heard in the silence. Hotch was already ten minutes from his apartment. "I've got the footage, sir. Two men, both white, but blonde."

"Dammit!" Hotch hit the wheel, his desperation leaking through. "I can't do this again, Dave. I can't lose them."

"You won't," he promised. "Garcia, track their car."

"Already on it, sir. I've followed them four miles north, but they're about to leave the city limits." She continued typing, tracking the car while simultaneously running the check on Landry.

"Find him," Hotch ordered. Meanwhile, he pulled up outside his apartment building. Despite knowing what he would find inside, he ran from the car. Forgoing the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time up the three flights to his apartment. The door was ajar, and drops of blood littered the hallway.

Rossi and Emily pushed past him into the apartment, clearing the rooms as they searched. Hotch stood paralyzed at the entrance, too stuck in the thoughts of what he could find to force himself through the door.

"All clear, they aren't here," Dave called from the kitchen. When no response came, he moved back to the door. "She's not here, Aaron. By the looks of it, they took them both alive."

Hearing that he still had a chance was what he needed to jolt him into action. He was back down the stairs before Morgan pulled the other SUV to the curb.

"What are we looking at?" Morgan asked, JJ and Reid coming around the other side of the SUV.

"Home abduction, minimal blood. Garcia tracked the car north but lost them at the edge of the city." As Rossi filled everyone in, Hotch was already profiling.

"He was opportunistic last time he tried to take Jack. He's not organized enough to coordinate this." Once again, he had his phone in his hand. "Garcia, did you find any properties in his name?"

"Yes, sir. I was about to dial you myself. Tucker Landry's father owned an old warehouse 10 miles north of the city. When his business went belly up, the warehouse was abandoned. Coordinates are already sent."

The warehouse appeared abandoned when they arrived, but that was nothing new. "Morgan, Prentiss go around back. Dave, JJ check for a side entrance. Reid, you're with me." Hotch ordered his team, already on the way inside.

With each room cleared, his anxiety worsened. His need to find you and Jack was nearly overwhelming. Finally, they entered a room, coming face to face with Derek and Emily.

"Back here!" JJ called. "There's duct tape and drops of blood. It looks fresh."

"They were here recently," Dave added. "It looks like she cut herself out of the binding on a nail."

"This is disorganized. So where are they?" Hotch paced, his mind running a mile a minute but coming up with no answers.

"Two bodies out back, looks like the blondes from the surveillance footage," Emily supplied.

"Why lead us here only to take them somewhere else?" JJ questioned.

"The riddle, the 'fake' but real kidnapping to get you out of the apartment, the picture we found there... It's all been about the chase. He wants to feel the power he wasn't able to last time." Reid spoke quickly, trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"He can't have meant for Y/N to get out of the tape. He might have a plan, but it's not very well thought through." Just as JJ finished talking, Morgan's phone started ringing.

"Babygirl," Morgan started, but he was quickly interrupted.

"Were they there? Are they okay?" Penelope jumped in, the need to know overwhelming her.

"They must have been here recently, but they're gone. We found the blondes, dead. Is there anywhere else he could take them?" he asked.

"The other reason for my call, although I was hoping you wouldn't need it. Landry's father died a few weeks ago. He left Tucker the house in his will. The paperwork hasn't all been filed because he should still be in prison, which is why I missed it on the first pass."

"Coordinates?"

"Already sent. Go get them." Penelope hung up, nervously looking for any more information she could find just in case. The rest of the team split up once more, hoping this would be the ride that lead to your and Jack's safe return.

Jack was bound, tape over his mouth, in the opposite corner of the room. You could still hear him crying, the tears pouring down his small cheeks. This time, he locked you both in a bedroom.

After forcing you and Jack into the room at gunpoint, he made you zip-tie Jack and cover his mouth with more duct tape. He then forced you to bind your own legs before quickly binding your hands. Still, he followed your example and bound your hands in front of you like you did to Jack.

With all the force you could muster, you pushed your hands out and pulled them toward you as fast as you could, pushing your wrists apart on the inswing. It took a few tries, but eventually, you felt the plastic snap. The ties around your feet were harder. Maneuvering closer to the bed, you pushed yourself up until you could cross one foot over the other. Then, you tried to sit down, flattening your ankles. Once again, you felt the plastic give.

Before you could move to free Jack, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs. You quickly moved back to your original position, laying the zip ties around your arms and legs as if they were still attached. At the last second, you gestured for Jack to close his eyes.

Finally, he opened the door and walked into the room with the same level of casualty you'd expect of an old woman on a Sunday stroll. He glanced at you and Jack, clearly pleased you hadn't been able to escape his supposedly superior binding- seems he wasn't much smarter than the so-called buffoons that kidnapped you first.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't cover your mouth." He started talking, and you had to force yourself not to roll your eyes. "Now we can finally talk," he smirked. "Do you remember me?" he waited. You squinted at him, trying to recognize any of the features. "Stupid bitch, just like before."

The words triggered a memory. Suddenly, you were back to leaning over Jack, protecting him from an onslaught of force from the man you knew not to be his father.

'Tucker," you whispered, involuntarily glancing at Jack. Thankfully, he didn't seem to recognize the man or the name.

"And she finally gets it!" he laughs. "You ruined my life. That boy," he points at Jack, "was my ticket out! Out of debt. Out of the country. OUT!" You didn't need to be a profiler to notice he was manic and devolving. "You know, when they gave me the task I thought that was it. There was no way I could figure out how to steal a child. And, boom, then he walked right past me, unaccompanied. But of course, you had to RUIN IT!"

He punctuated this most recent fit by hitting you across the face with the butt of his gun. You winced but still waited for the right opportunity.

"They broke me out of jail to finish the job. You see, bookies don't take kindly to getting stiffed, especially not the kind I've dealt with." Finally, his whole story made sense. "I had him! This would've been so much easier if you just stayed out of it." The sound of his laughing would haunt you for the rest of your life. "And now? Now you get to watch as I get the money I need, and I'm gonna use that kid-"

He turned as he spoke, gesturing to Jack with his empty hand. You took the opportunity to strike, your fear for your own life and Jack's life taking over.

Dating Aaron had many perks, but knowing how to defend yourself was possibly the most important thing he taught you. It was easy enough to surprise him, knocking into him hard enough to get him to drop the gun. Using the momentum to your advantage, you hit him in the solar plexus with the butt of your hand - no harm in falling back on knowledge older than your relationship with Aaron. Miss Congeniality was there for you when he wasn't.

When he fell backward, you quickly stooped to pick up the gun. Standing firmly, you braced yourself the way Aaron taught you, careful to stand at an angle that allowed you to point the gun at Tucker without having Jack in the background.

Tucker stood casually despite the gun aimed at his chest. His glare never left his eyes, but the pretentious smirk on his face clued you in. He was still underestimating you.

"You don't have it in you to shoot me."

You pulled the trigger with no hesitation. The bullet knocked him back to the ground, blood leaking from the chest wound. You could only hope Jack listened to your earlier warning and closed his eyes. You stood frozen, gun still pointed at Tucker for a moment. He was still looking at you when you saw the light leave his eyes.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing. The noise was enough to jolt you into action. If he was trying to sell Jack, then it's possible other people were on the way to the house right now. You made sure to click the safety on before stuffing the gun in the back of your pants like you see in movies.

You found yourself chuckling at how Aaron would definitely yell at you for bad form but now wasn't the time. Without a knife, you weren't sure how to free Jack without hurting him. Instead, you removed the tape from his mouth and carried him out of the room.

"It's okay. I'm gonna get you out of these and we're gonna drive away until we're safe and can call your dad, okay?" Jack just nodded, tears giving way to panic. Your frantic movements likely weren't helping, but you were running on pure adrenaline.

Making it down the stairs with Jack was difficult, but not impossible. Then, it was just a matter of finding the kitchen and using a small knife to cut through the zip ties. The fake FBI vest Tucker wore to "rescue" you was sitting on the counter. It might not be FBI issue, but maybe it is actually bulletproof. You slipped it over Jack's head and tightened the straps as best as you could without wasting too much time.

Thankfully, Tucker threw his keys on the counter as well, so you were able to grab those and head for the front door. Just before you could actually open the door, headlights shone through the windows and you froze.

"Let's go out the back, okay?" you grabbed Jack's hand and the two of you took off. You knew the house backed up to the woods from the ride in, so you ran until you and Jack had enough trees between you and the house to offer cover. You were close enough to see the people running into the house, but you couldn't quite hear them.

"Okay, this could be the actual police. But, it's only two cars... real police would bring SWAT and ambulances."

You sat with Jack behind the trees, holding him close while you tried to think of a plan. Running to the car would almost certainly end poorly. Staying in the woods would only work for so long. You glanced around the tree, thankful that the people inside left their headlights on. You could see clearly all the way down the driveway.

"Alright Jack, here's the plan: we're gonna steal one of their cars. They parked further down the driveway, so if we sneak through the woods we can reach the car without running into the open. Okay?" Jack nodded, his hand gripping yours tightly.

The two of you started making your way as quickly as you could manage with the limited light. As far as you could tell, the people were still looking for you inside- you could see their flashlights in the upstairs windows. About halfway to the car, you heard the back door bang open.

One of them was yelling, but over the sound of your own heart beating and the crunch of leaves under your feet, you could barely hear them. You pulled Jack a little harder, trying to reach the car faster now that the people were outside.

"They have to be here somewhere, fan out!" Aaron screamed, his panic clearly showing through. He took off toward the woods leaving the rest of his team to follow. "Please, Y/N. Please. I need you to be okay. I need you to have Jack. I just... I need it." Aaron muttered, desperately scanning the woods with his flashlight for any sign of you and Jack.

He was so deep into the woods he could barely see the house when he just barely heard Morgan yelling. His heart nearly stopped and for a minute he froze. Then, he ran.

"C'mon, Jack! We're nearly there," you whispered, still holding each other's hands tightly. When you were finally level with one of the SUVs, you wasted barely a glance before jumping out. One of the people was definitely headed in your direction, so you needed to move quickly.

You threw open the backseat, forcing Jack into the car and quickly the door. Already on the driver's side, you threw open your door as well. You could hear the closest person yelling, this time near enough to hear his words.

"Stop! FBI!"

You didn't let the claim phase you, instead hoisting yourself into the car and slamming your own door shut. "Jack, you buckled?" you asked, fastening your own seatbelt.

"Yeah," he whimpered, still terrified.

"Okay, close your eyes again buddy. I'm gonna keep you safe." You threw the car into reverse, whipping around only to find two other people in FBI vests waiting for you. An older man with a beard and a young blonde woman stood in front of you, guns in hand but not pointed at you. You could see the man who yelled running toward the SUV in your rear-view mirror.

Indecision coursed through you. You'd already taken one life today and these people were strangers. The gun you took from Tucker sat on the passenger seat, but you knew a car was a better weapon. You shifted into drive and pressed the gas, praying these two would just get out of the way. When the two realized you weren't going to stop, they jumped to the side, giving you a clear path out.

It was only when you reached the street that you realized you had no idea where you actually were. It was easy enough to remember the way back to the main road, but everything after that is a blur. It only took a few minutes for the other SUV to catch up to you.

You could feel the panic beginning to set in as you sped down the road. You couldn't see any turn-offs and the road was deserted. The people following you were going to catch up. The question was, what were you going to do about it?

"Who was that?" JJ asked, not bothering to dust the dirt from her pants before running with Morgan and Rossi to the other SUV.

"Call Hotch. That was Y/N and Jack," Morgan filled in as he started driving.

"You're sure?" Rossi questioned. When Derek merely nodded, he pulled out his phone. "Aaron, we found them. Y/N's a fighter. She managed to steal one of the SUVs, Jack's in the backseat."

"Where are you?" Aaron felt his panic subside, but he knew he wouldn't be fully calm until he had them in his arms again.

"We're following about a mile back, but she's in fight or flight. If her instincts said running was the safest bet, you can be sure she won't stop until she has to." Dave answered, doing his best to help calm Aaron's fears.

"So, how do we get her to calm down if we can't contact her?" JJ posited.

"She'll calm down if I'm there. I know she will," Aaron was quick to answer, but Rossi was just as fast.

"If we turn back now, we'll lose sight of her. If she thinks we can track the car, she'll ditch it. Aaron, where would she go?"

"Guys..." Morgan nodded toward your car, noting its declining pace. He slowed with you, maintaining the distance. Suddenly, you pulled a 180 and slammed to a stop and they watched as Jack ran from the car into the woods. "What the hell?"

"She wouldn't separate the two of them without good reason. Stop here," Dave instructed as they pulled up about 30 feet away. To their surprise, you got out on your own and stood behind the car door.

You needed a plan and you needed it quickly. Looking around the car, for anything that could help, you finally noticed a phone in the cupholder. Calling Aaron would help your nerves, but he couldn't help you fast enough. You needed a plan now.

"Jack, I'm gonna pull over. When I do, you have to take this phone and run into the woods," you started forming a plan, but Jack wasn't having it.

"I don't wanna leave you!" he cried, tears once again pouring down his face.

"I know, buddy. I know! I need you to be brave. I just need you to run and hide and call 911, okay? I'll stay near the car to keep the bad guys from following you. Then the police and your daddy will come to help us, okay? Can you do that for me? Can you call for help?" you hated putting this kind of pressure on him, but it was your only idea to keep him safe.

"I can do it," he said through tears, gripping the phone tightly when you passed it to him.

"You're so brave, Jack. Your dad is gonna be here soon," you could only hope you were telling the truth. "Don't come back out to me until you hear the police sirens, okay? Are you ready?"

After a few deep breaths, he whispered that he was and you slowed the car. Confident that they weren't going to speed up to crash into you, you whipped the car around and put it in park. Jack followed your plan precisely, running from the car as quickly as his little legs could carry him.

You quickly checked the bullets in your gun counting only five. It would have to do. Without much thought for how insane the entire situation was, you threw open your door and took cover behind it. Gun in hand, you watched the other car just sitting there while praying for the sound of sirens.

After a moment, the three people exited their SUV and stood in a similar fashion to you.

"Y/N, we just want to talk! We work with Aaron!" The older one yelled to you. You could tell the younger one who first yelled at you wanted to follow Jack into the woods.

"Don't come any closer!" you screamed back. "If you work with him, then why isn't he here?"

You know Aaron wouldn't give up the chance to find you. He wouldn't let himself be left behind, not when Jack and you were on the line. You won't fall for this again.

"He's back at the house," the blonde one chimed in. "He was searching the woods for you when you managed to escape."

You started shaking your head before she finished her sentence. After everything you and Jack had been through, you stubbornly refused to believe he had been so close and you missed him.

"We're FBI. We're here to help." The older one started yelling again, but you didn't know what to believe. "I have Aaron on the phone."

You had no idea if he was telling the truth, and no plan came to mind to get the phone without putting yourself in danger. But if Aaron really was on the phone...

"What are your names?" you asked. Even after a year together, Aaron was still too anxious to actually introduce you to the FBI world. Despite never meeting his team, he has told you plenty of stories about them.

"My name is Jennifer Jureau, friends call me JJ." Her voice was calm as she spoke.

"Derek Morgan," the younger man added and you sobbed. You could hear the older man giving his name, but you couldn't understand them. It was the same name. You had no way of knowing if they were telling the truth.

"Why don't you let me get Jack out of the woods? He's probably scared," the man claiming to be Derek called, already moving toward the woods.

"No. No!" Your hands shook as you lifted the gun. "Don't go anywhere near him! I'll shoot! You saw Tucker!"

"Gun!" One of them yelled and they all jumped back behind the doors.

"Y/N, we just want to talk. Tell us how we can convince you."

Aaron was still on the phone with Dave, listening as they tried to calm you down. Emily holding him back was the only thing stopping him from chasing after you on foot.

"I should be there, dammit!" he screamed, pacing.

"She's safe, Hotch. We called for backup," Reid started, but screaming on the other end of the phone stopped everyone.

"Gun! Y/N, we just want to talk. Tell us how we can convince you!"

Dave must've shifted the phone to speaker and set it on the car because Aaron could hear you yelling this time.

"That's what he said!" Your voice was raw and shaking and his heart broke a little more. "He said he was there to help and he lied. He lied! Where's Aaron? I just want Aaron."

Finally, the local police pulled into the driveway. Emily and Spencer stayed behind to fill in the officers. Aaron practically jumped into the first squad car that pulled up to the house, paying no mind to the police that just left the vehicle. He used Emily's phone to follow the GPS coordinates Penelope sent once the two SUVs stopped moving.

"I just want Aaron," you practically sobbed. You hastily rubbed your cheeks to rid yourself of the tears. You were so close, you couldn't give up now. You were still trying to come up with a plan when you finally heard sirens approaching.

Jack ran to you from the woods when the first squad car pulled up. You threw the gun to the ground and wrapped Jack as tightly as you could. Everyone was approaching you, but you only had eyes for Jack.

"You're okay? Does anything hurt?" you asked him, eyes running over his entire body.

"I'm okay," he started. He was going to continue when his eyes lit up. "Uncle Dave!" He ran from your arms to hug the older man from the other SUV. "Uncle Morgan! Aunt JJ!" He hugged them all before returning to you.

You felt renewed tears when you realized what Jack's reaction meant. "You're actually FBI? Aaron... Aaron's at the house?"

"He's on the way here now," the real Derek Morgan filled you in.

"I- I'm sorry I pointed a gun at you," you swallowed, hugging Jack again while you spoke. The relief of finally being safe was setting in and you realized how exhausted you were.

Before any of the agents could reply, another squad car screeched to a halt. The door was opened practically before the car was fully stopped.

"Aaron," you whispered just as Jack screamed, "Dad!"

Aaron was to you and Jack before either of you could take a step. For a few minutes, he just held you both.

"Daddy! I called the police and you came! Just like Y/N said," Jack was all smiles now that everything was over. He would obviously need to work through all of the trauma experienced in the last six hours, but right now he's just glad to be with his dad.

"Of course I did, buddy," he answered, still holding the two of you. "I'll always come for you. Both of you," he squeezed tighter before looking between the two of you. There were uncharacteristic tears brimming in his eyes and his voice betrayed the emotion he was clearly experiencing.

"Jack, why don't we take you over to the ambulance to get checked out? I'll stay with you," Dave guided him over, removing the too-big bulletproof vest as they went.

"Where did you get a vest?" Aaron tried to smile at the adorable image of Jack in an oversized vest, but it vanished when you sobbed into him.

"I'm so sorry, Aaron. I'm so sorry. I wanted to get him out and I walked right into his trap. Tuck- Tucker pretended to be FBI, said the rest of his team took in the guys who kidnapped us and you were searching another potential site. I, I shouldn't have gone with him. I should've known. I-"

"It's not your fault," Aaron cut you off. "You kept him safe. You got him out," he comforted you.

"He," you hiccuped. "He said he was going to sell Jack to pay off his debts. After I... I killed him..." you trailed off. You were only now coming to terms with the events that transpired. "I didn't know if the people coming into the house were the buyers. I didn't know if you'd be able to find us when he took us to a tertiary location. I had to get away. Once I got Jack to safety I was going to call you, but then we were being followed."

"You don't have to go through this now," Aaron interrupted the story, trying anything to get you to stop shaking.

"I do," you insisted trying to get through it quickly. "I found a phone in the car," you started up again, wiping your cheeks. "I asked Jack to run into the woods and call 911 so he wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. I thought... I was willing to kill them if they tried to take Jack," you sobbed.

"I never wanted you to have to do that, but I need you to know how proud I am of you," Aaron soothed, and you managed to choke back your tears enough to listen to him. "I know you did everything to protect Jack. You fought and you bled and you did what you had to to make sure both of you came back to me," his voice broke as he finished the sentence.

"You came for us too," you breathed out. You held each other for another moment before Jack came running back.

"Uncle Dave says it's your turn to get checked," Jack grabbed your hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Jack. I'm just so happy that you're okay, and that your dad is here," you squeezed his hand back. He pulled you toward the ambulance and Aaron followed along. They both stood with you while you got cleaned up, Jack still holding your hand. With these two by your side, you knew you'd be okay.

Taglist:

Permanent: @averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @strawberryspence @ellobruv

CM: @mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain @justreadingficsdontmindme

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch #hotch criminal minds #criminal minds fic #hotch fic

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jackhues · 2 months

Note

keith called lilah a mistake??

it was during lilah and brady's tea party

"uncle brady, the belle cape is too small for you," lilah sighed, unclipping it from around his neck. "your head is too big."

brady made an offended sound, "you know... i don't have to wear the hood. and my head's not big, that's made for a three year old."

"i'm four."

brady opened his mouth, but closed it as delilah began humming the bluey theme song. he laughed to himself, shaking his head. that girl and her bluey.

delilah continued rummaging through her chest of costumes, finally finding the cape she was looking for.

"here, uncle brady, try this one!" she waved the elsa cape in the air.

"okay, fine."

brady clipped the cape to his t-shirt, standing up and showing off the new cape to her.

"nice, huh?" he asked her.

"you're a stud!" she gave him two thumbs up. "now let me put my ladybug costume on and we can have a tea party."

she grabbed her costume and ran out of the playroom, towards the living room where her dad and grandparents were.

"ladybug costume?" brady repeated. "that doesn't fit the theme."

delilah giggled at his comment, choosing not to respond and let him wait in confusion instead. she found her dad in conversation with her grandpa on the couch, probably something about hockey.

holding her costume in her hands, she waited patiently by the door of the living room for her dad to finish his conversation. but of course, it was as if he had a sixth sense to anything she wanted.

he turned around, catching her standing with her costume in her hands.

"come here, my del," he called her over. "let me help you with that."

"thank you daddy," she smiled happily, putting her arms up so he could slip the top over her head.

matthew slipped the wings on her next, and then tied up the hood that had her antennas.

"all good?" he asked her.

"all good," she agreed. "oh, and, and, uncle brady's wearing the elsa cape you like, the belle one didn't fit his head. so you might want to wash it after today."

"the blue and white elsa one?" matthew groaned. "ugh, okay, yeah i'll have to wash that. uncle brady's probably going to stink it all up, isn't he?"

delilah giggled, "i'm not answering that!"

keith watched the two of them, surprised that matthew was this gentle... this loving towards her. a year ago, he wanted nothing to do with her.

"wow, i didn't realize how much can change in a year," he muttered, more to himself, but just loud enough for matthew to hear.

he tilted his head to look at his dad, a clear message in eyes - 'not right now.'

"yeah, i grew a lot," delilah agreed. "daddy says i'm gonna be taller than him if i keep eating my veggies. i don't want to be taller than him, so i don't eat them."

"yeah, i see how that backfired," matthew muttered.

"it's good to be taller than your dad," keith told delilah, flicking the antennas on her cap playfully. "that way, you get to boss him around."

"really?"

"why don't you go back to your tea party with uncle brady?" matthew suggested. "otherwise he might start chomping on your table."

"oh no," delilah muttered, realizing what a big mistake she'd made, leaving brady alone in there. she ran back to the playroom, silently hoping brady didn't eat any of her toys.

once she was gone, matthew turned back to his dad.

"seriously?" he asked him.

"what?" keith asked.

"were you seriously going to bring up her mom right now?" matthew asked. "the whole 'so much changes in a year' comment? there's a reason we don't talk about her time there, she doesn't like it."

"woah, hey, i wasn't about to bring up her mom," keith defended himself. "i wouldn't hurt lilah like that, i know she doesn't like it. i was talking about you."

"me?"

"how much you started caring for her," he clarified. "a year ago you saw her as a mis-"

"boys, lunch!" chantelle called from matthew's kitchen.

"she's my daughter," matthew said firmly. "a year ago, i was an idiot who didn't like thinking about his kid. but she was the greatest thing to come to this world, she always has been."

#naqia writes!#naqia's au's!#delilah's world! au #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine

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hoedamn-eron · 4 months

Text

baby, please - part 17

It's your first Christmas without your family, but Santiago makes it up to you.

Warnings: Mega heavy on Christmas talk. Mentions of pregnancy complications from the previous chapter. Mentions of shitty in-laws. Gabrielle isn't actually in it, but she's being a bit distant but you know. It's fine. Lot's of dialogue, again. Not proofread whatsoever. Santi and Frankie have an argument we're not privvy to. Word count: 4,724 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Apologies this is late, but here is Christmas with Santi! I did mention it in a post, but I'll mention it again here: please be aware that part 18 won't be posted until 11/01 (11th January) due to a busy Christmas period. I need to catch up with myself, and I start a new job in the New Year, so I won't be to write as much as I was able to before.

Edited because Gabs isn't married to Andy, she's married to Matthew 😂 it's Courtney who is married to Andy! Now I'm going to have to double check all of my chapters to see if everyone is married to the correct person 😂

Part 16 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 18

You’d been taking it easy since your stay at the hospital a few weeks ago.

You took less responsibilities at work (your friends wanted you to cut down on your hours, but you just couldn’t do that), and you begrudgingly accepted the help of others to help you pack for your move next month. Speaking of your friends, they’d been checking in on you multiple times a week, and every time, you tell them you’re fine. Really.

The twins were fine. You were fine. Everyone was fine.

“You have a case of placenta previa.”

You look at Dr Montgomery, confused, from your place on the ultrasound table. “What’s that?”

“Your placenta is low, and covering the cervix,” she replied, looking at the screen as she pressed a few keys on the keyboard, then moving the wand over your bump. “Usually, it’s detected at your 20-week ultrasound, but it must have been missed, especially since you’re having twins.”

“Is it...is everyone okay, is it dangerous?”

“It can be risky, but we’ll keep an eye on you,” Dr Montgomery said. “The bleeding was caused by this, and stress. You’ll need to come back for another ultrasound at 32 to 33 weeks. It may have moved on its own by then, but otherwise, we may have to look at a caesarean birth at 37 weeks.”

“What? No! I wanted to go as natural as possible,” you say, your eyes widening. You had a plan! “I can’t be out of commission for 6 weeks with twins!”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you wanted, but I strongly advise you look into it,” she replies, giving you a sympathetic look before turning off the machine. “I also recommend you take it easy if you can. I’m not saying strict bed rest, but just...relax a bit more.”

So that’s what you’ve done...you’ve relaxed. You’ve downloaded a kick counting app, something you should have done a while ago, so you could count the kicks from the babies, just in case. So far, they’d been back to normal – and by ‘normal’, you mean they were using your bladder as a soccer ball, with a shot to the kidneys every now and then.

Santi had arrived in the hospital just as Dr Montgomery had given you the okay to go home. Beth had left just after the results of your ultrasound (at your insistence), so you were packing your bag as Santi ran into your room, breathless and eyes wide. You’d looked at him with equally as wide eyes, before you hurriedly caught him up, telling him everything was okay, that you just needed to take it easy.

You introduced him to Dr Montgomery, who explained the situation a little better. It calmed Santi down a little, but you still noticed him tapping his foot as he nodded along, his hands resting on his hips as he listened intently. He kept glancing at you, as if you would collapse or suddenly disappear.

He gave you a lift home (in his truck) and insisted he stay for dinner. He cooked some food for the both of you, and you both ate on your couch, Santi wanting to know every detail to what happened. He apologised again and again for not being there, but you told him it was Thanksgiving weekend, you don’t blame him for not being there. No-one could predict what would have happened.

Dr Montgomery had booked you in for another scan a few days before Christmas. Santi insisted on going with you, which you were grateful for, of course. Unfortunately, your placenta hadn’t moved much, and you were booked in for a c-section for the end of January.

You sulked as you walked out of the hospital, pouting.

Santi gave you a small nudge, walking beside you. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“I wanted to give birth naturally,” you mumble, as you both approach the truck.

Santi grabs your arm gently, stopping you as you stop at the bed of the truck. “I know it’s not what you wanted, and that does suck for you. I’m sorry. But Dr Montgomery said it was the safest option for you and them.”

You sighed. “I feel like it’s...it’s like I’m not...like I’ve already failed as a mother, by bringing them into the world that way.”

Santi looks at you, his eyes filled with empathy. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Listen to me," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Having a c-section doesn't make you any less of a mother. What matters is that you and the babies are safe. That's the priority."

You lean against the truck, staring at the ground as a mix of emotions wash over you. "I just wanted everything to be perfect, you know? A beautiful, natural birth story to tell them when they're older."

Santi gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Life never goes according to plan, especially when it comes to something as unpredictable as having kids. We should know.” he grins at you, wiggling his eyebrows a little.

You give a small laugh at his quip.

He continues. “But that doesn't lessen the love you have for them or the strength it takes to do what's best for their well-being." He pauses, before giving you a reassuring smile. "You're not failing as a mom. If anything, you're making the tough decisions now because you love them so much."

You take a deep breath, absorbing his words, before nodding. “Okay.”

Santi studies you for a moment. “C’mere.” He pulls you into a comforting hug, and you melt into him, allowing the warmth of his embrace to provide a momentary escape from the overwhelming emotions of your appointment with Dr Montgomery. "We'll get through this together.”

You nod against him, just holding him a little longer than necessary before pulling away. “Thank you.”

He gives another laugh. “Don’t thank me for speaking the truth, querida.”

You wipe away at the few stray tears in your eyes before turning to him. “Come on, I gotta get home. Help me get in this junk heap.”

“Hey, don’t insult my truck,” Santi says in mock offence, before he smirks and opens the door for you, and helps you climb in.

He drives you in silence as you talk to him about work, how you’ve taken a step back and you hate it but you’re willing to do it for less stress. Harriet was a little apprehensive when you told her, that she needed you on board for this newest client, that the product was about to launch but you didn’t back down. You told her that you weren’t backing away, but just taking on less of the load. Emily and Kelsie were happy to take some of the tasks; Hell, Kelsie was practically frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to add on some more responsibility than she already had. She told you herself she wanted most of the glory since this was her first big client.

“Bit of a shitty thing for Harriet to do, guilt trip you like that.”

You shrug. “That’s just Harriet. I’ve grown used to it,” you say. “Been there long enough.”

“Since graduation, right?”

You nod. “Yup.”

“Ever thought about leaving?”

Your eyes widened as you turn to look at him. “Why would I do that? I’ve built myself up, I have a relationship and reputation with clients.”

Santi shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I dunno. Seems like you’re underappreciated and overworked, from what you’ve told me. Is there no other marketing firm in Florida?”

“There is - “

“Shop around,” Santi said, as if he wasn’t asking you to consider leaving the only current stability you had in your life right now. “See if anyone is hiring, for a better position or just to be treated a little better.”

“I think it’ll be the same everywhere,” you say, laughing a little.

Santi shrugged. “Just putting it out there.”

You nod. “I mean...I’ll think about it. Maybe after Christmas. Or after I’m back from maternity leave.”

It goes quiet again for a few minutes before Santi asks, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

You shrug. “I have no plans. Beth offered to have me over again, but I feel like I can’t keep intruding on their time.”

“If they’ve asked you to join them, I don’t think you’ll be intruding.”

Your family had still not contacted you. You had messaged the group chat again, accepting that there would probably be no reply still (and there wasn’t). You had another episode, alone this time, sitting on your couch late at night, stereotypically sobbing into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream as you watched Home Alone. It had been your favourite as a child, and something you had watched together with your family, after you’d put the decorations up. This year, you had no tree, no decorations, and you watched it alone.

It had been a sad night.

“You could always...” Santi said a little awkwardly, before clearing his throat. “You could always spend it with me. If you wanted. You don’t have to.”

You look at him with wide eyes, but Santi keeps his gaze on the road, an air of nervousness surrounding him. “You...want to spend Christmas with me?”

“I would have asked you to Thanksgiving but I didn’t...my sisters...”

“I wasn’t expecting you to invite me,” you said, sensing his anxiousness. “Please don’t think over on that.”

“I should have invited you - “

“Santiago,” you say, firmly, causing him to give a quick glance at you before looking back at the road, turning to your apartment’s street. “I am okay. We are okay. You were visiting your family for the first time in years. I didn’t need to be there.”

He goes silent, his jaw tensing like he wants to say something else, but he just sighs through his nose and gives a tight nod.

You reach over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I would love to spend Christmas with you.”

“Have you spoken to Gabs recently?”

You look at Courtney with a confused look on your face as you reach for your water. “I mean, I spoke to her last week about the kids’ Christmas presents. Why?”

You and Courtney had met up for some last-minute Christmas shopping, and you stopped for some dinner before heading home. You had to admit, Gabrielle had been a little off when you spoke to her last week and you had asked if everything was okay, but she had just told you it was Christmas stress. It wasn’t so farfetched, Gabrielle hosted every year for her and Matthew’s families, so of course there was no reason to not believe her.

“Hm,” said Courtney, her brow furrowing. “She’s been a little…weird.”

You shrug. “I mean…she seemed off when I spoke to her, and I asked her about it but she said it was Christmas stress.”

Courtney shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just…bugging me.”

“We could talk to her about it,” you say. “But you know Gabs, she’ll come to us eventually when she’s ready to let us know what’s going on.”

Courtney shook her head for a moment before giving you a look. “You’re right. You’re right! I’m just worried about her.”

“She’ll be fine,” you say. “You know what she gets like at Christmas, she’s hosting for everyone. And you know Matthew’s family.” You give Courtney a pointed look.

Courtney pulled a face. “Yeah. They’re assholes to her. But she keeps hosting!”

“Look, we tell her this every year and you know what she says – “

“’It’s only once a year’,” you both say in unison.

“Exactly,” you say. “So she’ll probably be back to normal after Christmas.”

“Fine. Fine,” said Courtney. “Let’s talk about something else. Like how you’re spending Christmas with Santiago!”

“I am,” you say, feeling your cheeks warming slightly.

“I think that’s nice,” Courtney says. “You’re like...starting your family. Getting the traditions in.”

You nod. “Yeah, I think so too. If this is something we do every year, then best start now, right?”

“You going to his place?” Courtney asked, before thanking the waitress for bringing your food over.

You nod, also thanking the waitress. “It’ll be easier since most of my stuff is packed up now. Thanks again for that, by the way.”

“No problem,” Courtney said, digging into her food. She gives you a grin. “It’s exciting, but also a little sad. It’s the end of an era, but the start of a new one.”

“In a month’s time, I’m going to be a mom,” you say, your eyes wide as if you don’t quite believe it yourself. “How weird is that?”

“Stop it,” said Courtney. “Who knew you would be the next one to have a kid?”

You snort, tucking into your own food. “I don’t think anyone thought I would have a kid, full stop.”

“No,” said Courtney, shaking her head. “I think you would have. Just in ten years.”

“Well, life didn’t work out how I’d planned,” you said, laughing. “But it’s good. Life is good.”

“And you’re happy?” Courtney asked.

Were you? Happy? You go quiet as you think. Obviously, you hadn’t planned to get pregnant, and with twins for that matter, in your tiny one-bedroom apartment, or not be speaking to your parents, or be questioning your job. But here you were, about to finish the year with a new house, amazing friends, new babies, and Santi.

Oh, Santi.

You never thought you would have met someone like Santi, even though you both weren’t together-together. You were lucky to have him; most men after one-night-stands would have left by now, but not Santi. He was sticking around, and in it for the long run. And honestly, you know he wouldn’t feel the same way about you than you felt about him, but he loved you as a friend and the mother of his kids, and you adored that he wanted to help you raise these babies together.

You slowly smile and look at Courtney. “Yeah…yeah, I’m happy.”

You pull up outside Santi’s apartment, taking a deep breath before climbing out of the car. You'd been simultaneously looking forward to Christmas with Santi, and dreading Christmas with Santi. He told you that it was his first year spending it in Florida since returning from Colombia and warned you that his Christmas dinner would probably be something he could quickly rustle up and wasn’t too much hassle - ‘very non-traditional’ was what he said. You didn’t mind; the year had been incredibly ‘non-traditional’ for you anyway.

You make your way up to his apartment, a large bag of presents in your hand. You knock, biting your lip nervously as you waited for Santi to open the door. You look up as the door opens, and you give a laugh at Santi. He was wearing an obnoxiously bright red jumper with a Santa knitted into it, and a Santa hat, and was wearing his usual jeans. He had a bottle of beer in his hand.

He holds his arms out wide as he grins at you. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” you say as you step inside, still laughing at his outfit.

Santi closes the door behind you before he brings you into a quick hug. “I don’t have much of an itinerary today, but Frankie and Sarah might stop by later with Sofía.”

You nod, pulling back from him. “That works out, actually, because I got something for Sofía,” you say, motioning to your bag.

Santi gives you a small, closed-lipped smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t,” you say. “I wanted to. They’re a big part of your life, therefore, they’ll be a big part of our kids’ lives.”

Santiago doesn’t say anything as you make your way into his living room, where he had a small Christmas tree in the corner, overly decorated. You hear Santi make his way into the kitchen as you took the presents out of bag and placed them underneath, smiling as the pile grew. You look up as Santi makes his way into the living room. “Some of these from your sisters?”

He nodded, handing you a can of Diet Coke. “Yeah. I saw them last week, dropped off gifts then. I just got off the phone with them, since my nieces had just opened their Barbie dolls, with their cars, and pets, and accessories...”

You giggled, opening the can. “There’s an awful lot of girls in your family.”

He nodded, grinning. “I have a few cousins who are guys, who had a few boys. I'm not totally overruled.”

You give a small laugh as you sip at your drink. “So, do you want to do presents now? Or later? We could eat first, if you wanted.”

“The empanadas are resting in the fridge, and I have mac and cheese in the slow cooker,” said Santi, taking a gulp at his almost forgotten beer. “Got all sorts of vegetables and potatoes roasting in my oven too.”

“Sounds like a feast,” you say. You could feel your mouth watering. “Maybe we could eat soon?” you give Santi a big smile.

He chuckles at you before nodding. “I’ll put the empanadas in.”

You nod as Santi disappeared back through the kitchen. You look at the presents, and the small tree, and the fact that his living room was bare of any other decorations. Your mind wandered to the fact that this was his first Christmas since settling down, that he was in an actual home and not in a shack or seedy motel somewhere in South America. You really appreciated that he offered you his place for the day, that he’d gone out of his way – and his comfort zone – to bring you into his space again.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You look up at him, blinking in confusion before you realise you were crying. You give a small laugh of slight embarrassment. “I didn’t realise I was crying, I'm sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, cariño,” he said, taking a seat next to you on the floor, giving you a concerned look as he rested his hand in the middle of your back. “Is there anything I can do for you? I knew today would be difficult, I don’t want you to be here if you don’t want to be - “

“No, Santi, really, I'm fine,” you say, cutting him off. “I’m just hormonal. I cry at everything.”

He hesitated for a moment before asking, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to be here, just because I asked - “

“I want to be here, Santi,” you say, reaching over and squeezing his hand that was still wrapped around a beer. “Really, I’m fine. I just...I like that I'm here, you know? I like that you want me here.”

Santi paused for a moment, looking at you before he gives a grin. “Of course, I want you here.”

You give another weak laugh. “Okay then.”

You help him in the kitchen with the food, and of course as soon as you sit down to eat, Frankie and Sarah make their way through with Sofía, profusely apologising for interrupting for not texting beforehand. Santi told them it was fine, and after a few hugs and a quick catch up between you and the Morales’, you all sit to have something to eat.

You get to know the Morales’ a little more intimately than you did on Halloween; you were in a smaller setting with fewer people, and Sarah wasn’t so distracted by the other guests. She was fun, and loud, and someone you could see getting along with for a long time. Frankie was the opposite; quiet, and observant, but you could see how much he opened up to Santi. He wasn’t rude to you at all, including you in the conversation when he could, and you could see why Santi loved him so much.

And then there was Sofía, who giggled at everything you said, and kept trying to steal the mac and cheese on your plate, even though Sarah kept adding more to her plate. You didn’t mind, but Sarah insisted she stop doing it (“It’s becoming a whole thing, we’re trying to nip it in the bud now, while we can!”). When you all finished dinner, you offered to do the dishes, but you were rebuffed when you were lead into the living room, Santi quickly clearing up the plates, saying he’d ‘deal with them later’.

Sarah plonks you down in the armchair by the tree before she hands you an envelope. “This is more for when the babies are here than right now, but it’s valid for three years.”

You look at her in confusion before you open the envelope, mouth falling open as you take a look at the expensive gift voucher. “Sarah, I can’t accept this!”

“Oh sure you can,” she says, waving you off.

You thank her profusely, before you lean down and grab a few boxes from under the tree. “I got some things for Sofía – “

“You didn’t have to do that!” cried Sarah.

“Don’t be silly, here,” you say, handing the toddler the boxes, who took more interest in the wrapping paper than the actual present.

As you and Sarah sit, you look up for Santi and Frankie, who were strangely quiet. You’re taken aback to find them stood close together, quietly arguing with one another. Frankie was pointing at Santi’s chest and saying something too quiet for you to hear, but it was filled with anger, nonetheless. Santi merely argued back.

You look away, putting a mental note in it. You’ll ask Santi about it later.

As Sofía played with the wooden doctor’s set, and the baby doll that you’d gotten along with it, you chatted to Sarah before Frankie finally made his way over. “I think we oughta go.”

Sarah nodded. “Shoot, you’re right, we promised we’d see your mom like, an hour ago.”

As they gather their things and say their goodbyes (Santi and Frankie were still tense), you and Santi were left alone. You look around and sigh, before looking back at him. “What was that about?”

“What?” Santi asked, going around the living room and collecting wrapping paper, avoiding eye contact.

“You and Frankie, what were you arguing about?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Santi, shaking his head. “Something stupid with Benny, you know how it is.”

You don’t feel like he’s telling you the truth, but you know if you pry, Santi is more likely to close up. You slowly nod at him. “Okay. Sure, yeah.”

He finally looks at you and gives you a tight smile. “Everything is okay, hermosa.”

You hesitate before nodding then glancing at the presents under the tree. “I think we should do our gifts now.”

“Okay,” Santi said, before patting you on the back as he passed you to go back into the kitchen, tossing the papers away.

You settle on the floor by the tree, and lean over and grab a few gifts, placing them by Santi as he joined you moments later. “I didn’t go overboard - “

“I don’t believe that,” Santi said from his own place under the tree before he pulled out a small box, wrapped somewhat neatly, and placing it in front of you. “Now, this doesn’t look like a lot but - “

“Stop, Santi, it’s fine,” you say. “It’s about the sentiment.”

Santi nodded, before going quiet, glancing at you at the present. You grin and nod to him. “You go first.”

He gives a small laugh before nodding at the boxes in front of him. “Any particular order?”

“Nope,” you reply.

Like a child, Santi didn’t have to be told twice. He immediately tore into the gifts, smiling widely at the new shirts you’d bought him, and a nice watch. He immediately put it on, before admiring it.

“This is nice,” he said, still admiring it.

“I know you like swimming, so it’s waterproof too,” you say. “And it tracks your exercise. Since you refuse to get an Apple Watch, I went for the next best thing.”

“Thank you, hermosa,” he says, before opening his last gift. He pauses as he looks down at the strap for a guitar.

“I know you’ve been trying to get back into it, and I know your current strap is falling apart,” you say, smiling. “I thought you could do with an upgrade. And look!” you pull the strap from the wrapping before finding the end and pointing. “I have it engraved with your initials.”

“This is…this is great, cariño. Thank you,” he said, before he stands quickly and leaves the room. He comes back a few moments later, guitar in hand as he settles back on the floor with you, practically ripping off the old strap. He puts on the new one, and why he was fiddling with it, he pushed the small box towards you. “Like I said, it’s not a lot…”

“Santi, please,” you say as you open the gift. You pause at the sight of the Tiffany box, glancing up at Santi who was now looking at your nervously.

You open the Tiffany box, to find a silver chain-link bracelet, with a charm of a Christmas tree hanging off it. You gingerly take it out the box, looking at it more closely.

“I have more charms, but I can’t give them to you yet,” he said. “I got the tree because it’s…it’s our first Christmas together.”

Oh my God, you might burst into tears.

No, actually, you’re already crying.

“Santiago,” you say, in a high-pitched cry, looking at the bracelet, at the delicate green charm of the Christmas tree.

“Oh, no,” he said, scootching over to you and bringing you into his arms, where you sobbed into shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. If you don’t like it – “

“Don’t like it!?” you cry, pushing away from him, looking between him and the bracelet. “I love it. Put it on me!” you shove it at him before presenting your wrist to him.

Santi chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief, carefully fastening the bracelet around your wrist before he gave a soft kiss to the warmth of your skin. Your heartbeat loudly in your ears as Santi gave your wrist a squeeze and he looked at you with a warm smile on his face. You look at the bracelet, the charm sitting pretty. You smiled widely at it, tears still falling down your cheeks.

“Please, stop crying,” laughed Santi, reaching up to wipe your years away.

“I can’t,” you say, laughing back as you look at him. “I’m pregnant, and hormonal, and you got me a really nice, sappy gift. I love it.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He goes quiet for a moment before he swallows nervously. “I…”

You look at him as he goes quiet. “Yeah?”

The two of you just staring at each other. Eyes locked onto his, you search for the words that seem to linger unspoken on his lips. There's a certain vulnerability in his silence, a hesitance that hangs in the air like the delicate balance before a confession.

"What is it?" you prompt again gently, your heart quickening in anticipation.

His eyes flicker nervously, and you can almost sense the internal struggle within him. It's as if he's wavering on the edge of an abyss, grappling with emotions that have finally found their way to the surface. Could he…could he be trying to say what you think he…

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in tandem with the weight of his unspoken words. You can feel the gravity of the moment, the tension building between you two, as if the universe itself is holding its breath in anticipation of what he's about to say.

“The next charm you’ll get is in a few weeks, at the baby shower,” Santi finally said, after a long pause.

Oh. That wasn’t what you expected at all. You were –

Wait.

You pause, your brow furrowing as you look at him, tears finally stilling. “The what?”

Santi freezes, his face falling as he looks at you. “Oh, shit.”

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @bluenredndeath, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader #santiago garcia x f!reader

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