#and her concept of his management situation is baffling

[sugar-konpeito]

ok take this entire post with a grain of salt because i'm really hyperfixated right now and just writing whatever but,, something i think about A LOT is mamoru's behavior (particularly anime mamoru (which i think may have something to do with ikuhara being really critical of japan's treatment of vulnerable children)) can be explained as results of neglect and developmental delays.

he was raised in an institution from the age of five, and probably primarily raised himself. he had to become self-sufficient at a very young age because he knew there was no one who would support him besides himself.

having more-or-less been an adult his whole life, he seems very mature. he's very successful in school, has worked multiple jobs, and owns an apartment. he's very well-mannered and polite, and never childish or poorly behaved. he has many accomplishments/skills for his age and is worldly. but if you pay close attention to him, there are aspects of his personality that are very childlike still or couldn't grow much. particularly emotional and social ones

here's a list of his signs of trauma/neglect/developmental delay (because i'm not sure how to make these into a paragraph):

-He's very naïve in general. Despite the cynical façade he put on early in the series, he doesn't understand many everyday social concepts and has a tendency to take things at face value.

-For example, he doesn't seem to have a firm grasp on gender. He's had very few close relationships in life, and only seems to have a very sketchy idea of what boys and girls are. Since the sailor guardians are pretty much the only girls he's been close to, he assumes their characteristics are indicative of all girls, instead of being idiosyncrasies of theirs.

There's a scene where Sailor Moon and Sailor Mars start randomly bickering over something innocuous and get pretty vicious and *very* loud. Tuxedo Mask slips away and remarks "It's scary when girls fight."

It's not a jab, it's more like an observation. He sees an element of Usagi and Rei's very unique dynamic and assumes it applies to *all* girls. He doesn't have much info to draw from and is currently constructing his idea about how girls function based of off the sailor senshi. It also shows how he takes things at face value, because he instantly accepts his first interpretation of the situation and doesn't think much further into it.

-Another example is when Zoisite managed to trick him by pretending to surrender, and Mamoru just trusted him!😭

-Even though he's a teenager, he doesn't understand dating at all, and doesn't know what the appeal of it is. When dating Usagi he tries to be romantic by emulating things he saw on TV and acts very odd. Because of all of his responsibilities, he probably never had many opportunities to bond with his peers. Dude has no clue what partners do together, what he's supposed to be feeling, or much of anything really! he also gets confused by girls liking him and doesn't catch on to their advances most of the time..

-His expressions are very subtle or could even be described as blank. Difficulty with facial expressions are a common characteristic of neglect. (Lots of fans think he's cold because of this.😢 he's not!! he just has a rough time okay??😢😢)

-He has a hard time asking for help. It doesn't even usually occur to him as an option. He's so used to solving everything himself, asking somebody else seems unthinkable

-When he's walking down the street with a shoulder wound, and Usagi shows concern about it, it doesn't even register! He gets annoyed by her following him and asks her why. She answers that she was worried. "About me?" he asks, despite there being no one else in the alleyway. He's completely baffled. It's never occurred to him that someone may care about his well being.

-He's very shy and usually plays social interactions safe by not talking much. Sometimes this actually has the effect of making the conversation awkward. (That time in SuperS where he has guests over and just sits there while usagi and chibiusa argue over who his real girlfriend is. he doesn't intervene even when it makes the guests uncomfortable)

-HE'S SUCH A PEOPLE PLEASER. i don't think i have to explain this one, but he dated rei for a while despite really disliking it because he didn't want to hurt her feelings!! and that time he apologized to usagi for not knowing her birthday and scrambled to get her a gift even after she hit him and embarrassed him in public. he wasn't mad for a second. he thought he must be in the wrong!! (he doesn't value himself as much as he should😢)

-he struggles to be vulnerable, even in small, mundane ways.

-when pressed, he has a tendency to shut down, using submissive body language and avoiding eye contact. (like when mercury cornered him and tried to force him to be direct with her. (he ended up running away))

-he is VERY selfless. in Transylvania no mori, he's stabbed and is dying. he focuses all his remaining energy on comforting Usagi and making sure she knows it's not her fault, when he should probably be focusing on survival. he clearly wants to take care of others, which is good, but he has too little concern for himself!! he wasn't taught he had value

-he can act prickly (probably out of fear/defense mechanism)

-he doesn't set boundaries!!! the closest he usually comes is ignoring the person causing him problems😭😭😭😭

i don't know where i'm going with this but developmental psychology is one of my special interests,, also i think usagi is so good for him because she unconditionally loves him and accepts him where he's at instead of expecting him to be more mature or something!! and you help people with delays grow by meeting them where they're at and nurturing whatever needs they have instead of questioning or criticizing them!! she teaches mamoru to value himself and can teach him the things he didn't learn!! she had a really safe and loving family and a stable childhood and she can use the benefits her secure life gave her to help him!!!!!! :,,,,DDDDDD

(people always think usagi is the fragile one, and mamoru ought to protect her better, but she's really the strong one of the two!! she had the safe childhood. mamoru is a bit (emotionally) frail from his hard life :,,>)

mamoru is so grateful to her for loving him, he gives her his 100000000% and takes care of her with everything in him!!!

#unhinged rambling #mamoru chiba #usamamo #tuxedo mask #angst #im love him tho #i love characters with developmental problems #cw mental health #i guess.. #im being unhinged but i think im also right

[pixelateddork]

i approach your day with flowers and chocolates in my hands. when you open it, i get down on one knee, hold them out, and manage to squeek out

"please do you have ideas on how granpa and iii would meet in your timetravel au i just saw the post and i'm so normal about it please how would each person react how would arsene respond to modern day how would iii cope with not recognizing him you have beautiful eyes i swear i'm so normal about the time travel au:

FGDShfGHDSGF Hi!! I'm so glad you liked my silly lil concept!!! I know I haven't talked about it much, so this feels like a good opportunity to talk about it again! I'm gonna assume by each person you meant the gang(if not I am sorry XD) so! Let's do a quick bullet point list! Gonna put all this rambling under a read more!

Lupin: Completely and utterly baffled by the situation. His grandpa has been dead for many years at that point, and now his grandpa was right in front of him as a young man. It's weird for him, meeting what feels like an entirely new person. He really understands what his grandpa has meant when he'd tell Lupin "You remind me so much of myself when I was young", because god damn he was not kidding. Any feeling of grief or sadness however are all pushed to the back of his mind as he helps try to figure out a way to fix this rip in time. Jigen: He was the first one to encounter Arsene, mistaking the man for Lupin at first. He's got mixed feelings on the situation. he finds it kinda odd that Lupin's grandpa at 31 years old is just...living with them for the time being, and finds it kinda werid how similar the two are....But also man is it entertaining to watch Lupin to deal with someone just as smug and obnoxious(Jigen means this with love) as he is. Goemon: At first, he did not trust the guy. Convinced that it was some trick(athough this was the assumption most of the gang had at first). Once it was revealed that Arsene was indeed Lupin's grandfather from the past, he makes sure to treat him with respect, as he is techincally still Lupin's elder.

Fujiko: Probably was convinced this was a weird joke when Lupin called her to let her know, and she walks into the hideout with Lupin from her knowledge another Lupin but blonde was sitting on the couch next to him. She finds him charming, athough shares Jigen's feelings on how it's strange how similar the two really are. --- As for Arsene reacting to the modern day...well this all started with Jigen stopping the guy from getting hit by a car so...let's say his transition is a lil rough, to say the least. He'd definitely be facinated by all the modern things surrounding him though, without a doubt. He'd have some difficulty adjusting at first, but he's a smart man! He'll get the hang of it! That's all I'll say here for now though! This post is already getting kinda long! Hope I answer you questions alright! If you have anymore I'd be happy to ramble about my silly idea again!

#{pixelanswers} #lupin iii #arsene lupin the first #lupin i #lupin iii au #lupin the first

[pizza-games-and-more]

Pizza Tower: The Series Episode Concept

Title: "The Root Of The Problem"

Season: 3

Summary: Noisette returns to the enchanted section of the forest to thank Clove for helping her earlier, but finds herself caught in one of the many curses that lay there. Will she be able to escape? The rest of the cast is having problems of their own due to an enraged Fake Peppino...

Notes: I wanted to continue the story of Noisette and Clove's building friendship (don't worry, it's nowhere NEAR as long, literally just one more episode after this one) before posting the Season Finale of Season 3 because I am just too excited to post it.

As Noisette enters the enchanted forest, she looks for the brightest lights. That's almost guaranteed to be where someone lives in this place. However, what she doesn't know is that she stepped in a trap. But it hasn't activated just yet...

As she makes her way further into the forest, she notices her legs getting heavier and heavier. Still determined, and believing she's just getting tired, she keeps going.

Eventually, as she arrives at a little area filled with books and a hammock, she finds that she can no longer move her legs. Right on cue, Clove arrives.

Clove harshly questions her coming back and tries to get her to leave, but once she tells him she can't and he takes a look at her legs (which now have roots growing out of them), he immediately changes his tone and tries to find the artifact needed to remove the curse that if left unchecked, will transform Noisette into a tree.

As he prepares the artifact to remove the curse, he expresses how he's baffled with how Noisette doesn't seem to be taking this seriously, instead just being her usual cheerful self. Her response:

Noisette: I'm not worried about that! Because you're here to help me!

Clove is speechless and simply frees her from the curse. To his surprise, she starts hugging him and thanking him. When he tells her to back off, she obliges, apologizing for being too forward "for a new friend".

As Noisette leaves, Clove hangs on to the words "new friend" before going to sleep in his hammock.

Over to the B-Plot.

During a picnic with the cast, Fake Peppino cheerfully watches some butterflies fluttering about without a care in the world. Then The Noise ruins it by crushing the butterflies into a pulp.

Fake Peppino gets pissed off and unleashes his enraged state. Starting off, he devours The Noise, then he starts mindlessly attacking the others.

Once The Noise manages to explain what's happened (which is a lot harder to do in this situation), Peppino decides to try to calm Fake down.

After a lot of failed attempts, he eventually does so by showing him another set of butterflies, which brings him back to his peaceful mood.

Noisette then enters the scene, seeing Peppino next to Fake Peppino, everyone else injured on the ground, and no Noise in sight.

When she asks where The Noise is, he lets her know in advance that it might be a while before he comes back home. Humorously, Noisette just accepts it like this is a normal thing.

Peppino asks Noisette how she stays so cheerful, to which she just giggles and the episode ends.

#pizza tower #concept: pizza tower the series #character: noisette #oc: clove #character: fake peppino #character: the noise #character: peppino #also yeah go ahead make all the vore jokes you want about the b-plot #just please dont actually treat it as serious vore it's just a comedy 90s cartoon trope

[blackjackkent]

So, what Rakha really wants to do right now is go kill the people hunting Karlach, because they don't have anything else that would qualify as a direct plan other than the creche, and the "paladins" are closer. However, I happen to know that the paladins are level five and Rakha is level 2 and could be knocked over by a stiff breeze, so I think a better bet is a more full exploration of the Emerald Grove first.

I'm guessing that this is the result of a concerted effort on Wyll and Shadowheart's part, primarily - Wyll already knows the people of the grove and Shadowheart has fixated on Halsin as a useful lead. Gale doesn't seem to have any specific plan in mind and, left to their own devices, Lae'zel would already be heading for the creche and Rakha and Karlach would be after the paladins. But between them, Shadowheart and Wyll manage to convince everyone that at least TALKING to the healer in the grove would be a useful start before everyone goes off half-cocked.

Amused because I stopped in to talk to Zevlor and got a disapproval from Wyll purely for leaving the conversation without asking the question about whether the ritual could be stopped. XD Sorry, Wyll. I swear we'll get to a point where you like Rakha, somehow, but I doubt sincerely we're there yet.

Speaking of the ritual, down we go to the grove proper - with a quick stop to talk to the teeth-ling kids.

"Whoa. Hey! Can't say I've ever seen someone like you before."

Without preamble, he shows his hands to her, empty. Then a quick flick of the wrist, and suddenly he's holding out a tarnished gold ring between his fingers.

"Go on," he says cheerfully. "Take this ring. It's lucky."

Rakha, who has very little context for anything she experiences, has never seen slight-of-hand magic done before, nor is she familiar with the concept of a con man. So she watches this little display and is immediately fascinated. Magic - but with no surge of that visible tapestry around the boy, the network of power that Gale calls the Weave.

How?

"That was a fancy trick," she says slowly.

His eyes narrow and something subtle shifts in his expression, a flash of interest. "You haven't seen anything yet, lady," he says dryly. "Go on - take the ring and watch your fortune change!"

Take the ring.

She takes it and looks at it carefully. There is no magic on the ring either, nothing that she can sense. But the boy looks up at her earnestly as he draws a coin from his pocket. "Call it! Heads or tails."

She blinks at him, puzzled by the question.

Pocket the ring.

"Hey, hold on!" the boy cries at once. "You gotta pay for that!"

She does? She withdraws the ring out of her pocket again and squints at the boy, incredibly baffled by the entire situation.

("The boy seeks to deceive you," Lae'zel says impatiently under her breath. "His magic is mundanity. The ring likely the same."

Wyll sighs. "Be kind, the both of you. He wants to show you a trick, that's all. Let him flip the coin.")

Rakha's eyes narrow. She stands there with the ring sitting on her palm and feels foolish. "It's only a joke," she says slowly after a long silence and trying to sort through the words from her companions. "Go on... flip your coin." If anything, she is curious to learn what that means.

"Real sweet sense of humor you got there, chum." The boy looks as if he's starting to regret his choice of mark, but he presses on gamely. "Anyway, you gotta call before the flip. Heads or tails."

A long pause. "Heads?" Rakha says cautiously.

The boy grins, tosses the coin in the air, catches it, and then shows her the side with the head facing up. "Heads it is!" he crows. "See? That's the kinda luck you get from just one of my lucky rings! I've got more where that came from. Real cheap, too. Interested?"

Rakha is starting to understand the situation now that she has seen it play out, and her lips twitch with irritation. [SORCERER] "If there was magic in this ring, I'd have felt it," she says bluntly. "It's nothing but junk."

The boy flinches and raises his hands defensively. "Not so loud!" he hisses. "You caught me, all right? They're not lucky rings." His eyes grow wide, his expression twisting with sudden, exaggerated pathos. "I'm just... trying to earn money for my family," he whimpers. "My father left and my mother... she's so sick. I wish I had better things to sell than... trinkets, but it's all I have!"

Rakha squints. The shift in tone is abrupt enough that she is certain it's disingenuous and that Lae'zel is right - the boy is making a fool of her. There is nothing of value here.

Wordlessly she shoves the ring back in the boy's face.

Return the ring and leave.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #ok so fundamentally this was not like #a scene with much of a point in rakha's case :P #did give me some thinky thinks though #one reason writing rakha is proving to be interesting is that by going real deep down the you-know-nothing rabbit hole #it often ends up a smidge comedic #and there's a challenging balance to be struck between this and not making her come across like an idiot #because i don't think she is! #she's quick - given information to work with she extrapolates lots of things out of a small amount #and makes rational decisions on how to act on that information #she just has zero context for anything #especially when the situation involves slang; it's kind of fun realizing that (for instance) if you didn't know what heads or tails meant #why would you be able to guess? #tldr using this scene that went nowhere as an excuse to write meta about my own character :P #i honestly really like rakha; she strikes me as someone who is perfectly decent (when the Urge isn't taking control at least) #but blunt and almost purely rationally-driven and needs to be met on her own terms #which so far the companions have been willing to do which is nice

[monogatcri]

it's hard for anyone to let go of someone they love. (from nahida, as promised!)

━━ ˟ ⊰🍁FOR HOW LONG HE'D BEEN gone and how the past had painted him , Niwa had been utterly baffled when news of Kabukimono sparing his descendant had been one of the updates mentioned. To hear that one who'd been friend had turned cowardly foe and raced to save his own skin, leaving you behind to take responsibility for what he'd claimed he would? The restraint of friend -- it felt...powerful than most humans would have managed.

        Second chance. Friendship reformed. Pain sutured in one way while stitches tore in another ; the bladesmith sat before Nahida, lips pulled into tight line, nodding head. For how much pain had been thrust to heart, letting go of perception of what once existed was all a quality of being human...no heart required to beat within breast. Nahida knew this as well as Niwa ; they knew that what makes a person the same as a human was not the physical organ but the morality, the intentions, the existence, emotions...

        Emotions that ran high as the concept of this meeting continued to fill him, anxiety-riddled form, somehow, managing to remain perfectly still before this benevolent god of wisdom. He could bow deeply, slam his forehead to the floor and repeatedly strike it to show how grateful he was to her, barely holding back at committing to this by a thread -- a culture divide he feared breaking. A hand raised, eyes falling upon palm, examining its structure...silent for some time...

        ❝ Lesser Lord Kusanali, ❞ he'd finally start, lowering hand down to lap. Life had been handed back to him, but... ❝ That's why I need you. I know he cares and that...that me dying again would be painful ; I just want to be know if I'm dangerous -- if my existence must be snuffed out once more for the betterment of the world's safety. ❞ Grateful is he that he managed to speak at all to his loved one, a chance to set the record straight and to hug him one last time ; he could never have asked for more than that -- all that he'd shown him thus far a bonus... By nature of law, he won't allow himself to pose a threat to the rest of Teyvat, however ; no matter how much he wants to live, no matter how much his friend wishes for his life to remain, Niwa wouldn't stand in the way of ensuring everyone's safety over his own desires.

        ❝ You're the neutral party. I will accept your judgment of my situation, but...first I must thank you ; if not for your kindness and intervention, others may have continued to abuse him and would have long killed or thrown him aside once they were through with him ; it is this knowledge that warms my heart and makes this choice to ask for your judgment on my existence easier, for I know that if you must destroy me, he'll be safe...and he'll have someone who cares. ❞

#* // ♦︎ 001. — › I C #* // ♦︎ 008. — › A N S W E R E D #* // ♦︎ V3. — › HEART FROM IRMINSUL #// I cry into my hands #// he's so grateful to her #// he feels at peace knowing that she's been there for him

[dandelionsindistress]

Diving Deep Inside "Earth"

Review by Daniella

Have you ever heard of Tere Liye? Maybe you haven’t, well, you’re in the right place! Tere Liye is known for his series “Earth” a.k.a. Bumi consisting of 11 consecutive books. The book “Earth” kicks the series with its rich green and gold-adorned cover. The book itself is 14 x 20 cm wide and stands with 440 pages. And it expands the horizons of fantasy as it is intertwined with science fiction. The book shares the story of a 15-year-old Raib who finds herself in a heated war of worlds. Always the teenagers who find themselves in ominous other-worldly situations, yes?

Cover design and typography

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Who are we kidding with this phrase? If a book doesn’t catch my attention then it doesn’t need my attention. “Earth” has an enticing cover art, embellished with cats, bears, cityscape and the moon. These are key elements to the story and you’ll only realise they hold significance as you read. The gold adornments contrast the rich dark green of the background, making the title pop out. It would’ve been fancier if they added a picture to recap each chapter to make it less dull but text will do. The text also has an easy-to-read font, nothing too fancy but nothing too basic. It has a standard font size as well so it doesn’t tire the eyes.

Characters

There are three main characters you need to be familiar with: Raib, Seli, and Ali. They are students who find themselves bound together by an uncanny coincidence. This specific book of the series is written down from Raib’s point of view. Raib herself is a run-of-the-mill teenage girl with loving parents who are unaware of her powers. She isn’t the type to take risks–a scaredy cat even–although, she does gain confidence along the way. However, she is easily annoyed and hot-headed as you will read from her monologues. Seli, on the other hand, is her childhood best friend, who also turns out to possess powers. She mainly stays baffled throughout the journey but doesn’t keep her mouth shut to ask questions. And last, we have Ali. Ali was described as highly infuriating from Raib’s point of view. Despite that, he is surprisingly intelligent and cunning and has a niche skill at learning languages as fast as 24 hours. There are numerous other side characters, all with rather unusual names: Tamus, Ilo, Vey, Ou, etc. Most of them are crucial to the story and are the ones to re-appear in the second book.

Plot

The plot is reminiscent of other fantasy books eg. Harry Potter, The Land of Stories, etc. The classic storyline of teenagers casually finding out they belong in another world. It began with Raib slowly getting suspicious of her surroundings and trying to control her powers. After a series of uninteresting events, Raib, Seli, and Ali get trapped in a building and witness foreign creatures wrestle each other to death in search of them. This leads them to get sucked into a portal. Now, this is where it gets interesting. We see as they try their best to navigate through the foreign land which eventually brings them to an elder. Here they learn about the true strength of their powers and the history of the worlds. 

The rest of the story pulls you in to watch as they use their varying strengths to help the foreign land free of jeopardy. This part of the story is full of immense suspense and tension. If you’re weak at the heart, you might want to skip through the fight since most of the characters end up getting harmed. But thankfully, it has a happy ending. They managed to win against the blood-curdling creatures and got to go back home to their original world. This isn’t where it ends for them though, they have 10 more books to go!

Landscaping

What I love about this book series is how the landscape is planned out. It is a fascinating concept that I have never seen anywhere else. The theory is that there are 4 different worlds of different advancements simultaneously living in the same physical planet body. So all natural features such as mountains, rivers, and cliffs can be found in the same spots within all 4 worlds. In addition to that, because of the different technological advancements, these worlds occupy different spaces. For example, “Earth” inhabitants reside on land, whereas “Moon” inhabitants reside hundreds of metres underground as well as above ground.

If you're looking for an easy fantasy read, "Earth" is for you. It has all the emotions you can think of. Happiness? Panic? Fear? Anger? It’s all there. The characters take you on a magnificent rollercoaster ride on a journey of their lifetime. The book displays the perfect teenage angst and bond. It was pleasant to see their growth and maturity within a week’s time. The author definitely knows how to suck you in for hours on end. And who knows you might end up reading the whole series! 

[your-sweet-cookie]

[ dance ] for your muse to dance with mine

Word prompts compilation

Parties were never Kukki's forte when it came to socializing. In fact, she loathed the concept of 'partying' as a whole, since it was an activity involving crowded places, loud sounds and a ton of chaotic movement, all of these being stressors contributing to the young woman's anxiety.

So no wonder that, while everyone else was dancing their night away, Kukki proffered to sit on the side at the bar, enjoying a good sweet mocktail, while watching her friends showing off their newest dance moves on the dance floor. She wasn't a great dancer either, so there wasn't much of a loss in not partaking too in their weird display of extraversion, or at least that's what Kukki liked to think and believe.

The silver-haired woman was watching Hinata and Narumi doing the macarena in the middle of the dance floor, when she felt a finger patting her shoulder. Confused to whoever might've sat down next to her while she was focused on her friends, Kukki turned around to meet the gaze of the stranger seeking her company. To her surprise, the 'culprit' was none other than Isao, the mysterious Spades expert newcomer who intimidated everyone with his imposing and stoic demeanor. What made this the more intriguing was the fact that the older man was very quiet and withdrawn, so what was he doing at a Friday night Beach party, seeking Kukki's attention of all things?

"C-Can I help you, Isao-san?" The young woman tried her best to be polite and hide her bewilderment with what could it be that the man wanted from her. "You look kinda lonely here all by yourself, missy." Isao replied in a stoic manner, as he took a sip from his beer. "Why aren't you partying with the rest of your friends?"

His inquiry made Kukki's eyes widen for a slight second. Why did it matter to him if she partied or not? And why was he soo interested in her well being all of a sudden when they were nothing, but pretty much strangers to one another. 'Such an odd man...' Kukki thought to herself and tried to regain her composure. "Don't worry about me, sir. I am in no way lonely and I am actually enjoying myself here at the bar. They serve very delicious drinks here." She answered and motioned to her mocktail.

"That doesn't answer my second question. Youngsters like you usually like spending their night moving around to rhythm of the music, not languishing at the bar like a bum. That's us old folks' job." Unbelievably, there was a hint of a smile forming on Isao's lips as he finished his comment, and his words managed to draw a slight snort out of his conversation partner.

"Well, I am the exception to the rule then. I'm not the party type to be honest. I much prefer the quiet and besides, I am a terrible dancer." Kukki smiled too and looked down at her blue lagoon drink. "Oh come on, you can't possibly be worse than those two." Isao raised an eyebrow and pointed at Hinata and Narumi. "Well, whatever. How about this, you join me for the next dance and I'll prove to you that you aren't that terrible of a dancer?"

Kukki was even more baffled, but the situation sounded so hilarious that she couldn't turn down the offer. 'What a truly strange man! But still, his offer doesn't sound that bad...' After all, she too was very curious to see Isao actually partying. It just made for a funny mental image. "Okay, then that's what we'll do!"

So, when the next song started, the two joined the dance floor and for the first time ever since she's been to the Borderlands, Kukki actually let loose and had some fun doing something silly and actually partied for once in her life. It turned out that dancing wasn't that bad of a thing either. Isao wasn't that bad of a dancer himself, and following his cues and example, Kukki managed to keep face on the dance floor by not embarrassing herself. It was an overall very enjoyable Friday night and by the end, the young woman made a new friend in the person of the grumpy old man Isao, who wasn't that grumpy after all.

#aib rp #aib roleplay #alice in borderland roleplay #alice in borderland rp #aib oc #aib oc rp #spadesking1 #rp with kukki

[sly-merlin]

okey dokey! I'm gonna be a father!

Requesting pregnant reader scenarios, wanna see more of the guys’ duality balancing domesticity and impending fatherhood, and running the world, ya know 🙏🏾😎🤔😀 Just throwing the idea out there since you said we could. Y’know things like ‘I’m trying to leave to set up a meeting but her back is sore & she wants ice cream so one of u needs to suddenly be available. now’ & other things ig. I imagined Ty Kun, John Jae or Kun in as leader & probably hc or jaemin as the wife-sitters (lol)

Since you didn’t specify the unit,I did this with the few members from hyung line. This got so long that I ran out of ideas so let me know if you want me to write for some other members.  though j incorporated your ideas but i based it on the concept of them managing the treats in both hands. This is my first time doing reactions so leave some feedback if you wish! Have a nice day everybody.

(7 members) Ft. Taeil, johnny, taeyong, yuta, ten, jaehyun + kun

TAEIL 

"Let me message you back!" Taeil whispered into the phone and raised his body to observe your sleeping form. Your head was securely resting on his arm and he let out a relieved sigh as it was one of the few Lucky days when you were not thrashing around in your sleep. Day after day, you were getting uncomfortable with your heavy belly and all he could ever do was keep you company in your frustrations. He couldn't risk waking you up so he tried his best to complete the task in the painful position. He fidgeted with the phone for it was impossible to handle a 6 inch of metal device with one hand. Struggling with the grip for a few more seconds, he finally managed to send johnny a message regarding the inquiry.

Ask tae He has ab eztra key 2 my ofice.

Maybe he should turn his autocorrect on for situations like this!

Thinking his work was done, he locked the phone. just when he was about to put it on the nightstand on a blind guess, it vibrated again! 

John: He is out! You need to come asap.

He stopped to watch out for any movement from your side and when there was none, he shifted to his phone again.

Nt my pblm. 

He couldn't understand why johnny was being so persistent when everyone was under strict orders to not call him after 10 p.m unless someone was dying!

John: Jungwoo is in trouble with police. I need his fake ID!

Taeil’s scoffed a bit too loudly causing you to stir.  He paused in his actions only to continue when he noticed your even breathing. Weighing the options, he concluded that Jungwoo must have forgotten to pay for the food again or something like that otherwise if it was work related then johnny would have been screaming at his door and not through the phone.

Not his 1st time. dw too much. Jst send him some food so he wont cry like last tym.

He deserved that much punishment! With that he switched the device off and wrapped his arm around your waist, returning to the warmth he got to experience only at night times.

JOHNNY

You were on edge since the day you got yourself tested. You could blame it on the suddenly changing hormones or the never present johnny but one thing was sure that you were missing him more than ever. Johnny on the other hand, avoided going back home for the sole reason of finding himself incapable of taking care of you and his dangerous job. That’s why he had assigned hendery to be at your beck and call. He was a medic and since the other medical emergencies could be handled by xiaojun and renjun, hendery had no problem in spending some time with you. His company was full of funny stories of other members and silly jokes. Despite his endless efforts to distract you, the thought that your daughter’s father was missing the growth of his own child always remained at the back of your head. You couldn’t understand how all of a sudden his workload had increased so much that he barely had any time to even see your face let alone talk to you for a few minutes. But all your worries vanished the day he returned and sarcastically ordered hendery to show his donkey self out of his house to never come back again.

“I managed to prepone some important weapon deals”, he bowed gracefully to acknowledge his own achievements, making you chuckle at him, “and I’ve been rewarded with three months of holidays so I shall be spending these months making up for the lost time and creating new memories” he completed, kissing your forehead.

"I never said I need you 24/7. A few hours at most would do John" you said, knowing how his absence would affect the black neos. 

"Yeah. But then I realised what if my baby girl mistakes hendery for her father. Can't let that happen now yeah!" 

Masked under jokes, you were very well aware of the real reasons behind the toil he had subjected himself to! It was all for you and your baby girl and you knew he would do it again and again even if it meant the end of his life!

TAEYONG

 From sharp cold deadly glare to the dragon tattoo that adorned his neck and arms, fellow criminals had every reason to fear this man. His name, in the underworld, screamed  cursed royalty. But that was Lee taeyong, leader of black neos.

The taeyong standing right in front of you, struggling with multiple boxes of boards was anything but scary. Cladded in baby blue hoodie and black boxers, he was reading the manual, knocking down the structure again and again as he repeatedly found something missing from it. 

"Leave it tae. I can complete this later on. Come and eat now." You whined and suggested while taking bites from the creamy pasta he had prepared earlier. 

"what do you mean i can complete this later on. Do you find me incapable of making a crib?"

Yes you did!

But that was not the answer you could give when he was clearly trying his hardest. It was indeed baffling as to why the man who could assemble a weapon with his left hand was unable to join the pieces of a crib with both!

"No tae. You were out for three days so maybe you are just too tired to concentrate!" You explained in the politest way possible that clearly didn't reach him properly. He let out an audible gasp at what felt for him to be the accusatory tone.

"Eat your pasta and watch me complete this in half an hour! You'd regret saying that to me!"

Why was he the one with mood swings?

Just like other bubbling thoughts, you gulped down this one too and nodded enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up as if you would never doubt his capabilities.

But you knew, he might have started the task but he was surely not going to be the one to complete it!

YUTA

“How about sakura?” hyuck suggested. Looks of disapproval were exchanged across the room and sound of mark hitting hyuck’s arm resonated in the living room.

“Cliche!” jaehyun laughed.

“Yes. We aren't naming our daughter sakura and that is final. She’s one of a kind and her name should also be!” you announced your arrival in the room and sat on the floor, making yourself comfortable between yuta’s legs. He wrapped his arms around your belly before leaning his neck to greet you with a sweet cheek kiss.

“Yes. What y/n wants, y/n gets. No sakura!” he held his one hand up in the air, forbidding any further discussion on the name.

"That's not fair!" Hyuck whined only to be dismissed by a wave from you.

"Just because it's not hyuck's choice doesn't mean that you have got right to choose by yourself. The baby is a part of this family so we get to decide what's best for her!" Ten exclaimed loudly getting everyone’s attention.

“How about ayaka?” kun suggested, entering the room with a trolley full of snacks. As the recommendations poured in, the snacks were passed to everyone. Days like these were rare and from the past two months, these rare days were spent daydreaming about the very first child in the black neos house.

“Akira? It’s quite universal you know.” mark joined in, reading the meaning of the name in different cultures and languages.

“Haru”

“No kai!” 

Somewhere in the conversation, yuta’s hands had travelled from your tummy to your sides. He knew the little brushes of his fingers had started to work on you as you swatted his hand away with yours. It only encouraged him and he tickled you on your sides more and more, getting the desired reaction. Your body being more sensitive and responsive than usual, you wiggled in his arms and squealed loudly enough to get everyone’s attention. Suddenly his hands stopped as he heard a whiny shout.

“Why are you bugging her?” hyuck hollered, “can’t you sit still for once? Let her breathe for a freaking second. You wanna tickle! Tickle me. Come tickle me but Don’t bother her!” 

You were aware of hyuck’s sudden outbursts of protection for you but this was truly something new! And you new tickles were not the reasoning behind his irritation. Sakura was!

“Le-let’s play a game”, kun interrupted before haechan’s frustration would land him into some trouble with the elder, “we’ll write all the suggestions into paper and whichever y/n chooses would be final. How does it sound?” 

Everyone hummed along to the idea. Looking over at Hyuck, you noticed a sudden glint in his eyes that spoke trouble. He was clearly planning something evil and until it was all fun and games, you had no trouble for his intentions.

“Since when did you get a bodyguard hmm?” yuta whispered, planting another wet kiss on your right cheek. 

“Yua.” you said.

“What?”

“We are naming her yua! When are you gonna tell them that i’ve already decided!” leaning backwards, you said in a hushed voice meant only for his ears.

“When they are tired enough to play any more games. Till then, let’s have fun. Look at hyuck, he’s surely gonna cheat and mark and renjun are going to strangle him.” yuta chuckled against your ear, making you laugh again. Life was good!

TEN

“Xiaojun! Xiaojun! Show yourself you good for nothing potato!” you winced at the volume of ten’s voice. Even though he was outside the room, his vocals were irritating. But you held your tongue from scolding him as he was the only one you could rely on at the moment. 

“Xia-

“Did bella bite you again? why are you shouting at-” xiaojun squinted at the wall clock and adjusted his glasses, “at 5:30a.m?”

“Half of the world is up you hibernating bear! y/n is craving ice-cream. You know better than to refuse her so go to her. Your service starts right now.” 

Xiaojun scoffed and remained glued to the stairs. Ten raised a brow questioning him but instead of answering him xiaojun came up with one of his own.

“And why aren’t you going?” 

“Switchblade prince is called so I gotta go. I don’t think you want her to wait!.”

Xiaojun groaned when ten shot him a wink and left the living room. Of course he had no trouble in tending to your demands which as a medic, he understood very well but ten’s cockiness wasn’t something he was ever ready to handle.

“y/n! What does our prince wanted to eat this early in the morning?” he smiled at you, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“Apples and bananas.” 

“I meant what ice cream flavour do you want?”

“Ice cream? Who said ice cream? I want bananas.” you answered him, confused at his confusion!

It was only then that xiaojun realised that switchblade prince was never called in the first place. Ten had fled. Due to fruits! He was contemplating as to what extent he should be manipulating ten’s words while telling you about his betrayal when you spoke up.

“Umm. i guess we can eat mint chocolate as well. I’ll eat a banana chocolate sandwich first then we can both watch a movie and finish the ice cream. What do you say?”

Ok!  Maybe revenge could wait. Ice cream would be a priority here! 

JAEHYUN

If your husband was cocky, you were seriously too many steps ahead of him and it has taken only 10 days for jaemin to realise that you were just jae's cup of tea and no one else's, at least not as a 4 months pregnant woman. 

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Jaehyun laughed at jaemin sprawled on the floor like a toddler. 

"Noona screamed at me" jaemin mumbled, hiding his face in his neck.

"Oh jaemin! Why did she do it? Were you teasing her again. You know that she doesn't take sarcasm too we-

"No. She threw up the food i made for her and that too thrice since yesterday. I got angry so i told her to eat up or else i won't be making anymore for her. She threw the pillow at me and ordered me to never talk to her again! I mean it's not like i was showing real anger! She's hungry since yesterday. If she won't eat up then she'd be sick. What did I do wrong! Now I made her favourite pasta and she won't open the door for me."

Jaehyun sighed and crouched down to jaemin's level. He knew your emotions weren't in your control anymore but jaemin wasn't wrong either. He was just doing what was right for you and unintentionally, you had ended up hurting the poor boy. Jaehyun patted jaemin's hair before he told him to inform taeyong about his possible absence from the upcoming meetings and activities.

"You can't do that." Jaemin said the obvious.

"Do you want her to eat or not!" Jaemin frantically nodded at him before running off to the main office.

Heating up the pasta, jaehyun made his way to your shared bedroom in black neos. 

"Baby open up it's me!" He knocked at the door and hearing his voice,you immediately opened it. 

"You are here!" You exclaimed, feeling beads of moisture in the corner of your eyes.

"Aww. Now is not the time to cry." He cooed, entering the room with the tray. Placing it on the coffee table, he turned around and hugged you just the way he missed you.

"I'm sorry for being occupied and only coming back at night. But I'm here for a few days so let's get you all happy like a seal!" He laughed, ruffling your hair.

"I-i yelled at jaemin for no reason." You confessed not being aware that he was already filled in by the younger boy. 

"You wanna apologize?" You nodded as he squished your cheeks in his hands and leaned in to kiss your pouty lips. 

"Later on! Now's the time for evening lunch and getting this food in your tummy without it backfiring!" 

You laughed at how smoothly he eased your worries. After eating properly, you apologised to jaemin which he accepted but not before crying like a little boy he was!

Bonus :

KUN

"Yangyang what the heck are you doing near y/n. I told you to keep your meaningless books away from her!" Kun felt like his blood pressure would shot up anytime soon.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh really? What's the book that you are reading to her?"

"How to walk like a pro when you are only 2 months old! I want the baby to be high class like me."

Kun's hands found refuge in his hair as he groaned at the boy. Now he needed to read all the books that could possibly reverse yangyang's teachings.

"There is no such book available."

"Yeah that's why i wrote it by myself. Pulled an all nighter but when the baby would start walking at only 2 months of age, you'd thank me!"

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct 127 reactions #wayv reactions #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #nct father au #jaehyun scenarios #nct mafia #nct mafia reactions #wayv mafia #nct x reader #nct dream reactions

[loupettes]

I needed a little break from writing doomsday, and this came out today instead. I hope you enjoy some Nine/Rose fluff!

H I R A E T H

SUMMARY: Nine/Rose. After leaving the Doctor alone in his grief, Rose is still upset over what happened that day he left her and Mickey on that spaceship for Reinette. She goes to find him and confront him and her feelings, but runs into somebody she could never have imagined to instead.

TAGS: fluff, hurt//comfort, romance, missing scene

Read on AO3: hiraeth

***

They sat, Rose and Mickey, at the table in the kitchen, both sipping their tea now in silence. The tour of the TARDIS had been short to say the least, mostly because she couldn’t really focus on much else other than the love of her life having fallen in love with somebody else within the space of half a day, maximum.

She shuddered, and scrunched her nose to finish the last of her tea. Well, not the last; she still had a fair bit left, but it had gone cold and just tasted a bit like sewage water at that point, so she didn’t particularly see the appeal in spending any longer pretending it was still a decent cup of tea.

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

***

They sat, Rose and Mickey, at the table in the kitchen, both sipping their tea now in silence. The tour of the TARDIS had been short to say the least, mostly because she couldn’t really focus on much else other than the love of her life having fallen in love with somebody else within the space of half a day, maximum.

She shuddered, and scrunched her nose to finish the last of her tea. Well, not the last; she still had a fair bit left, but it had gone cold and just tasted a bit like sewage water at that point, so she didn’t particularly see the appeal in spending any longer pretending it was still a decent cup of tea.

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

She managed to not raise suspicion from the man opposite her when she sighed, but when her cup hit the table a little more forcibly than she had intended, Mickey raised his eyebrow.

“Take it it’s still not a good time to ask?”

Rose threw him a glare; she was still quite irritated by his smug-but-trying-to-hide-it expression. “No, it isn’t.”

His brow pinched, and for a moment he looked sorry for her. Not in a pitiful way, but in a... sorry kind of way — except, he wasn’t the one who should be sorry. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it.

“M’ gonna go for a walk,” she mumbled, the chair grazing loudly across the floor as she forced herself to her feet.

Mickey again looked as though he might say something, but again, thought better of it. But Rose was just irritated enough to ask,

“What?”

“Just… don’t go looking for him, okay?” he tried. “Give the man some space.”

Rose grunted. “He can have all the bloody space he wants.”

And with that, she left the kitchen. She was exhausted to recognise her feet were, unsurprisingly, steering her towards the control room, and she could feel with every step how regretful she was about to be if she reached that room. So she pulled every last piece of willpower she had left to stop in her tracks and think.

Should she go and talk to him? She folded her arms and chewed the inside of her cheek in deliberation. She was torn, because she wanted so desperately to talk to him — her friend above all else after all — but he had so horribly hurt her today that she was in half a mind to storm out of this TARDIS for good. She tried, she really did, to feel for him, and she took a step out of her own mind for just one moment to consider he had just lost somebody close to him. Even if her heart was breaking, it was at that thought that they shattered completely.

This was ridiculous, she thought, as her feet once more began to take her to the control room. He quite clearly wanted space, and Mickey only confirmed so much with his Manly Suspicions — seeing you right now isn’t going to make him feel any better.

She grunted, and her steps had a little more purpose to them now. Because it was so horrible to be the last person he wanted to see. He had never, not in their entire time together, been one to regret her presence, to make her feel like she was unwanted even just in a moment of grief.

Calm down, she thought, as she knew she was nearing the control room. The only thing that would make this a thousand times worse is if you burst into the control room in righteous rage.

So, she deliberately slowed down her pace as she wondered just exactly which approach she was going to take. But she found that, the closer she got to the control room, the less control she had over her intentions. So her footing sped up once more, and her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the control room.

She was more than disorientated, then, when the last person she expected to see was now standing in the exact same place as he was when she left him.

“Wha—”

He looked up at her with a frown, a frown she hadn’t seen in oh so many months, and she felt her heart sink to see that daft old, gorgeous, face. For a moment, she forgot that this was completely impossible, being so used to it these days after all, and her breath caught in her throat to see that terribly dusty old leather jacket, those baggy black scruffy trousers that seemed far too big for him and those eyes, good god those eyes were so bloody beautiful that she almost cried there and then to see them once more.

Those eyes that were currently looking back at her in utter bewilderment.

She shook her head and herself back to her senses. The Doctor quickly looked at the door at the end of the ramp and distractedly pointed to it, looking back at her once more in disarray. “What you doin’ there?”

His familiar yet somehow unexpected Northern accent seemed most alerting to her, and sparked the return of her own puzzlement.

“What are you doin’ there?”

“I just— you were— you said—” he stuttered, looking back and forth between her and the door. He seemed to only look to her for an explanation, which baffled her, because she was hoping he would explain. The two stared at each other in complete perplexity for a minute at least, before Rose was first to break the silence.

“This a trick?”

He blinked. “What?”

“This. You, here. The TARDIS trickin’ me or somethin’?”

“Why on Earth would the TARDIS be tricking you?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, folding her arms and resting her weight on one leg. “‘Cos you were a right knob today and maybe she thought I wouldn’t strangle you if you looked like that.”

He was surely stupefied by the force of her words. “Bloody hell, I saved your life today and that’s how you thank me?”

Her mouth hung agape at that, and she quickly scanned her memories today and confirmed, very quickly, that he had in fact not saved her life at any point today. Not even when he stumbled into her’s and Mickey’s capture, drunk, and toyed with the droids for a bit while they held a rather sharp blade to her throat before pouring whatever was left of his wine onto their heads; she was still too furious to consider that ‘saving her life’.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed incredulously, “Do tell me at what point today you so valiantly came to my aid.”

He echoed her scoff. “I said thank you—”

“You did not you little liar!”

“Bloody hell, you’re a lot snappier than you were five minutes ago!”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t even here five minutes ago—”

“Which reminds me, what are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrowed at him; quite clearly, they were going to go round in circles asking questions unless one of them tried to at least figure it out. She took a deep breath, and spoke aloud her thought process. “Right. So, obviously we’re not talking about the same thing, unless you experienced today completely differently to me — which actually might explain your behaviour—” she stopped when she felt her spine pricking with heat, and shook her head “— never mind. And unless the TARDIS is playing tricks on me, and you’re still, well, you, then we’re not — this isn’t—”

She sighed in frustration, still trying to understand the concept of time being relative — whatever that means. The Doctor seemed only to understand her, and he nodded slowly.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I didn’t just offer you to come with me, did I?”

Her heart sank; of all the emotions she was feeling, of all the frustration at being in a situation unknown, of having her first reaction to a man she missed with everything she had being bewilderment over the absolute love she normally had to see his face, her only response was to breathe a very unsteady and deeply sorrowful,

“No.”

He nodded, again slowly. “But— and I’m losing my other leg to this one now— I’m assuming you, at one point, in fact, do end up coming with me?"

Her lips pulled tight as she fought back against saying or indicating anything that might trigger some sort of paradox at having run into a previous him and altering their future, and she sort of expected she might spontaneously vanish at any moment. Her lack of response must have affirmed his question, and his eyes grew wide.

“Crikey. Right then.”

“I should—“ she started, pointing behind her to the door but not really able to move there just yet “— I should probably, erm…”

He looked back at her for a moment, his brow still drawn in concern, before he gave her the smallest, yet still most warm smile that simply melted her.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered.

The relief she felt swept over her in a blanket so comforting that her feet all too easily took her to him, and she blurted, “You have no idea how much I needed to hear you say that.”

He grinned the most terribly beautiful toofy grin, but she didn't process in enough time — or care too much to do anything about — the look of slight panic when she practically tumbled into his arms, into a hold so comforting that she let out a small sob. She felt the relief, her whole body lightening and untightening to feel him, less skinny and tall and against the ever so soft fabric of a jumper rather than an oxford. She wished she could have seemed a little less desperate as she clung to him while he awkwardly — but sincerely — held her in return, but just having him there, against everything she understood to be possible, was the only thing she could possibly need right now and she felt alleviated.

“I’m probably breaking about eight hundred laws here but I literally don’t care anymore,” she mumbled, only half-jokingly, into his jumper, “You left me on a spaceship three thousand years into the future so you can fix it.”

“Oi!” he snapped, and she was relieved to hear he wasn’t actually annoyed. “I haven’t done anythin’, remember?”

She nodded. “You’re right, he can fix it.”

The Doctor had always known how to read her, even if she sometimes thought he didn’t. Even after little more than a day of having known her, to this him here now, he recognised her belligerence and only seemed to find it bemusing.

“You’ve got a lot of faith in him then, if you can think he can fix anything.”

She sighed deeply into his jumper, against the sounds of his steady hearts beneath her ear that sounded different somehow, like they weren’t quite hers yet even if they were beating for her now.

“I really miss you.”

The truth in her voice sounded, even to her, so very pained. She wondered what he must be thinking, why this woman whom had only just turned him down now clung to him in the most ridiculous of ways, close to tears as she told him she missed him. But he didn’t ask questions, instead he only felt it, straight away, by the way his arms ever so slightly tightened around her to more resemble a hug she knew was only hers, and one only he could give her. But she could feel him awkward beneath her nonetheless, and ever so regretfully she pulled away, but not quite able to stop herself from reaching her palm to touch the side of his face as she took him in. All those hardened edges, that stubble and those lips and slightly wonky nose.

“Oh, we’re— okay, so there’s an awful lot of touching between us in the future,” he remarked.

She giggled, and drew her palm away to sit on the jumpseat, patting the spot next to her. “Well, yes, I think we can say that—” she frowned, and stopped herself “—wait, can I say that?”

She looked to him for confirmation, and he shrugged. “Tell you what, if you start to fade out of existence, I’ll let you know, as long as you do the same for me. Deal?”

She chuckled, and shook the hand he had held out to her. “Deal.”

He sat down next to her, pinching his trousers and shuffling about to settle in a little more comfortably. She was relieved to know she hadn’t forgotten a single thing about him, which meant that she knew he was feeling most blindsided by her spontaneous and unprecedented visit, displaying a lot more familiarity with him than he, at that moment, had with her. For whatever reason, and she thinks she knows what, he was, for the time being at least, comfortable with putting aside his own reservations about the implications this might have on time and space if it meant that she could find comfort herself.

She gave him a shy grin. “So I turned you down then, hmm?”

“Great,” he tutted. “Nice to know it was me you said no to, and not the flying-through-space bit.”

She nudged herself to the side to bump his shoulder and chuckled. “Well, I’m here now, so you must have done something right.”

“Oh, I don’t know. From the sounds of it, I haven’t done anything right today.”

It was a suggestion, an invitation to continue, if she wanted to.

The sinking of her heart at the reminder of her today was terrible. So terrible, in fact, that she couldn’t find her words, and only shook her head sadly in response. The soft sound of his leather jacket as his chest rose and fell to his sigh somehow made it all that much harder. When he started to awkwardly pick at the stray cotton string poking out at the knee of his trousers, she managed to find her smile.

“Mention the time bit,” she whispered, turning to look at him, and he looked back at her with his eyebrow ever so slightly raised. “That’s what does it for me, in the end.”

He chastised himself, “I didn’t— I didn’t mention the bloody time bit— well, no wonder you said no.”

“You completely messed up with that one,” she chuckled, closing her eyes to the deep and flat way he said ‘wonder’, and continued, “Actually, know what else you messed up with?”

“Wish I hadn’t bloody offered to stay and listen, now—”

“The regeneration thing,” she scoffed. “Didn’t want to mention that that happens at any point, no?”

“Regenerat— bloody hell, I’m being confronted by a lot of my future in one sitting.”

Her eyes widened at that, perhaps having gone too far, but he grinned.

“Na, it’s alright," he assured her in response. "Promise. I’m not so unused to running into myself in the future, I know how this works, don’t worry.”

Her lips curled into a bashful smile, knowing full well he almost certainly knew the consequences of learning of one’s own future and that, in next to no circumstances, was it a good thing. Still, he had this thing about him, this assurance that he would, somehow, make it okay, and she couldn’t deny his invitation.

“You— I mean— well,” she flustered, realising this was much more difficult that she would have thought. “He... yeah, no, you—”

“Say ‘he’,” he encouraged. “It’ll make it easier, promise.”

Again, with that word, with the softness in which he delivered it, she felt this unravelling as her shoulders loosened where she could just be her. She didn’t have to worry about sounding all clever, like she knew what she was talking about, and now she didn’t even need to worry about the implications of something she’s been told can never ever happen, because he was with her. She could barely keep herself together with it all, with how much she just missed him and wanted him back.

“It’s been a bit… it’s been quite hard. Between us, recently,” she admitted unevenly, but once she felt the relief that came with uncorking the ridiculously tight pressure throughout her whole body, she was powerless to stop herself from blurting out the rest. “You regenerated not too long ago and sometimes I think you’re still the same, and sometimes you— he —” she adjusted, it somehow feeling better to say ‘he’, now “— does things that are so… not you.”

There was a silence in the control room, besides the familiar hum which had of course not altered even within this nonsensical situation. It kept her quite steady, actually.

“He sounds a bit like a prat.”

“You’re not wrong, there.”

“Tell you what,” he began, squaring his shoulders. “Since I’m him and he’s me, why don’t you tell me what he did. I’ll see what I can help you with.”

She snorted. “Told me I was gonna — and I quote — ‘wither and die’, left me stranded on a spaceship three thousand years into the future, fell in love with some posh French woman and picked her over all of time and space, to name just the ones over the last twenty-four hours.”

The Doctor was quiet, and she just had to glance at his expression at that. He did indeed look overwhelmed, as she thought he might.

“That definitely doesn’t sound like me — you sure you weren't just fooled into thinking he was?”

She snickered, although he wasn’t too far off her true musings at this point. “I think when you invited Mickey along, I should have clocked on.”

He really did jolt back in shock, then. “Rickey? As in that sad old sap out there, Rickey?”

“Mmm.”

“The one shaking like a bloody leaf and clinging onto your leg like a wuss?”

“That’s the one.”

He shuddered, and it only made her giggle more. “My god, what do I become?”

“Now you see my problem.”

“Alright, well, I can’t excuse the wither and die bit—” he paused, thinking “— nor the spaceship bit, I suppose. Or even the falling in love bit—”

“Fat lot of good, you are, then.”

“Oi! —” he poked her ribs “— You’re a lot less polite than I remember you being.”

Her smile was so wide that it ached; being here with him and laughing like before, before all the regenerations and the Sarah-Janes and the aristocratic French mistresses was a blissful healing of a wound she had long since thought had sealed up.

“I’m going to need some context over the wither and die bit,” he spoke quietly, a little jest still to his voice.

She frowned, honestly quite against the idea of reliving that conversation last night, and especially not when it was one with another, less recognisable, face than with the one next to her. “I dunno. I guess… I know what you—”

“He.”

She giggled, relieved, and he nudged her knee with his. “I know what he was trying to say, that his lifespan is a heck of a lot longer than mine, and it’s not as if it’s fun to watch us ‘wither and die’, as he so eloquently put it, but it still hurt. Almost like—” she scrunched her nose, thinking of what it was she wanted to say before she heard his calm and patient breathing, his breath and remembered who she was talking to “—like it’s so distasteful for him, that we grow old and all mangly and he just has to sit there and watch it and hope it gets over and done with quickly so he can move on.”

The Doctor was still beside her, his arms folded and leant back while she spoke. He seemed to be mulling something over, and when she looked up at him and saw his profile, his terribly large nose and sharp jaw, she all but melted into his side, tugging on his arm so that she could lean against him.

“He made me feel so bad for being human, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like that.”

He was trying to keep himself still beside her, and she knew he most probably felt a little uncomfortable at their proximity, but the fact that he was keeping so still for her reminded her just how much he cared for her in the first place — right from day one.

“Christ, give him a slap for me when you see him again will you?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She thought about the two of them, if they could meet tonight, and only loved the idea of this him squaring up on the new one for daring to hurt a woman he had known less than forty-eight hours. And she grinned to know that he would, as well, because she knew just how important she had been to him right from the start. He didn’t need to say it, and she felt it even now with a new face, that she was still the most important person to him.

Well, up until today, she had.

“Alright, so you say the spaceship thing—“

“Yep,” she affirmed, punctuating the ‘p’ with an indignant pop. “Rode on a horse through a time window, severed all links with the ship and the future.”

“And you say Rickey was with you?”

“Yeah! Left us both behind.”

He thought for a moment. “How’d you know he didn’t think you were on the back of the horse and he was only trying to leave Rickey behind” — she couldn’t help but laugh at his old dry humour that he carried off so effortlessly, something else she only now realised she missed —“cos I can tell you that seems the only reasonable explanation to that one.”

“God will you stop,” she insisted through her giggles, “Rick—Mickey is not that bad!”

“And on that,” he continued, seemingly unwilling to stop despite her persistent chuckles, “I really cannot explain his decisions behind asking Mickey to join us, you’ll have to ask him yourself, sorry.”

He had such a wonderfully deadpan humour, this one, and for a bloke that wasn’t actually from the North, he certainly could have fooled her. To some, he came off as cold and unaffectionate, but to her, he was hers; she knew his humour so well and had grown so fond of him and the ways in which he made her laugh, knowing that he was doing it deliberately as often as he could only to make her giggle more.

“Alright, and what was that last one?” he asked after a moment. “Something about some French woman?”

Ah, yes. That.

Perhaps he knew exactly what by the way she flinched at his words, because he didn’t follow it up with anything at first. He chose his words well, it would seem, when he prompted,

“Something absurd about choosing her over all of time and space, if I remember you right.”

She fiddled with cuticles around her nails, only realising now how hard it was to talk about — or even think about.

“Something like that.”

And with her sigh, she released her hold on him, withdrawing back into herself at the way everything about her seemed to clench in pain. He wasn’t too unused to it all, then, when she felt his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She smiled softly at the gesture that did indeed loosen her a little, but he seemed to notice that it hadn’t entirely when he tapped her shoulder to bring her to lean back against him.

“Well, I will admit this new bloke seems like an absolute git, but I know I can speak for him when I say he doesn’t fall in love very easily at all.”

She swallowed, her throat so painfully tight. “Yeah, m’ starting to think the same.”

He was quiet, and she was really fighting against herself to not fall completely back in love with a man she knew was gone forever. She did love him though, this him, and she missed him so much that the pressure inside her only seemed to worsen until, finally, he spoke quietly,

“Who was she, did you say?”

She didn’t want to respond immediately, though the name rested just at the tip of her tongue, echoing around her mind as it had been all day. So she took a moment's pause before she replied, “Someone called Madame de Pompadour?”

“Ah, yes,” he recalled. “Eighteenth century? Uncrowned queen of France?”

Rose sighed heavily, before nodding her head.

“Sounds average,” he dismissed. “Meet one of them every day, I do. Don’t think it’s quite like either of us to fall in love with somebody so ordinary.”

She had to remind herself, as she had done so many times over the last twenty-four hours, that she was indeed only that: ordinary. Nobody different, nothing that made her stand out from the likes of Sarah Jane or bloody uncrowned queens of France and certainly not one the Doctor, the last remaining lord of time, would so easily fall in love with.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, a welcome disruption to her morose thoughts. “I should probably, er, go and find, well, you— time, was it, you said? That’s what’ll do the trick?”

She sniffed, reluctant to let him go, but she did loosen her hold to allow him free. “Time,” she affirmed.

As he stood, and she too, it all felt far too formulaic for them, even if he had only just met her very recently. She couldn’t bear to let him go like this, to remember this meeting so sad, so she looked at him sheepishly with her arms hesitantly outstretched and said,

“Can I?”

He seemed to know exactly what she was asking when he pulled her in for a hug. It took them a moment of adjustment to settle; she being so used to his new more slender form, and he not being used to her at all. But when they did, when everything finally slotted into place and they were them once more, she exhaled and felt all that pain and anguish just… release. He didn’t take it from her, and she didn’t know where it went, but being here in his arms when she had thought she never could have been again felt like the most blissful recompense following such wretched and unjust anguish.

“I miss you,” she whimpered, holding on to him tighter.

“Rose?”

The sound of her name on his lips was a comfort in itself. “Mmm?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah?”

“That bloke of yours,” he paused, and she realised it was for dramatic effect when he whispered, “he’s actually me.”

She giggled despite herself. “After everything I’ve told you about him, you still want to assign your name to him?”

“He does sound a bit like a prat, I’ll admit, but he must have done some good things, too, surely?” She shook her head begrudgingly into his chest. “You wouldn’t still be here if he hadn’t.”

She smiled sadly, and reasoned, “I suppose he did regenerate for me.”

“Blimey,” he flustered, genuinely quite surprised by the sounds of it. “I’ve regenerated many times before, and for many different reasons, but I can tell you never for somebody else.”

She smiled; although she had never really known exactly what happened on satellite 5, she had only managed to learn from him that it was to save her life. He didn’t particularly like to talk about it, she gathered, not because he regretted doing so, but in a way she couldn’t quite decipher. Like he was afraid, almost — although of what, she wasn’t sure.

“You, Rose Tyler, must be quite extraordinary indeed.”

She held on to him only tighter as she felt his words find their home deep within her heart, in a way she knew they would never be able to be coaxed out of again by not even herself. And she knew the man she thought she was going to see tonight felt the same, really, if she was honest with herself. She realised, then, that she wouldn’t have been able to hear if he had said it in that estuary accent; it was specifically him saying it in this northern accent tonight that rang deep and true for both men.

And with that, she felt the imminent dread of knowing she needed to leave.

“I probably need to go tell him I’ve made some paradox, then,” she sighed jokingly, although a part of her wished she wasn’t. If she could only have this, this sweet memory of the two of them at a time where she needed to be reminded that it would always be just the two of them, then pulling away from him now might be less tortuous.

“No need,” he said, and then he tilted his head and whispered, “Looks like he’s already fixed it for you.”

She frowned, but even as she tried to process how he — the other him — could have possibly already done anything to fix this, her mistake, her desperate need to see her old friend and deepest love of her life just one last time in a time of such heartbreak, her heart swelled to know that of course he had.

“No paradox?” she whispered back, afraid anybody other than him might hear her.

He nodded, and she felt him kiss her hair. “No paradox, if he’s done it right. Now go, quick, before we find out if he hasn’t.”

#nine x rose #ninth doctor #rose tyler #loup.fic #dw fic

[mcwriting]

Lost in Rome

hello, friends! Ever since "La Vita Dolce," I've wanted to write something else involving Italy and at least one Italian phrase, and so this lil story was born! Hope you all enjoy!

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1488

Warnings: mentions of drinking, vv slight language

★

You had been walking around Rome for what felt like an eternity.

(It had only been like 30 minutes)

You knew the bar was right near Piazza Navona, but you'd only been to that part of the city one other time, having been staying south on the other side of the river in Trastevere.

You felt embarrassed knowing you were dragging your friends around the city without much of a guide, but you were too stubborn to admit that you were actually lost.

"Maybe we should've gone to Bar San Calisto again. It was cheap and close but noooo. I just had to look up a 'best bars in Rome' list" you thought as you continued to trudge on.

Not only were you lost, but you also didn't have the ability to look up where you were going, since you'd decided to go cheap and not buy an international plan or a vpn, choosing to only using wifi so you'd "stay in the moment."

That moment seemed stupid now that every marble wall and cobblestone street started to meld together in your brain as it continued to darken.

A trip to Rome was something you'd been wanting to do for years, so when your university offered up the chance to go study abroad for 4 weeks, you immediately began scrounging up the funds to go, even scoring a scholarship based on the fact that you'd taken Italian classes in school.

You'd only been there a week but thankfully had bonded with your roommate before even going, having struck up a conversation at the informational meeting the semester before. Since then, you had also bonded with those in the room next door, them sticking to you as their translator.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore, stopping.

"Okay, look, guys. I'm really sorry but I literally have no idea where we are," you admitted, feeling guilty. Everyone else smiled.

"That's okay! This place is beautiful! I'm sure we'll find it eventually," your roommate, Olivia, said.

"Yeah. Didn't you say it was at Piazza Navona?" Aaron, one of your neighbors, asked. You nodded. "Well as long as we can find that, then we're basically there!"

After some wandering, your group found itself in the square in front of the Pantheon, which was a step in the right direction, but you were determined to actually find the right place.

There was a hotel right there, so you quickly stepped in to ask the desk worker to point you towards the Piazza, who explained that it was only a couple streets East of where you were.

Relieved, you and your friends quickly walked that way, breathing out a collective sigh when you walked into the giant open square, looking around at the familiar structures from the second day of class when you'd toured the area.

"Sooo... where's this bar?" Aaron's roommate Joseph asked.

You all circled the square from the inside and out a couple times, not seeing any signs with the name "Bar del Fico Roma" anywhere.

Dread started to wash over you as you realized the website must not have meant the bar was actually on the square, but was somewhere nearby. You felt stupid for not screenshotting the website page or, you know, actually looking it up first.

"Fine, that's it! I'm marching up to the next person I see and asking where this darn place is. We've made it this far!" you said, exasperated.

The first thing that caught your eye was a group of people who looked close to your age, talking in a small group. They were pretty well dressed, typical of a young Italian, so you immediately started over towards them, expecting them to be the most helpful in giving directions.

"Wait, y/n!" Olivia protested, but you ignored her, walking between a shorter boy and taller girl.

You couldn't help but sigh out the words as you started speaking, placing a light hand on the boy's arm.

“Scusa, potresti dirme dov’è la-" "Excuse me, could you tell me where the-"

"Sorry! I don't speak Italian!" the boy answered in a British accent, turning to face you with hands in surrender.

You both seemed taken aback when your eyes met.

Tom Holland?

"Um, oh what was the word for sorry in Italian again?" the actor in front of you asked, looking to one of his many Spider-man costars around you. Before one could answer, you blurted out one for him.

"It's 'mi dispiace' or 'perdonami,' depending on how you want to say it," you started, realizing how stupid you probably sounded to be teaching a world famous actor Italian words after accidentally infiltrating his conversation.

However, Tom was more shocked by your American accent. Your eyes still widened as you realized what was actually going on.

"Oh my gosh, what am I saying, um. I- I'm so sorry. We're just trying to find this bar and got lost and-"

"Which bar?" he asked in return. You furrowed your brows and looked at him funny, wondering why he would care. He seemed to take notice. "It's just that, we're also headed to a bar and can't seem to find it, either."

You chuckled at the situation, baffled.

"Well, um, it's called 'Bar del Fico Roma.'"

Tom's eyes widened.

"Hey, that's where we're headed!" Jacob Batalon cut in, making you look at him and the rest of the actors in surprise. You could see your own friends shock from your peripheral.

"No way! Really?" Joseph said for you. The group nodded.

"I just got it pulled up on maps," Zendaya said, holding up her phone. Realization suddenly hit that she of all people was the one who you had been standing next to this whole time.

You and your friends all gasped incredulously, amazed at your luck after spending all that time lost.

"If you want, we can show you the way," Tom offered.

"What? No, no we couldn't impose like that," you began, knowing your friends were probably internally screaming at you.

"Oh come on," Tom responded. "We're all going to the same place anyways, not like we won't see you there. It's barely a five minute's walk."

"Seriously, y/n. Do you really want to go around asking more locals for help when we've got it right here?" Olivia asked, raising a good point.

"Alright, fine," you started, rolling your eyes. You turned back to Tom. "You know what they say, 'when in Rome.' Seriously, thank you. All of you. You're definitely saving our asses."

He chuckled as Zendaya began leading the way. Though the sun had set, lights throughout the roads and emanating from various shops lit the way.

Without meaning to, you fell into step with Tom, easily matching his gait as you crossed through the bustling piazza.

"So what brings you to Italy?" He asked. "You don't quite sound like a local."

"We're studying abroad through our university. Unfortunately for me, these goons keep following me 'cause I speak the language," you joked, causing Olivia to slap the back of her hand to your shoulder.

"Ah, I see. I was definitely confused when you went from Italian to American in an instant. Y/n, was it?"

"Yes! Yeah, that's me. And you're obviously Tom Holland."

"You better remember that later, he tends to forget his own name after a few drinks," Zendaya called back to you, causing the group to laugh.

"Hey! That was one time!" Tom defended himself. "Not my fault I was going through a breakup!"

He turned back to you.

"Don't listen to them. I'm quite fun to drink with. You should see for yourself."

"Is that some sort of offer..?" you questioned playfully, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"If everyone's alright with it, I figured you all would join us at the lounge. I'm more than happy to pay for a round or two," he winked.

The group was approaching the bar, and any anxiety you'd had about finding it finally quelled when you could see people outside laughing and drinking as they enjoyed the summer night.

"Hmm... I don't know..." you sing-songed, looking up at the sky.

"Dude are you crazy?" Aaron exclaimed, causing the others to argue in agreement with him.

"Okay, okay. Of course we would be happy to join you for a drink. Thank you."

Both groups cheered in approval.

"The only thing I ask in return is a little lesson in Italian and, if all goes well, a pretty lady's number at the end of the night," he said smoothly, giving you a look.

The others looked between you with wide eyes, surprised at his open flirting. You couldn't help but smile and blush before replying.

"I think that's something I can manage. Now come on, your first lesson will be in ordering drinks," you said, grabbing his hand to lead him in what was about to be the best night of his life.

And yours.

★

A/N: Okay fun fact I thought up this concept immediately after publishing La Vita Dolce and just... never wrote it? The entire work was actually written around the one Italian phrase I used haha.

Anyways... Hope you all enjoyed as per usual and feel free to hmu anytime about anything :)

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh

#lost in rome #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland drabble #tom holland spiderman

[mc-lukanette]

"So... you gotta go today?" Marinette asked during the uncomfortable silence between them.

"Yeah," Luka muttered in reply. "Dad's coming to get me."

"Y'still don't know when you get to come back?"

Deep down, she already knew the answer.

He shook his head. "No. He says that I should go if I wanna be a rockstar like him though."

She already knew that too, as they'd had the discussion multiple times before. When she'd first become friends with Luka, there was a connection there that she wanted to hold onto, and Luka felt the same way about her as well. They played with each other more than any of their other friends, sharing their creative energies ever since day one.

They hadn't expected that to have to end one day, especially so soon. Luka had always been into music, which made the natural next step being a rockstar. He'd initially been hesitant at the idea of leaving her, but Marinette hadn't wanted to hold him back and thus encouraged the idea. It only made sense to get as big of a headstart as possible, so it'd be wasteful to not take advantage of the offer.

Being as young as they were, neither had a great concept of the time they'd have to be apart, but they knew it was a big deal and that made it feel like forever even though Luka hadn't gone anywhere yet. Marinette hated that the atmosphere was so sad when they were supposed to be enjoying their time together, but she couldn't stop reminding herself that this was the last time they'd see each other for some unknown amount of years.

Then, Luka spoke up, breaking up her thoughts. "D-did...did you ever get 'em?"

She glanced up at him, confused. "Hm?" Realization struck a moment later. "O-oh! You still...?"

He nodded eagerly, and Marinette turned to rummage through the little purse she had slung over her shoulder. She felt her fingers touch the little box she'd been searching for, then pulled it to show it to him.

"I-I'm sorry it took so long," she murmured guiltily. "I had to work a bunch for Papa and Maman so I could buy 'em!"

"With money?" he questioned, suddenly baffled. "Y'didn't have to do that..."

"Maybe, b-but I was scared that they'd break too soon if I made them myself, but I swear I made 'em look nice and everything!"

She opened the box to show him, finally revealing the jewelry inside: a pair of promise rings that she decorated herself. She'd had to be extremely careful not to tell her parents what they were for, as she was smart enough to know that they would've said that they were too young; how they weren't even teenagers yet.

Marinette didn't care though, and neither did Luka.

"S-since—" Marinette steeled herself up, then looked at Luka with resolve. "Since you gotta go, you better become the best rockstar ever, okay? And then I'll become a famous fashion designer and I'll spoil you a bunch!"

He was already grinning at the idea, nodding in agreement. "I'll spoil you too and wear all the stuff you make." He giggled. "The girl ones too."

She giggled in return, then turned her attention to the rings. She'd colored hers pink and white while his was blue and black, and Luka held his hand out excitedly for the latter. She was a little clumsy with it, having never put a ring on someone's hand before, but still managed to slip it onto Luka's ring finger. She had previously considered practicing at home by putting her ring on her own hand, but had stubbornly refused the idea, reminding herself that Luka was supposed to put it on her and anything else was wrong.

Luka slipped hers on as well and she admired it, appreciating the white and pink against her skin. It made the situation feel all the more real, which was both exciting and sad.

Feeling the emotions start taking over, she took a breath.

"A-and then we'll get married," she said resolutely, giving him a hopeful look, "and we'll live in a house together, and you won't have to go away ever again?"

It'd been a mistake to bring up the fact that he was leaving, as the thought brought tears to her eyes. He must've noticed too, as he immediately outstretched his arms for her. She dove for him, hugging him tight and not missing how his usually gentle hug was tighter as well.

"I'll miss you," she whispered, silently wondering what she'd do without the person that made her happiest.

He squeezed her tighter. "I'll miss you too." At the sound of her small sob, his voice grew pained. "M-marinette, please don't cry."

She sniffled, then pulled away to look at his face, pointing out half-accusingly, "Y-you're crying too."

His tears spilled over at the realization, and they went right back to hugging, unwilling to pull away until they were forced to.

She just hoped everything would be okay.

—————

Marinette sighed, leaning on the counter and playing with the petals of a nearby azalea. It was one of those days where she couldn't help feeling down, her mind drifting back to childhood where everything was easier and she'd had everything figured out. She'd been so sure about becoming a fashion designer, so famous that she was known by everyone for making the best and most fashionable clothes possible.

Yet, she'd found her way into a flower shop instead. Instead of the grand places she imagined herself going to, she'd gotten a quaint little place that featured flowers over fabric. Her various bouquets had their signature Marinette appeal, but fashion was little more than a hobby for her nowadays.

She hadn't regretted it, at least for the most part. She'd had expectations of the fashion world that simply hadn't measured up to her childhood dreams, and the feeling of selling scarves and outfits to strangers ended up being so much different compared to giving the same exact things to her friends and family. Put simply, it was never meant to happen, and she'd long since grown content with that.

As she leaned further on the counter, trying to be more level with the azalea, a soft 'clink' noise brought her back to attention. She looked down, noting the ring - that her fingers had long since outgrown - dangling from the string of her necklace. Her gaze softened as she brought her hand up to hold it in her palm, gently stroking the surface with her fingers. The familiar white and pink colors had faded slightly, but the memories that came with them had not, and she often found herself lost in them.

To a degree, she knew that it was silly to hang onto it - they were adults and Luka had probably thrown his away a long time ago - but she thought too fondly of her friendship with him, and there was a romantic in her that giggled at the memory of two kids wanting so badly to stay together that they'd marry as soon as possible.

And really, Luka had never truly left her. She'd gained a habit long ago of looking at the ring whenever she felt down, imagining what he might do to comfort her had he been there. Even in her flower shop, there were hints of blues and blacks strewn about the pinks and whites, and the bell that rang whenever the door opened was inspired by how Luka always liked the bell of her parents' bakery (not that she'd ever tell them that it was Luka and not them who made the bell happen, but still).

It was almost like he really did live there.

She sighed, taking the ring in her fingers and turning it every way possible. She hadn't heard from him since the day they'd been forced apart, but she imagined that he was too busy, or maybe just forgot about her. Jagged probably wanted the absolute best for him and took him all over the world to do it, dropping him off wherever for the sake of inspiration. The paparazzi must've found the story extremely boring as well, as she'd never read or heard about him. She couldn't help being amused at the idea that Luka had stayed as sweet and pure as he was when they were kids, making covering the son of Jagged Stone somehow the least newsworthy thing in the world.

Part of the whole "not knowing" thing was her fault. She supposed she could've asked Anarka or Juleka for a way to contact Luka, but the little girl inside her was afraid. Even if their promise meant nothing, she hadn't gone on to do what she'd told Luka that she would while he was still out and about, probably on the other side of the world, ready to make it as a rockstar. She felt guilty in a way, wondering if maybe things would've been different had she somehow convinced everyone to let her go with him. Maybe she could've gotten used to the idea of being a fashion designer, and they would've really been together all that time, and—

Marinette snapped herself out of her daydream, having to remind herself that she was supposed to be working, not reminiscing or throwing out 'what-ifs' that she’d never know the answers to. Letting her ring fall back against her chest, she released a breath and went out to the back to look over all of her flowers. The day before then had already been rather uneventful, with a few random customers here and there, so she expected the rest of the day to be the same.

She was right, for the most part. Time passed by as it always did - a little slow, but she enjoyed her job so she didn't mind - and she was almost ready to go close the shop when the bell suddenly rang.

"Coming!" she called out, jogging out so she could see who her last customer of the day was. She silently hoped it'd be brief, wanting to go home and take a long bath after all the sad thoughts she let swirl around in her head.

Then, she actually saw who it was, and all thoughts ceased. The dim lighting of the shop cast a light on his blue and black hair, his form further illuminated by hints of moonlight showing through the glass windows at the front of the shop.

Luka.

She blinked, her mind finally catching up enough with reality to throw a thousand unvoiced questions. How did he get back without her hearing about it? What was he doing here? Why was he here?

At the last question in particular, she noticed that he didn't seem as surprised as she was, like he'd expected her to be there. His smile was even as warm as ever and just as soft despite his grown-up face.

As if he'd heard what was on her mind, he explained, "Rose said you'd be here." Though his posture was casual, there was a subtle hint of trepidation; perhaps fear that she would be upset somehow at the surprise.

She absolutely wasn't. In fact, her legs finally kicked in and she was rushing around the counter to reach him. There wasn't even time to think about how childish it might've seemed or worry that too much time had passed for Luka to care; he was already outstretching his arms for her, his smile even wider than before.

She collided with him, wrapping her arms around him while he did the same to her. He staggered slightly from her weight being thrown at him, but he didn't complain, and she noted that she fit into him even better than when they were kids. She took it as an opportunity to snuggle into him, inhaling a scent that was different yet familiar at the same time.

"I missed you," she murmured when she exhaled, though it was muffled by his jacket.

"I missed you too," he whispered in reply. "It's been too long."

She squeezed him a little harder, nodding against his chest. Though she had to steel herself up to do so, she pulled away from the hug just enough to make eye contact with him. "Yeah, way too long. I-I mean—" She sucked in a breath as she took him in up close, her hands flying up to cup his face. "Look at you!"

She stepped back to follow her own command, spreading her arms out to gesture at him. "I know it's been so many years so obviously you're older, but you're still you! It's just that you're even more you than before! You're so tall and mature and you got even more han—"

She cut herself off at the last second, though not because she caught what she almost blurted out. She'd been giving him a look up and down while she talked, and her eyes had finally noticed the faint glimmer on his wrist. She looked up at him to ask, but his eyes seemed to notice the same thing she did, only her necklace instead of his wrist.

Pointing, she asked sheepishly, "I-is that what I think it is?"

He glanced up at her, then smiled down at the object in question. Raising his left hand, he showed her the blue-and-black ring in full, which was attached to a band around his wrist. The ring itself was positioned at the front of his wrist rather than the back of it, right below his palm and centered roughly in the middle.

"You kept yours too," he observed softly.

"Oh, um..." She giggled, the notion seeming so much more meaningful now that she knew they'd both kept theirs. "Yeah, I'm—" She glanced down to admire her necklace, but stopped as she realized, "...still wearing my work outfit, oh my gosh, give me one second—"

Utterly mortified and wondering about how she must look right now, she turned to leave when Luka's arm shot out to catch her wrist, as if she'd disappear if he let her leave the room.

"Marinette, it's okay," he assured. Offering her a warm smile, he added, "You're beautiful."

She blushed, the red tint of her cheeks not helped by the fact that he was so blunt and shameless with the compliment. He really meant it and she knew it; Luka never said things he didn't mean.

"T-thanks." Pulling her hand away only to neaten herself up a bit, she smiled back at him and returned her gaze to his ring, eager to distract herself from the smooth comment. She noted lightly, "I thought about wearing mine on my wrist too, but I was always afraid of something happening to it, like I'd reach into something and it'd be gone when I pulled away."

He eased his posture, presumably because she wasn't running away now. Glancing off to the side, she could tell he was reminiscing when he replied, "Yeah, I couldn't really imagine wearing mine anywhere else except for here." He rose his hand again for emphasis.

She tilted her head, not understanding why that spot specifically was so important. Luka was apparently happy to explain it, moving both hands to pose them as if there was a guitar slung around his shoulders. His eyes darted over to the ring itself, and though Marinette couldn't see it due to the ring not facing her anymore, it only took her a few more seconds to realize that he'd chosen that spot because he could see the ring at all times that way.

The blush came back, and she tried to hide it - even if briefly - by turning away to walk back to the counter. She heard his footsteps behind her, but a glance his way proved that it was only to approach the counter itself, not follow her behind it. He was also amazingly calm and at ease dishing out such attacks on her heart, which was both delightful and confusing at the same time; delightful because it was Luka and he was genuine in everything he did, but confusing because...

She scratched her cheek, then slipped her hand down to rub awkwardly at her arm. "S-so, you said Rose told you I'd be here?"

He nodded, seeming unaware of where she was going with this.

She bit her lip, wondering if it made it worse to directly point it out something that was already obvious to her. Nevertheless, curiosity won over and she asked, "You're not... disappointed?"

He straightened, stunned. "Disappointed? Why would I be?"

Lowering her gaze to the floor, she shifted uncomfortably, "I said I'd become a fashion designer, but—"

His snort cut her off and her gaze jerked up to look at him. He immediately raised a hand, wordlessly assuring that he wasn't laughing at her.

"Sorry," he said, calming himself. "Anyway, I know it's not because you weren't able to do it. You just found a song you liked playing better, right?"

She was somewhere between surprised that he knew and amused that his tendency towards music metaphors hadn't gone away. "How'd you know?"

His smile softened. Resting his hands on the counter, he leaned onto it and explained, "I did think back then that I had to be a rockstar because of how much I loved music, but..." He shrugged sheepishly. "I was so young, I didn't even think there was any other option."

Marinette gaped. "Wait, you—you didn't become a rockstar then?"

With an affirming look, he continued, "I felt awful when I finally realized it. I left you to learn how to be a rockstar and I knew I'd be throwing all of Dad's teachings away, but I still couldn't enjoy the life he tried to make for me." He rubbed the back of his neck, almost looking embarrassed. "I've actually been here for a while now. I wanted to see you and Rose was happy to help, but I also wanted to have my life together first, music shop and all."

"Music shop?" she echoed curiously.

"Yeah, I...I wanted to be around music, but not in the way Dad and Mom are." He placed a hand to his chest. "I want to make instruments, and teach people how to play from the heart like I do. I wished I'd known it sooner too, because I can't imagine doing anything else."

It wasn't apparent on his face, but she could tell that there was a vulnerability there that he wouldn't have shared with anyone else. She felt touched, assuring, "I think that's a wonderful dream. Way better than just being a rockstar." Then, she laughed. "It's also way cooler than my reason for getting a flower shop."

"I'm sure it's not," he retorted with a smile. "I always thought you were cool, no matter what you did."

She ducked her head to hide herself, turning shy at the once again blunt compliment. It was as if he'd been making up for lost time when he hadn't been able to bombard her with praise.

She didn't entirely mind it.

"W-well," she began, "it was because of you, actually?"

He blinked in surprise. "Me?"

She nodded. "Yeah, just... even before I realized that fashion wasn't going to work out, I always loved flowers and gardening." She fidgeted, feeling like she sounded lame. "It reminded me of us."

He gaped at her, and she had to pretend not to see it so she could continue.

"You weren't around anymore, but seeing flowers anywhere brought me back to when we'd play on my balcony where all my plants were, or when I'd run onto the Liberty and there'd be all those flowers to greet me." She giggled at a memory of the one time she and Luka had grown a flower themselves; they’d nearly cried when it finally bloomed. "I guess... you stayed in everything I did, even after you left."

When the silence stretched, she tried to occupy herself by resting her hands on the counter and twiddling her fingers. It was only once Luka's hands reached out and held hers that she finally met his gaze again.

Despite the time apart, she could still feel the emotional weight of his expressions. Luka didn't always show a lot on the outside, but she felt it deep in her core.

"It was the same for me," he whispered, and she didn't have to ask what he meant with his ring glistening at her. He breathed up, saying on the exhale, "I'm so glad you haven't changed, Marinette."

Feeling relief and a slew of different emotions overwhelm her, she smiled at him. "I'm glad you haven't either."

They stayed in that moment for a while, and she realized that they really had picked right back up where they'd left off as kids, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. She'd lost a few friends over the years due to growing apart and lack of contact, but Luka was just—always there, no matter how far away he was, and now he was back for real.

He was a constant in her life, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"...Luka," she called gently, needing a moment to gather her resolve. "I—I know I can't spoil you as much as I promised, but... could I take you out sometime? And we could talk more?"

He gave her hands a gentle squeeze, the look in his eyes making her heart do a flip.

"You already spoiled me, Marinette," he assured, "and I'd love to."

She beamed at him, utterly floored by how happy she felt and how quickly all her feelings from childhood had come rushing back, as if no time had passed at all.

It was what she imagined Luka would call "a classic."

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #((IT'S OVER!!)) #((It's been so much fun! Thanks everyone!)) #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Hi again! I come to you today with a question that may simply be a continuity error, but I'm still interested in your thoughts! In the main story, le Comte *knows* it was MC that came through the door behind him. Yet in Comte's "One Night, Beneath the Crescent Moon" POV story, he said he "...had no idea of what would happen next... That she would end up using the same door and end up stuck on the other side." What's your take on it? Thanks in advance! 💛

Hiya! First off I wanna apologize for how long it took to reply oTL I had originally drafted a response and then lost it when I accidentally closed the tab, and whenever that happens I always have to like sufficiently mourn the words I lost 😂😂😂

But to answer your question! If I’m entirely honest, I can’t remember what it was Comte said exactly in the Main Story in regards to her entering the door. There could be a lot of explanations for him saying he “knew”: continuity error, him wanting to put her at ease by seeming “in control” of the situation (while he’s screaming internally), or maybe even him wanting to cast some doubt as to whether or not he’s a person that can be trusted (aka the whole like “MC nooooooo don’t trust me I’m a vampire very bad very scary run away” kind of like Leonardo). 

All that being said, given the evidence we have and the stories I’ve read from his POV--esp that Crescent Moon one you referenced--I’m most inclined to believe that he had no idea she would follow him that day at the Louvre. If anything I really don’t think he ever anticipated any human person could follow him through the door? Because remember Sebastian (and the suitors for that matter) only manage because Comte is their escort. Sure their will to live on was strong enough that he could hear them, but they had no capacity to approach or find a door on their own as far as we currently know. The door was closed when MC found it; this suggests that Comte fully closed off that avenue to make sure nobody wayward stepped in by accident. He did the responsible thing and he left long before he could ascertain her safe journey through time, but she still managed to make it across somehow.

That’s why I think MC’s mere existence is earth-shattering to Comte. I mean we have all the good basics: a lovely lady, sweet and hard-working, means well and does her best. And these attributes all do matter, for sure. But the door is perhaps a greater catalyst in their romance than we might have first anticipated.

There will be some semi-hefty JPN rt spoilers below the cut for Dazai and Comte, so I’m just going to keep it under wraps just in case there are people who want to remained 100% unspoiled:

TW: Mentions of suicide in Dazai’s rt

The reason I say this is twofold, based on information provided by Dazai and Comte’s Main Story route. In Dazai’s route, remember that the focal point of the story is that Dazai wants to go back in time to kill himself as a baby so that he can never grow up to write his books or cause anyone pain in the near future--essentially, suicidal ideation to a frightening extreme. One of the main reasons that he fails (though MC plays a significant role in stopping him, too) is that Dazai’s will to kill himself is too weak. In simpler terms, this means that--no matter how much he insisted he wanted to die, the truth of his heart was revealed in his constant hesitating and difficulty going through with it. This is very often a reaction from people who need sizable psychological assistance to overcome trauma; they don’t usually want to die, it’s more that the pain of surviving their experiences is outweighing any possible joy they can find in living. 

But back to the most important part in bold. When Dazai asks about being able to use the door to travel through time, Charles confirms that it’s possible to travel without a pureblood escort. HOWEVER. This type of travel is very, very difficult unless you have an intense sense of willpower. I imagine the implication here is that you have to have an overwhelming desire and firmly believe it’s where you want to be in order for the travel attempt to succeed at all. (I don’t think the tethering point necessarily matters, but there is a suggestion that strong bonds between people--whether platonic or romantic--can serve as powerful guideposts when the door is distorted.) In other words, the reason Dazai relies on Charles’ moral bankruptcy is because Dazai knows he doesn’t feel strongly enough to go through with the suicide. He needs someone else who has the sheer determination and unbending will to see it through when the door opens. 

This is why Dazai is forced to ask Charles to accompany him, even though Charles doesn’t necessarily want to kill him. For Charles, this is less about a desperation to kill Dazai and more about his intense obsession-love for MC, and his willingness to do anything to receive her love/attention in return. In Charles’ view, since MC is ostensibly in love with Dazai, removing Dazai from the picture permanently is ideal. While Charles’ judgement is clouded and a little horrific, he is nonetheless rock steady in comparison to Dazai’s nonstop wavering. Dazai knows that he’s fickle on a personal level; one moment he wants to die, another he’s too afraid to let go of what he does care about or upset anyone. He’s at a point where he doesn’t know what’s right or true anymore and he’s floundering, which is honestly fairly common among those who share his lamentable condition. (Most people don’t have a death wish--it’s more a combination of circumstantial problems and healing that has remained in stasis that constitutes the extremity of that behavior.)

Moving right along, Comte’s route also features a similar testament to willpower, believe it or not. This happens in the last few chapters of the main story. Basically, Shakespeare dumps MC on Vlad’s doorstep and she’s more or less suffering the latter’s monologuing for a good while. Not long after that Comte appears and nearly shoots Vlad in the head, the bullet just grazing his cheek. Comte demands that he let MC go, and Vlad--in a classic sadistic act of compliance--wrenches open the door and just tosses MC into the freefall of distorted spacetime.

Now this is dangerous to MC’s life in and of itself, but there’s a key element there: distorted spacetime. In this main story the door never returns to its normal state after that first month period. Rather, the expanse of the door is too dangerous to be traveled even by a pureblood, let alone a human being. The chances MC will ever be able to escape in order to survive are closer to zero than any other number. Remember that Comte is immortal. If he gets stuck on his own, he can’t die and the damage to his body is always more than able to heal when he’s back to safety. (He even warns Leonardo in Leo’s MS that the danger of getting stuck in some kind of pocket in spacetime is still too significant to be ignored, though I can’t be sure if that’s due to Leonardo’s inexperience with time travel/requirement for an escort, or just an inevitable risk you juggle anytime you travel through the door.)

Of course Comte leaps in after her to try to save her, but presumably their entry point is long gone now (Vlad shut the door), so they’re just kind of floating in amorphous time. They do and don’t exist. Comte is understandably distraught because MC’s life hangs in the balance; if they don’t find a way out, she is almost certainly going to die. Comte admits that--while he hates the fact that his very existence is a danger to her, he still doesn’t regret finding her by any extension. MC protests, naturally, that there’s nothing to regret. Circumstances be what they may, she loves him. 

Now, here is the key. While Comte is trying to think of a way out, MC is thinking hard about wanting to return to the mansion. Her mind reflects an acute, intense desire to return home to the place where they both belong. And wouldn’t you know it? They both suddenly tumble out of the door in the mansion and onto the carpeted floor, whole and alive, sputtering in disbelief. Comte is baffled at first but it can only give way to immense relief that she’s safe, and he just immediately breaks down.

The only reason the two make it out unscathed is because of--I can only assume--MC’s overwhelming will to live on with Comte and return to the mansion. While it would have been natural for her to be overcome by fear to the point where she could make no productive decision, or even humor the concept of focusing on their home, she does it all the same with immediate success. That’s also part of why I think Comte just 100% caves into both of their feelings in the next chapter. He saw firsthand that, not only does MC keep a level head under duress, but she also has the overpowering will necessary to survive amongst vampires. And it was perhaps this unshakeable will in the first place that landed her in the late 19th century all those weeks ago.

It’s interesting because, honestly? Her entry through the door is more or less a hinge point for their romance. While it obviously isn’t the only reason he cares about her, it definitely is one of the bigger reasons he even feels safe enough to court her in earnest in the aftermath. It is literally only after this event that he confesses everything. Why he created the mansion and the men. How he’s really felt about her and himself all this time. What Vlad showed her and the implications of Vlad’s existence. And finally the truth about what he wants. He wants a relationship with her, but he keeps being held back by the fear that he’s too much. That the demand of being by his side will outweigh any happiness she might find choosing him. (Granted MC and I find that preposterous given how attentive and considerate he is, but you know). But after seeing her pull off surviving Vlad and traveling through the door by her own willpower again? I think it sufficiently lessens his doubts as to whether she could handle a future with him. It gives him the courage to just ask her: Do you want a future with me? Can you handle the demands of a vampire that cannot accept a mere human lifetime to be in love? 

And so this is why I have unceasing Comte brainworms ladies and gentlethem. I need to go lie down before I start crying again, I love him oTL

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp meta #fangdad propaganda #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp jpn rt spoilers #i hope this makes sense/was helpful! #you're always welcome <3333 #man i need a snack but comte isnt here so whats the point #*long dramatic sigh* #AND WUV. TWUUUUUU WUV......WILL FOWOW U FOWEVAAAAAAAAA..... #AND MAWWIAGE......THAT BWESSED A W A N G E M E N T......THAT DWEAM W I F I N. A DWEAM. #SO CHEWISH YO WUV #i have exactly one brain cell and all it does is rattle for comte 25/8 #god idk how im going to wait for his wedding event in ENG oTL #i am tender #not incorrect quotes #rambles

[kaistarus]

Enchanted

Chapter 3

Pair: NishinoyaXReader

Words: 2.1K

Summary: When your best friend enters a relationship with a prince your life changes in ways you never thought possible. You gain new friendships, learn dangerous secrets, and discover that maybe love might exist for you after all…

A/N: This chapter is pretty chill and relaxing relationship development, learning some skills that’ll come in handy for future conflict :) lol

Masterlist

Prev / Next

“What do you think would happen if I tried marrying someone my father didn’t approve of?” You asked, plucking innocent pieces of grass beneath you. The concept had been plaguing your mind since that night in the gardens, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t erase Kiyoko’s gentle smile from your memory.

“Like a status thing?” Yachi held her blonde strands in place as a summer breeze tore through the air. “Your family is pretty close to Hinata’s, right? They seemed happy for him.”

“That’s a little different since he’s dating up.” If anything Hinata’s situation encouraged your father there was ‘hope for you after all’.

“Your mother is open minded,” Hinata said around a mouthful of blueberry muffin that Yachi packed for your guys’ picnic. “Is this related to you sneaking off with Nishinoya a few weeks ago?”

“You did what?” Yachi’s hand flew to her mouth.

“I did not ‘sneak off’ with him.” You gave Hinata’s teasing smirk a pointed glare.

“I think I’m the sneaking off expert,” Hinata said, jabbing his thumb to his chest. “And I decree mysteriously disappearing for the same amount of time is sneaking off.”

“Sounds fair.” Yachi shrugged.

“Nishinoya was just helping me out because someone ditched me.”

Hinata stuck his tongue out at you like the child he was and you threw the nearest baked good at his stupid smug face like the mature adult you were.

“Doesn’t Nishinoya have status though?” Yachi asked, “because of the Guardian Deity thing?”

“He does?” You cocked your head curiously.

“I’m not positive, but I would think so.”

“Nishinoya’s so annoying,” Hinata said in a mocking tone while clasping his hands together. “Do you think I can marry him?”

“I don’t want to marry him,” you scoffed, gripping a clump of grass tightly to stay grounded against your racing heart. “I was just curious.”

“Well, you might have to fight Yamaguchi for him,” Yachi pointed out matter-of-factly.

“Yams can have him.” you rolled your eyes. “Nishinoya would love the constant ego boosting.”

“I think he's a masochist,” Hinata said confidently. “He’d probably rather (Y/N) call him an idiot than Yamaguchi tell him how cool he is.”

“He does give off that feeling,” Yachi nodded to herself.

“You two are the worst.”

“Sure,” Hinata drawled, “well he should be here soon, so we can just ask him.”

You mulled over his words before fumbling out, “who will what now?”

“Nishinoya?” Hinata shrugged. “I mean, assuming he’s assigned to Kageyama today.”

“Wait, so you-Kageyama’s going to-” You stiffened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t realize it mattered,” he said with a sly tone, “and there’s always a chance it’s not him so...”

You and Hinata both knew Kageyama was rarely allowed to leave castle grounds unless Nishinoya guarded him; Hinata just didn’t want to risk you pretending you were busy… again.

“Well, it doesn’t matter to me who it is,” you lied unconvincingly-even you weren’t fooled by your words. Especially when your entire body tensed the moment Hinata began waving at something behind you.

“Hey, Kageyama.” Hinata called out, then with a more mischievous tone he added. “Nishinoya, so glad you're here.”

You sneered at Hinata and transferred it to Yachi when she giggled behind her hand.

“Thanks,” you heard Nishinoya’s telltale cheerful voice and you whined when he plopped shamelessly beside you wearing a playful smile, “guess I was right again.”

“I wouldn’t call three weeks soon.” You snorted, avoiding his attention by regretfully turning to Hinata and Kageyama saddled up beside each other lovingly.

“Well if you hadn’t avoided me it would’ve been sooner, so I’d say I’m still right.” You whipped over to his knowing look with warm cheeks.

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“That’s not what Hinata said.”

“Well, Shoyo’s an idiot.”

“No, I’m not,” Hinata pouted, turning to Kageyama for assistance but he just looked away uselessly. “Wha-I’m not!”

“See? Even he thinks your dumb,” you snickered at Hinata’s flustered expression.

“Yamaguchi is going to be very disappointed he couldn't come today,” Yachi said, expertly changing the subject.

“Why?” Kageyama looked at Hinata confused and he gestured to you as if you were the sole expert on the subject.

“He’s a fan of Nishinoya,” you waved off the nonsensical idea. “I keep telling him there’s nothing to obsess over but he won’t believe me.”

“Oh, is he the friend that-” Nishinoya paused. “Wait, was that offensive?”

“Could be,” you leaned toward the pastry basket Yachi had brought. “You’re just Nishinoya. Flirty, cocky, bad at your job,” you furrowed your brow. “I guess you’re loyal, but so are dogs so I wouldn’t fanboy over it.” You raised a brow at him after fishing out a muffin, “you’re just a plain old Nishinoya.”

You expected a similar insult about how disrespectful you were or a quip about how he actually was the greatest thing to ever grace your presence, but you were met with silence. You side-eyed him and felt your heart skip at the wondrous look he was giving you.

“What?” You asked, eyeing him warily.

“Hah? Oh, thank you...” his eyes widened when you narrowed yours skeptically. “I mean, maybe if you appreciated me like Yamaguchi did you’d see how amazing I actually am.”

There it is. “I think I’m good, but thanks for the offer.”

“You don’t get an amazing title like Guardian Deity by being average (Y/N).”

“I’m starting to think that title is as made up as the rest of your dumb rumors,” you rolled your eyes. “I’d be more scared to fight Yachi and she’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you?” Yachi tilted her head, uncertain if that had been an insult or compliment.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not scared of me,” he snorted, “but that doesn’t mean you should fight me.”

“Why?” You raised a teasing brow, “scared?”

“I promise you this is the least threatened I’ve felt in my entire life.”

“Okay,” you said, standing up and stretching your arms above your head. “Let’s go then.”

He blinked several times as he processed your actions, “let’s go where?”

“To fight.”

He glanced between you, Hinata, and Yachi absolutely baffled by your words. “I can’t do that. For so many reasons.”

“No fun,” you crossed your arms with a pout. “Guess I’ll add boring to your description.”

“That’s not fair,” Nishinoya deadpanned. “You know I’d get in trouble if you got hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” you waved off his obscene concern. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“I, for one, would love to see this happen.” Hinata raised his hand and Kageyama nodded beside him in agreement. Nishinoya stared at you warily, sighing before pushing himself up. An eager smile spread across your lips until he walked right past you toward the forest lining.

“Are you forfeiting?” You called after him, “it really is okay to admit you’re scared.”

He shot you a half-assed glare over his shoulder, disappearing for a moment before jogging back over to you and producing a medium lengthened stick.

“It’s your sword,” he clarified, clearly amused by your puzzled expression. “What did you think we were going to punch each other?”

Truthfully, you never thought he would entertain you this far. “Well, where’s your stick?”

“I don’t need one.” He stated matter-of-factly, standing in front of you with a confident smile.

You looked between him, the stick in your hand, and your group of friends watching you thoroughly entertained. “Isn’t this unfair?”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.” He said, forcing down a smile and gesturing you to come at him. You were becoming unsure of the humor behind this charade now that Nishinoya was blatantly asking you to hit him.

“But what if I accidentally hurt you?”

“Aw, you’re worried about me?” he shuffled his weight between his feet with a cocky smirk and you hated how warm your cheeks became. “Even if you somehow manage to hit me-it’s a stick. I promise I’ll survive the pain.”

Now you didn’t mind hitting him as revenge for how your heart was fighting against your ribcage, so with a final glare you decided to just try swiping the stick at him. However, like you were childsplay, Nishinoya casually side-stepped the attack and lightly smacked a weird place on your wrist that made you drop the stick. You stared stunned at the grass beneath you where your make-shift sword lay before turning to Nishinoya’s smug smile annoyed.

“You cheated.”

He raised a brow amused, “how?”

“The…” You looked at your feet searching for an answer before jabbing a finger against his chest. “I probably wasn’t holding it right.”

“You weren’t,” he laughed, swiping your hand off him.

“Well, after you show me how to hold it that won’t happen next time,” you hurriedly grabbed the stick and gestured for him to start adjusting your hand, “and how’d you do that wrist thing? That felt weird.”

“Hold on. Next time?” Nishinoya asked, hesitating before gently lowering your hand on the stick.

“Duh,” you snorted, “I need to hit you.”

“Coming from anyone else that would concern me,” he smirked, taking the stick away and giving it back to test your hold. “You realize how long that’s going to take.”

“I don’t mind,” you said thoughtlessly, excitement coursing through you when you held the stick-sword correctly. This was honestly the most interesting thing you had been able to learn in years.

You knew all of this sword fighting information was useless for you to have, but the fact that Nishinoya was taking it seriously made you happier than you’d been in forever. You couldn’t remember the last time someone’d entertained your ridiculous requests and when you looked over at him fondly, catching him off guard mid-sentence, it sent a flutter through your heart when he continued with a soft smile.

“Hey, Nishinoya,” Yachi suddenly spoke up, causing a warmth to creep up your neck-you had completely forgotten people were around. “Can you help us settle something we were debating earlier?”

“Sure, what’s up?” he answered without taking his focus off you, tapping a specific spot on your wrist lightly to show where he’d struck you.

“Does your Guardian Deity title give you any kind of class status?”

His movements slowed as he pondered the question carefully. “I’m not really sure. Why?”

“It’s not important,” you answered quickly, shoving the stick into his hand. “Let me try knocking it out of-.”

“Yamaguchi said being Guardian Deity made you higher than (Y/N).” Hinata said with a smug smile because, although he threw suspicion away from the actual reason for questions, he hadn’t changed the subject.

“Oh,” Nishinoya snorted. “I think it’s more like fake-status, so it wouldn’t be a lot.”

You weren’t sure why that sent an ache through your chest.

“Fake? So, you couldn’t theoretically marry (Y/N)?” Yachi tapped a finger on her chin and you gave her the deadliest glare you’d ever managed.

Nishinoya dropped the stick on his own accord and looked at you frantically; you already had your face buried in your hands from frustration because you were officially going to kill them.

“I haven’t thought about that a lot-at all.” He turned to you and panicked. “I haven’t thought about marrying you at all. That would be crazy and I’m not-I haven’t done that, so I have no clue the answer to what the question was.”

“Right,” you laughed awkwardly. “Well, it’s a pointless question so no one expects you to know.”

“Pointless.” Nishinoya nodded to himself. “Totally pointless. Uh-huh.”

“You could,” Kageyama piped up. “You are very close with my family and if her’s did not agree there are many strings we could pull for you.”

Everyone blinked at Kageyama before you tilted your head confused, “did you just offer to threaten my family?”

“Not unless Nishinoya wants me to.”

“No,” he waved his hands around with dark red cheeks. “I definitely do not. Even if they say no I would never threaten them. Say? Said. Wait... “ He stared at his hands confused.

“We’re not getting married.” You deadpanned.

“Exactly,” Nishinoya nodded, “and even if we were-which we’re not thankfully-wait not that it would be bad I wouldn’t mind if we-but not in a good way in a this isn’t the worst thing ever way because ew you’re-”

“Stop talking.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry.”

“Well, so glad that’s cleared up.” Hinata fell back onto the grass and it took every bit of self-control not to kick him. You hoped your glare was setting holes through him as he resumed talking cheerfully to the rest of the group.

“Sorry,” Nishinoya mumbled, picking up your stick sword again and you shook your head at him.

“No, it’s my fault the conversation happened at all.”

“Maybe, but I made it so much worse.” Nishinoya chuckled awkwardly before continuing your lesson and attempting to pretend the incident never happened. As he showed genuine excitement when you finally disarmed him you realized the feeling filling your chest was becoming easier to identify, and as much as you wanted to run away from it again, you wanted to keep it close even more.

And that was kind of terrifying.

#nishinoya yuu #hq nishinoya #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hinata shouyou #kagehina #yachi hitoka #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! x reader #nishinoya

[anika-ann]

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - bonus

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & part 3),  Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader       Word count: 3400

Summary: Steve might have abandoned you and his friends in Germany, but Steve Rogers does not give up on people. Do you?

Set shortly after the rescue from the Raft.

Warnings: mentions of violence and fights, mentions of the Raft, language...fluff

A/N: This part of Melting Hearts’ verse follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing them and kinda expecting the readers to know what’s up ;)

Posted in double chapters (1st & 2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1... and the bonus, because my brain clearly doesn’t understand the concept of 5+1)

Previous part

────── ·❆· ──────  

Seeking Shelter, Finding Home

Clint had been kind enough to replace Steve in the pilot seat – with a significant look sent your direction. You were sitting away from the others, watching your hands as if you couldn’t quite believe they belonged to you. Steve’s lips automatically press a thin line at the sight – you still looked so small as you had when he had found you in the cell.

Just the memory of The Raft made his stomach turn over. The prison was just inhumane – the way a power-restricting collar had been pinned around your neck, your hands trapped in a straitjacket just in case you would somehow manage to remove the collar. And then there had been the tiny thing in the straightjacket, ready to deliver an electric discharge if you would have left your cell despite all the barriers.

Sure, Wanda had been in the same… outfit, and it was sickening, but seeing you crumbled in the corner of the cell, tied and broken like that – it had made him unable to breathe in or out, his chest just too constricted. And knowing you had gone through all this because of him made it even worse.

Now, you were at least free of your cuffs, in a comfortable hoodie that was two sizes big for you, and yet you seemed absolutely lost.

He approached you hesitantly, his heart jumping to his throat and making it almost impossible for him to speak.

“Uhm… hey,” he greeted you softly and you immediately raised your head to him, a faint unsure smile appearing on your lips. Your absent eyes found his, missing its usual spark. He beckoned to the seat next to you. “May I?”

“Of course,” you whispered, apparently a bit baffled. Steve sure as hell didn’t like the resignation in your voice. “This is your jet.”

He shrugged, seating himself by your side. Your shoulder almost brushed his and it was as pleasant for him as unnerving. So close and yet too far.

“You helped me steal it.”

You eyed him timidly, fumbling with your fingers nervously. Heavy silence fell and for several moments; he just stared into your eyes, drinking in the feeling of being able to do that again. To look into your soul and see all the emotions playing in your head; until you lowered your gaze again, hiding from him.

He sighed, not knowing how to even start, not knowing how to talk to you; you had barely exchanged few words about Bucky’s whereabouts since the rescue from the prison and it had been… awkward, to put it mildly.

God, where should he start? He wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask million questions and most of all he just wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you close, not saying a single word, because words only made things messy.

That was if someone bothered with forming them – or receiving them.

He gulped and pulled out the folded envelope. He would swear he could hear your heart skip a beat as you drew in a sharp breath.

“Uhm… I didn’t read it. I’m sorry. I… I was angry with you, disappointed. I thought… I thought you left me in a lurch and then you were just… trying to make it better with few words. And after, I didn’t want to… to waste any time. I wanted to find you, all of you, because I left you behind and I knew you suffered for it. And…” he took a deep breath, setting the letter aside, taking your restless fingers in his hands. You looked up at his face, your eyes wide and glassy. It made his throat even tighter. “And I was hoping you could just tell me what you wrote. That you could tell me everything.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking your tears away as you avoided his gaze once more. It was driving him insane, but he couldn’t say he blamed you.

“There’s not much to tell, Steve. I… I agreed with the Accords. With someone watching over us, maybe to be held responsible for--- but all I wanted was someone watching over me. Because I can do so much damage-“

He grimaced, a cold hand squeezing his guts as you stumbled over your words. Forever and always guilty. He underestimated sometimes how deeply your guilt ran.

“That’s not-“

“-and… I hated we couldn’t agree on that. But I never got myself to sign it. Didn’t really have the time and after what they did to Wanda – I couldn’t, it was just wrong. So wrong to hold her prisoner, throwing her under the bus. She made a mistake, yes, but we all did-- and… it wasn’t right. It was when I decided I couldn’t do it.”

“Why didn’t you come with Clint then?” he asked, confused. He was recognizing you now, the motivations you had had suddenly feeling much more like you than he would expect.

You smiled wryly.

“I couldn’t. It was… I figured that maybe at least I could make myself useful. I knew where that was heading. I had to stay with Tony to know their plan.”

Steve closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, your hands in his weighting a ton all of sudden. You had really been playing double agent. That had been such a stupid and reckless move. And kinda brilliant, but that was implied.

“God, Snowflake…”

You freed one of your hands to wipe the tears from your cheeks; Steve gripped your other hand tighter, so you wouldn’t get the idea of stopping touching him for a goddamn second.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the arrest too, but I saw what kind of a task force they sent after you, Steve. You would stand no chance, there was no way you could escape. The heavy guns, Rhodey, snipers, helicopters. It was-“

Steve’s eyes snapped open at the realization.

“You were trying to protect us,” he whispered incredulously.

Oh god. Had you gone completely insane? Had you lost your mind? Had you lost the last pieces of self-preservation somewhere along the way?

“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my call and I swear I was waiting until the last moment, I waited until I was sure that they would get you anyway. And I am— I’m so, so sorry for--- for-”

You hand was shaking in his, your voice cracked and you were now wiping the tears uselessly, because new ones were coming constantly. You weren’t able to finish the sentence, but Steve knew exactly what you were trying to say.

And it made him snap.

He threw away stupid ideas like approaching you carefully and wrapped his arms around your trembling form, cradling your face to his chest to hush you. He was taken aback when your weak fingers grabbed the edges of his leather jacket and you melted into him. He tightened his embrace.

“Hey, I know. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry you had to use your powers against me. I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your hair and you stiffened, you breath hitching.

“What?”

He caressed your back, his previous certainty wavering. “You hated it, didn’t you? You hated it so much, but you did it anyway, because you thought it was the only way to keep us from getting shot.”

You didn’t speak up, unable to find your voice, but Steve could feel your furious nods. He inhaled deeply through his nose, wishing he could just take the feeling tearing you apart away.

“You did the right thing.”

“Right things suck.”

Steve huffed out a surprised laugh and pressed a shameless kiss into your hair. “Yeah. Sometimes they do. But you did it anyway, which makes you the bravest person I’ve ever met.”  

You stopped shaking by then, and you fumbled with his jacket this time. Your face was hidden in the crook of his neck, but Steve would swear your face felt hotter even when he couldn’t see your cheeks. It was a little piece of happiness for him in this huge mess and he couldn’t be more grateful for you being here with him – finally in his arms.

“Can I ask you something?”

He wanted to slap himself the moment you tensed in his arms again. You nodded stiffly anyway.

“After… after Nigeria. Why— why did you start going to Matt? What happened? Were you… were you disappointed in me?”

You retreated, escaping his embrace, and Steve scolded himself for being so stupid. Why had he poked you again? Words always made things messy…

It was only a little comfort that you were still holding onto his jacket. Your baffled face confused the hell out of him – but at least you didn’t seem angry.

“Why would I be disappointed? What… what?”

“Uhm… well… because I froze. I didn’t handle the situation-“

“Jesus, Steve,” you choked out, shaking your head, your eyes finally finding his willingly. The look in them warmed Steve’s heart even when he wasn’t sure what exactly it was supposed to mean. “Is that what you think? That I was… disappointed that you didn’t perfectly keep your cool when Rumlow mentioned Bucky? Did you think I was… thinking any less of you? Judging you? Oh god, Steve. How could I?”

The sincerity of your voice struck him straight in his gut and he was honestly feeling like an idiot in an instant. Of course you hadn’t judged him. You weren’t one to judge people – you hadn’t said a word against Wanda after she had messed up. The only person you ever had been hard on was yourself. How could he have believed anything else even for a second?

Jealously, whispered the intrusive voice in the back of his mind and he shushed it angrily – mostly because it spoke the truth.

“But… why did you go to— uhm, to Matt then?”

You arched an eyebrow inconspicuously and Steve felt a blush creeping up his neck. Yeah, he had been jealous and wounded at the time and it was stupid, okay?

“Because I needed a lawyer,” you explained hesitantly and it was Steve’s turn to be perfectly shocked. Again. What? “A good one. A smart one. An outsider too, at least to certain extent. I wanted to ask him about the possible consequences of the Avengers messing up. I wanted to know his opinion and I didn’t want to ask him over a phone. He predicted the Accords with scary precision, by the way. And he said hi on several occasions, but I never got the nerve to actually deliver the greetings, because I was afraid you would pry why I was going out.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, his eyes widening in awe. That— that was pretty much the only thing he hadn’t seen coming. Shit. You-- you were incredible. You had been thinking ahead. So much. You had been afraid of the consequences so you had gone to a lawyer to be prepared.

Yes, you had sought out the one friend, who had happened to find too much liking in you, but… while he and Wanda had been figuring out their guilt – and Steve was still sure you had taken some of the blame too in your head – you had sprung into action. And his ego had been too wounded to see it.

He tilted his head back, pleading heavens to give him strength.

“Oh god, I am such an idiot…”

“No, you’re not,” you protested immediately, finding his hand to cover it with yours. Oh, how quickly your roles reversed, you soothing him now.

He looked at you, still not quite believing you had done all that. His eyes scanned your form, your face still damp from the tears you had shed, your eyes red-rimmed from crying, dark bruising under. But regaining at least a little of your confidence, you had grown right in front of his eyes. You were incredible. How had he ever doubted that? How had he ever deserved you?

“Really? Because I was being jealous instead of asking what was the visit about, my ego was hurting and I was hurting, and I was too blinded by my petty feeling of betrayal to see what you were doing. And then I honestly thought you just left me – that all we had meant nothing to you all of sudden. I thought the worst of you and I was too damn proud to comply with the single wish you had. I didn’t even read your letter. Which part of that does not make me a complete idiot?”

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze to your joined your hands, caressing it softly. It made Steve’s heart grow in size – but it still didn’t make him less of a jackass, it actually made him feel worse at the same time, because it wasn’t your place to offer comfort to him, it was supposed to be the other way around.

“The part in which feelings aren’t petty and make us human,” you whispered hoarsely, a tiny spark appearing in your eyes, disappearing all too fast. “I wanted to drop it all – the moment you looked at me when I-- when I froze you and the… the look in your eyes at the airport. It was the worst part of it all. You thinking… thinking that I’m a scum.”

Steve had never shaken his head so abruptly as the moment you called yourself a scum. His hand slipped from under yours, only to frame your face with his palms, making you look into his eyes. He was the one feeling like a scum at the moment, because… you hadn’t been that far from the truth and he didn’t think he had ever felt so ashamed for his previous thoughts like at this very moment.

“No. Hey, look at me. You— I was-- I wasn’t thinking straight. I was hurt and felt betrayed and I was disappointed, yes, but never ever-” he emphasized, staring into your eyes as if there was nothing more important in this world. And it wasn’t. “-have I thought you were--- that. And I’m sorry that I doubted you for even a moment.”

Your eyes turned glassy again under his intense stare, so many emotions written in it. You couldn’t bear it, you wanted to look away, but he wouldn’t let you, holding your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated firmly and you finally managed to close your eyes to escape.

It was when he did one of the boldest moves ever. Without a single hint of permission, after your relationship had suffered an enormous hit and with him not having a clue how you felt about him now, he pressed his lips firmly to yours, stealing your breath away.

He didn’t know what he had expected, but the hesitant response turning into an eager one within few seconds was not it. Your hands flew to his hair, interlacing in them and pulling him closer, your mouth opening for him almost immediately. He sighed at the unexpected sensation, a shiver of excitement running through his body. Your mouth was hot and wanting against his, one of your hands trailing down his chest; when it stopped above his navel, he found himself silently groaning in disappointment.

It was also when he realized where the hell you were and how much audience you had. His fingers twisted in your hair – god, he missed that – and he withdrew just slightly, setting a slower pace and putting some distance between you two. You seemed to get the memo, because you gently caressed his abdomen over the fabric of his t-shirt, separated from his lips and rested your forehead against his. You were both out of breath, panting.

Steve opened his eyes first, only to see your lips kiss-swollen and parted as you fought for a little air, your eyes still closed as if you were trying to regain some composure. His lizard brain whispered more and he listened, kissing you one more time; but at least wary of keeping the kiss socially acceptable this time. It was next to impossible to part again.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out and Steve looked at you, once again confused.

“For?”

You licked your lips, the movement utterly and unfairly distracting. He retreated and your eyes snapped opened as you cleared your throat.

“I honestly don’t know where we go from here – and now I mean… like… the two of us, but… I’m sorry. They took all of our personal belongings,” you whispered, embarrassed and pissed off a bit.

Steve tilted his head to side, not following. Yeah, he knew that. Why were you pointing it out?

“…okay?”

“All of it. Including… including jewellery.”

“Oh,” he let out intelligently, his heart expanding in his chest with hope.

Really? Was it possible that-… really? Sure, the kiss you just shared was nothing sort of loving, you had cleared things out and maybe it should hint him, but…

“I mean... I know you're probably angry with me-“

“Would you still want it?” he breathed out, astonished. He was trying to fight the euphoria creeping into his voice, no doubt showing on his face, but he couldn’t help it. “After what happened? After I... thought you turned your back to me, after I left you behind even when knowing you actually didn't? After I became a criminal?”

“I am a criminal too, Steve. And… I told you to go. You didn’t want to, because you're not leaving people behind. And you came back. I… I love you. Of course I’d still want it.”

He felt his lips curl up in a smile that mirrored only a fraction of the surge of joy in his veins. You didn’t seem to follow why. The declaration alone would be enough to make him feel like this, but… well. At least the little delay in the rescue had been worth it.

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked him warily, hesitant raise of the corners of your lips lighting up your face as well.

Steve reached into his pocket, drawing a thin chain with a ring out, holding it out between the two of you. You gasped in awe, watching the chain you had bought to protect your ring while fighting wide-eyed.

“How-?”

“When I asked the guard about it, he looked at me as if I was crazy. Maybe I am,” he explained with a shrug and you chuckled incredulously, biting your lip.

“May I... may I wear it?”

Steve had honestly no clue how you could be asking such a stupid question. He observed your features that seemed to come alive, finally back to your usual self – the sunshine in even the darkest place.

And that thought gave him a stop; he was in a pretty dark place at the moment and he didn’t think it would get any better any time soon.

“I… I’m in a terrible mess, Snowflake. I’m probably the most wanted criminal in the world now. Are you sure?”

You cleared your throat significantly. “Steve, allow me to remind you that I am a fugitive too. That’s the first thing. The second thing… you’ve done nothing wrong – the whole criminal thing is just a word, a label someone gave you. And the third thing… I know what I’m signing up for. I knew you were trouble – for a good cause – when I said yes the first time. I knew you were trouble long before I fell in love with you. So yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“God, I love you so much,” Steve murmured before he could even think of anything else.

As he freed the ring so he could slip it back on your ring finger, you held out your trembling left hand for him. It wasn’t fear – it was excitement all over again. Too many emotions to contain. Steve felt the same. He was stunned, moved, and felt so incredibly loved and strong with you by his side that there weren’t any better words to say anyway.

He enclosed your hand in his when the ring was on place, bringing them to his lips only to plant a kiss over the thin metal. It made you smile like a madwoman.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Sam Wilson fist-bump with Scott Lang. You hid your face in Steve’s chest with silent laugh.

You had no idea what the future held for you now – you could only guess that it wouldn’t be exactly pretty. But as long you were not about to face it alone, you were ready and determined to fight all the battles coming your way.

────── ·❆· ──────  

S.R. masterlist

Hell Froze Over (next in the series)

────── ·❆· ──────  

Thank you for reading!

Someone once told me that fluff is my default setting. They weren’t wrong. I know mini-series was a bit different and with shorter chapters, but hopeflly, you enjoyed nevertheless.

Sequel ahead, this one a longer one! Title’s Hell Froze Over... I can promise you a new enhanced on the scene, some fluff, some angst... the usual :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x imagine #steve rogers #captain america #mcu #marvel #avenger reader #melting hearts #5 times steve felt betrayed #anika ann

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

So: what ARE all the various things Quentin Coldwater visibly has not processed or unpacked or come to terms with by the end of season 4? Have you made a list?

sure, let’s give this a whirl, shall we?

1. quentin’s death itself - kind of cheating since technically quentin does not come back to life in the show, but the obvious starting point in any post-s4 fic about him. i feel like dying and coming back to life on its own has gotta be messed up in even the best circumstances, possibly unless you do it like penny where you never really have a moment of feeling like you have died. in the softest interpretation of quentin’s death, it was still a violent sudden untimely death, which feels like it adds to that. which is not getting into —

2. the fact that quentin’s death was self-inflicted - i think there’s definite room for ambiguity in considering, like, how suicidal his suicide was, so to speak, all the way from “he walked into the mirror realm planning or at least hoping to die” to, sure, “he sacrificed himself for the greater good and was sorry to die.” that is a reading that fits with the text. my own headcanon-ish take on it, or the reading that makes most sense to me in terms of quentin’s characterization across the show (which to be clear is NOT what the show wants us to think about it), setting aside whatever angle i might find most dramatically useful or interesting explore in a particular story, is somewhere between these two. i think if everett hadn’t shown up, quentin would have walked out of there alive, and when he decided to cast, some part of him felt a real deep sense of relief. i actually read the moment as emotionally pretty analogous to alice niffin-ing out — when niffin!alice says she did it on purpose, i think that’s true, but does that mean she wanted to, exactly, in all the parts of her that didn’t make it to niffinhood? i don’t know, and i don’t think alice really knows, then or ever, which is how i feel about some future quentin looking back and trying to answer for himself the question he asks penny: yes, no, both, kind of, not really, yes but just for a second, no but not strongly enough... and that kind of uncertainty about your own desires and beliefs and motivations at such a crucial juncture is itself something to process. like i said, that’s my own take on it, and the reality of it (despite the show’s protests to the contrary) is ambiguous; what’s not ambiguous is that, uh, quentin made a choice he knew would kill him, and everything we know about quentin suggests that having this information about himself would really fuck him up (and also that some dumb hot chocolate feelings chat in the underworld would not actually be enough to ease his mind on the issue). which leads me to —

3. quentin’s mental health shit, part the first - so, there’s the fact of quentin’s depression which predates the show by ages and which he has now spent four years basically ignoring while getting traumatized repeatedly, and he needs....... something regarding that. meds/therapy convo is for a lot of people the obvious Something, it’s a good Something. i don’t like to be prescriptivist about what Something is, i think a lot about leonard cohen in his 70s being like “yes it turned out that the thing i needed to finally address my lifelong depression was to go through the process of getting ordained as a buddhist monk.” maybe what quentin needs is to get ordained as a buddhist monk. i could buy that. but Something regarding his like everyday ability to be a person in the world, especially considering that he died at what could charitably be described as a low point re: that, he needs. and, also —

4. quentin’s mental health shit, part the second - he needs to process and deal with his own feelings about his fucked up brain and the things that he’s done as a result of it, because there’s the brain stuff, but then there’s also the shame and self-concept and identity issues that have developed around and with the brain stuff, you know? i mean, there is a reason i have written now two stories spanning well over a hundred thousand words in which therapy is suggested to quentin and his response is “hmm. no thanks,” and it’s because the first time we ever meet him, he is in the process of refusing further treatment against a psychiatric professional’s advice! he goes off his meds like 18 hours later and never once in the show shows any inclination of being like, “hm maybe that was a bad idea,” including when magic gets turned off and he picks up smoking as a fun summer hobby instead. we know from the mind palace that quentin’s deepest fears involve his own brain, and there’s a lot of different ways you can read the fact that the cherry on top of the nightmare sunday is the dream-revelation that his illness led him to attack his dad but IMO one of the more obvious ones is that he already thinks of his illness as something that has hurt his dad. he has some real dark feelings about his own mind.

5. quentin’s dad - quentin barely deals at all with his dad’s death before he himself dies, and like — similarly to his death, losing his father in his mid-twenties is something that would be difficult for a long long time in the least-bad situation. for quentin, i think there’s a ton of unresolved shit in the distance between them as two people who loved each other deeply, and knew the other loved him deeply, but didn’t always know how to communicate; i think there’s a lot of internalized shame around making his father’s life difficult by having the mental health problems he did that he hasn’t unpacked; i think that ahead of him there’s like, a lot of unexpressed anger about what his father couldn’t give him & a lot of guilt about that because his father did do his best and is now dead & a lot of grief about the fact that his father will never be around for quentin to heal his side of their relationship. also there’s the fact that, uh, quentin’s dad died because he chose to turn magic back on, and we know from his conversation with julia that he feels conflicted about having made that choice.

6. quentin’s experiences with the monster - almost everything that happens to quentin on the magicians is some degree of traumatizing, but being constantly tormented by an evil demigod wearing the body of your ex-boyfriend who keeps murdering people partly (after 4x05 at least) because you decided you wanted to take on the absolute inevitability of further carnage for the extremely slim chance of somehow saving your rex-boyfriend - that really takes it to the next level, and we can see that this is true in his affect, in the way quentin in season 4 just totally shuts down, in his reckless behavior and even lower instinct for self-preservation.

7. quentin’s experiences on the quest - i’ve said this before, but if you watch season 3 from the mosaic episode on with a focus on tracking quentin’s inner state, the show becomes a grim story of a guy who came face to face with his depression and never really recovered. that’s... a lot, on its own. it’s more when you consider the fact that as far as he knows, he only survived his initial encounter with the depression monster by, uh, fulfilling its darkest ideas about himself, i.e. passing on his pain to someone else (benedict) who died because quentin wasn’t strong enough to handle his shit on his own. that’s not my read of that episode, but i honestly feel like if quentin ever has 5 seconds to think about it that’s gotta be how he feels about it, right? and you can see briefly in season 3 how his anxiety starts ratcheting up about his sense of responsibility towards others on the quest once penny and benedict are both dead. and there’s also the whole thing about how the quest wants him to be cold, which as i have said 9 million times is a very sad thing for him to believe that he never gets to unlearn! all culminating in his decision to stay at blackspire, which —

8. quentin’s hero thing - of all the really baffling choices the show makes, one that i keep coming back to is how they told quite beautifully the story of quentin letting go of his desire to be a hero, culminating in handing alice the leo blade (or... whatever i’m not gonna fact check that. you know what the fuck i mean), and then they uhhhh. i don’t even know what to call it. walked it back? decided he hadn’t actually learned that in a generally applicable way? the season 2 finale is interesting because he does A Hero Thing (stabs a god with a sword), but it happens very unglamorously and feels very much like a decision born out of necessity, but then it leads to magic ending, so... i don’t know what to do with that. but his decision to stay at blackspire is... clearly quentin wanting to be a hero! like, he’s managed to step away from the idea of heroic glory, but veered over instead to heroic martyrdom, which is not really... better. and which eliot saves him from (See Below), only for him to... double down on it a season later by sacrificing his life for real. all of which is A Lot, not even getting into the fact that, like, at some point he’s gotta come up with some justification for being alive other than this, and the show strongly suggests he... hasn’t, yet.

9. yeah, like, eliot? - HOO boy. listen. the act of turning quentin down in and of itself is not morally wrong. if eliot sincerely hadn’t wanted a relationship with quentin after the mosaic, that would be his right, and his rejection doesn’t become a crime just because we know that it actually came from his own issues. i also honestly think eliot thought in the moment that he was shutting this down for the good of both of them and as kindly as he could. he was very wrong about this, but that’s my take. HOWEVER. there are a lot of reasons you can read that conversation in 4x05 as being unintentionally crafted to be particularly hurtful to quentin specifically, the biggest and most obvious one being, uh, “fifty years that were real for you were not real for me” (hurtful in any case but particularly for someone like quentin who has such a sense that one of his problems is he Cares Too Much), and my personal favorite being that the logical implication of “that’s not you,” for quentin, is “the version of yourself that learned to be content with your life as it happened to unfold is not real.” excruciating to hear those things, while also trying to figure out how to emotionally process the memories of a dead wife you never married and a son that was never born! extra excruciating to then have the person who told you “you didn’t matter enough to me to take a chance on” shoot a god because apparently you do matter enough for him to override your life choices, and then get possessed. one of my favorite moments in 4x05 is when quentin tells alice “i loved you, and you couldn’t trust that,” because it’s clearly in there to draw a parallel to the throne room scene for Writing Points, but it’s so wildly inapplicable to any of their 900 break-ups (right before blackspire SHE was the one saying “i know i don’t always seem like it but you’re the one i love”!), that the only plausible in-universe reading of it is that quentin has been stewing miserably on the eliot thing this entire time, only now he can’t even be properly mad at eliot because eliot is possessed by a demigod, so he’s just projecting onto the nearest available screen. i’m obsessed with that. it’s horrible and very sexy and Needs To Be Unpacked

10. see, like all the way down here at the bottom we get to quentin’s mom - idk, his mom is a very critical person (i don’t love using the word “critical” because it often gets used misogynistically but it is the only personality trait we really have for her) who never seems to contact or wonder about her adult son with a longterm history of mental illness, who certainly doesn’t seem to have the same skepticism his father has about the brakebills cover story that he’s studying finance, and who unlike his father is not mentioned when quentin recounts his first hospitalization. like, that can’t be great for him, right? that can’t have nothing to do with him being the way he is. for most people that would rank as a pretty major thing to process. but compared to everything else on the list? idk, man!

that’s... i mean this is not so much my thinking for fic-related reasons, this is just me lying down and trying to get out all my screaming about quentin coldwater, which i honestly feel like is still missing some things. like i kinda think he has not gotten over being an unpopular nerd for what is chronologically still most of his life??? i feel like he has some weird stuff around sex which explains why his reaction to poppy macking on him is basically “i guess this is happening now” which is not, like, an ideal relationship or lack thereof to have with your own body? he doesn’t have a single close friend who does not play a major role in his psychosexual development, and he has no male friends he’s never slept with. i couldn’t even go down the road of residual guilt over being the guy who got magic turned off and therefore in his brain probably responsible for everything that happened after that. the dude’s a mess!!!!!!!!!! i love him more than anything on this stupid earth but his mind is a fucking horrorshow!!!!!!!!!!!!

#the magicians #askbox #i slept poorly the past several nights and my brain decided it's all coming down Today #so this seemed like the right time for this lmao

[emeraldtawny]

Satan x Fem!MC: A Foreign Heat

...I started this like 4 months ago and have only now just finished it oTL I hope you enjoy this 10k slow burn, friends-to-lovers style fic because wow this boi deserves soft love ;;w;;

This is also up on AO3 right here if you wished to leave kudos or the like uwu

Anyways, hope you enjoy~ :3

~

Rage is not a foreign concept to Satan; if it was, it would leave his title as the Avatar of Wrath quite redundant. That heat that flares up inside of him, that suffocating, clawing anger that makes his teeth clench and his blood boil, is such a familiar sensation to him that it feels wrong when that flame dwindles. Suffice it to say, being consumed by the flames of rage is what Satan is used to. It’s what he knows.

So when that flame wavers, he’s almost at a loss. 

He remembers his first impression of her. She was, well, nothing special. Maybe an occasional aid to his boredom if she was near. He didn’t spare her any more of his thoughts than necessary, because he didn’t deem her worthy enough of his attention. He scowls at himself whenever he remembers that thought process, that mightier-than-thou mentality reminding him of a certain demon that shall not be named.

He’s glad that he thinks differently now. He’s glad that he gave this human girl a chance to prove herself. Because now, he thinks that he quite enjoys her company.

… Yes, he quite likes it.

“Satan?” 

He’s pulled from his reverie of the past and back into the present, the very focus of his thoughts sitting beside him. Her head tilted quizzically and her eyes trained on him, she waits patiently for him to respond. When he focuses his attention on her, she sighs out her query. 

“I’m having a bit of trouble with this passage. I don’t understand what it’s asking of me.”

He feels the corner of his lips quirk up at the perplexion on her face, seemingly enjoying her mild distress for the upcoming exam on Applied Magic. He sets his own book down and leans closer to read over her shoulder.

“Ah, Incantations and Curses. I can’t say I’m surprised this is tripping you up.”

She taps the side of her pen against her textbook, her lips pressing together and out into a pout. He has to school his features to keep himself from grinning at her endearing display of dismay, his eyes pretending to scan over the book while his peripherals work to keep her in his sights.

“This isn’t a normal thing to learn in the Human World, yet they teach it to us like it’s common knowledge.” She sees his lips begin to move to rebut her, but she beats him to the mark, “I know it’s common knowledge here in the Devildom, but that just makes it so unfair for those unfamiliar with magic.”

A huffed laugh escapes Satan’s nose as a puff of air. “Unfortunately for you, ‘those unfamiliar with magic’ constitutes only humans. Are you that determined to learn?”

He meets her undivided gaze, completely forgetting of their close proximity and is only viciously reminded of the fact by how clearly he sees himself reflected in her eyes. He catches the subtle widening of his eyes in his reflection, but nothing more. Sitting before a demon, this human simply smiles.

“I am if you’re the one teaching me.”

He blinks, forgetting his prized vocabulary for a moment as he loses himself in her earnest gaze. If he didn’t know any better, he would believe she was mocking him with her kindness. But he knew of her genuineness and he knew not to dismiss it so quickly. He leans back in his seat, clearing his throat simultaneously to fill the silence and to restart his brain.

“I guess we can arrange a study session if you think it will help.”

Her smile directed at him grows, her eyes lighting up and, for just a moment, Satan swears that the warmth coursing through his body feels... different. His attempt to follow that train of thought is cut off by her D.D.D. buzzing once, twice, thrice, to tell her she has a text.

She hesitates, casting a look his way to gain permission. He sighs in response.

“Mammon?”

She checks her phone quickly. “Levi. New expansion in Mononoke Land.”

He doesn’t seem to realise that he’s smiling as he says, “I suppose we’ve done enough studying for one day.”

She instantly relaxes, “Thanks. I’ll message you later about that pre-test study session.”

“I look forward to it.”

Grinning at his words, she begins to pack away her things. All the while, Satan finds himself unable to look away from her, a slight frown marring his lips.

The questions swimming through his mind irk him; why does her smile make him lose his words so successfully? And, more curiously, why does he want her to smile if that’s the effect it has on him? He found it bizarre.

The quick tap of a pen against the desk brings him back once again and he blinks up at her face, thankfully with a little more distance between them to keep his thoughts grounded.

“What?”

“Are you alright? You seem a bit spaced out.”

This troublesome human, only vigilant when she shouldn’t be, Satan thinks to himself dryly.

He smiles his usual smile, about as real as Mammon’s financial independence. “Same as always. Tired from reading, most likely.” he lies effortlessly.

“If you’re sure…” She hesitates before gracing him with a shy smile, one he can’t quite pinpoint the message beneath, “I’ll see you later, then.”

With a tiny wave, she readjusts the bag on her shoulder, lifts her phone to her ear and heads off, and Satan can’t help rolling his eyes sympathetically at her unhurried “okay, okay” as she no doubt addresses Levi through her phone. 

Alone and without distraction, his thoughts should return to him again, unbidden. And they do, but only of her. 

His fingernail connects with the wood of the desk as he taps his finger against it, his eyebrows pinched together and his lips opening to release a sigh into the air around him.

Even the book beneath him cannot distract him from the prospect of when he’ll next see her.

~

Days went by and things remained the same. It was exam period at the Academy, so Satan concludes that must be what has him so on edge… despite all previous years going smoothly and without incident. And also being aware that these feelings started shortly after she had arrived. 

He shakes his head at the thought.

No, that IS the reason why I can’t focus as well as usual. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing else.

He was certain that if he was an outsider looking in on his situation, he would be snickering at himself, baffled at how desperate he is to ignore the elephant in the room. He lets a silent sigh exhale through his nostrils - his fifth one of the evening - and returns to flipping through his latest novella, his dinner going untouched. He hardly flinches at the doors of the dining room bursting open and the loud voices accompanying it; sounds he has long since learned to block out.

“Whad’ya just say to me, huh?! Say it again, I dare ya!”

“I’ll say it however many times I have to to get the message through your thick skull: absolutely NOT!”

“C’moooon! It’s quick and easy cash! You’ll be rollin’ in dough faster than you can say ‘Wow, Mammon! I knew you were right!’. It’ll be too good to be true!”

“Usually when things are too good to be true, it’s because they are.” Satan pipes up, not even bothering to glance at another one of his brothers’ infinite arguments.

“Thank you, Satan. Finally, a voice of REASON in this room!” Asmodeus sighs, the sound both forlorn and dramatic. “I swear, such gorgeous bronze skin loses its charm when the person who wears it has about as many brain cells as my pinky finger.”

“Gr...Yeah, well! … Shut up!!” 

The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as it’s forcefully pulled out to seat the exasperated Avatar of Greed, his grumbles unintelligible as he reaches across the table to pile his plate high with food. Another chair is pulled back from the table - much more delicately - as Asmo grabs his own food. After a moment, he hums in thought.

“Where’s ___? I thought she was in charge of cooking dinner tonight.”

“She said that she wanted to study more for the upcoming exams, so she left as soon as she finished cooking.” Satan flips another page of his book as he replies, all of his conscious efforts focused on remaining flippant in his demeanour.

“Awww, our little human is awfully diligent, isn’t she? But that means I don’t get to see her adorable little face over dinner. She’d be much more delicious than this, I’m sure.”

Satan didn’t need to look at his brother to know he was smirking, his eyes likely alight with whatever lustful fantasy he was conjuring up and acting out in his mind. 

He’d hardly ever bat an eye at it. But now? Now, a sudden swell of fire pumps through his blood and makes his lips twitch in distaste.

“Not while I’m eating, Asmo!” Mammon somehow manages to muffle out around a mouthful of food, “Show some class, why don’t cha?”

His remark provokes an apathetic blink and an unenthused stare from Asmo. “You are the last person in the universe who is allowed to lecture me on class. Besides, don’t act innocent. I know that you’ve thought about her that way.”

That causes Mammon to swallow mid-chew, sending him into a coughing fit as he desperately beats at his chest to dislodge the choking hazard. He swallows again and gasps for air unnecessarily loud.

“Y-you can’t just say shit like that while I’m swallowing my damn food, y’know!”

“You’re not denying it, hm?” Asmo rests his elbow on the table and cradles his chin in his palm, grinning at his older brother squirming under his gaze.

“Of course n--NAH! I’d never think of a… a HUMAN like that! Nuh-uh! No way!”

Satan feels his fingers tightening around the book in his hands, his eyes practically burning through the page yet not reading a single letter printed onto the paper.

“But, why not? She’s such a beautiful young woman. Any man, or demon, would have to be blind or completely ignorant to not see what a sexy little thing she is~”

Words no longer process in Satan’s mind, the only sound in his head a high-pitched scream from a kettle way past its boiling point. He barely registers how tightly he exudes pressure on the book he holds, nor does he notice how he’s one lip twitch away from snarling in carnal rage. 

What he does register, however, is the distinct sound of paper ripping. As do his brothers.

He crashes abruptly back into reality, the sight of Mammon’s and Asmo’s astonished faces greeting him. Dazed confusion turns into speechlessness when he turns his eyes down to where they’re looking. His novella, previously in peak condition, now sits split neatly in two, the spine of the book ripped perfectly down the middle and each half held tightly in Satan’s hands.

No one says a word, each demon brother parroting the other with their wide-eyed stares and inability to speak. Until the doors swing open to shatter the silence.

“Man, I’m hungry…”

Oblivious to what he just walked into, Beel walks up and grabs the entire plate in the centre of the table, bringing it in front of him as he takes his seat. Satan rises to his feet just as Beel gets off of his.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Hm? Alright. Are you going to eat your plate?”

He leaves without answering, his footsteps quick yet levelled as he flees the scene, the evidence of his lost control still held tightly in both hands. 

Two demons speechless, one demon oblivious, and the other acutely aware that he can’t ignore this any longer.

~

                     ___: Satan? 

                    ___: Satan, please answer me

                    ___: ...Just a sticker or something 

                    ___: Anything? 

He reads each bubble popping up on his lock screen, but makes no attempt to reply. Leaning back against one of the multiple bookshelves in his bedroom, Satan has long since given up on the mystery novel in front of him, his phone now sitting between the pages as his new reading material.

The device vibrates again and another message comes through.

                    ___: If you’re busy, I understand. But can you let me know if we’re still okay to study together?

That’s right, he muses to himself, she wanted my help. 

With a heavy inward sigh, he sits up straighter and grabs his phone, swiping it open and tapping through to send a reply.

                    Satan: Busy. Ask the others.

As much as I want to, I don’t think I should see you right now.

Instant regret plagues him as soon as he hits send, his stomach shrinking and dropping like a stone in water, sending ripples of guilt and unease through him. He drops his phone carelessly to the side and glares up at the light fixing like it will somehow burn away these alien feelings within him.

Yet through the guilt of letting her down, he’s angry. Angry at himself for letting this happen, for not seeing this coming until it was too late. 

A powerless, frail little human did this to him? The devil on Satan’s shoulder laughs at his pitiful state; oh, the irony.

“What a mess…” He sighs out into the empty room, the literature his only audience. He looks down at his D.D.D., its screen black and lifeless and he curses himself for holding out hope that she’d even reply to him.

So when the screen lights up and dances along to its ringtone, her name dead centre, he almost smacks his head back against the bookshelf with how quickly he straightens up. He grabs his phone and stares at the screen, his mind running so fast that the vibrations from his phone feel numb in his hand.

I shouldn’t answer… I really shouldn’t.

Her expression from their last study session materialises in his mind’s eye, that sweet, shy smile he hopes that she only shows to him. He clenches his phone tight in his palm and, with a frustrated inhale and an equally frustrated exhale, he accepts the call.

“... H-hello.”

Damn his voice for faltering.

“No.”

He blinks at the assertive punch behind that single syllable.

“Um, what?”

“No, I won’t ask the others. Because right now, I’m more worried about a certain demon that has apparently shut himself in his room without explanation.”

Satan sighs in quiet annoyance and judging by the soft sigh from her end, he didn’t mask it well enough. “I’m just studying. It’s nothing for you to be concerned over.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. And I judge that you are very obviously lying.”

He props his knee up and lets his free arm rest on it whilst the hand that holds his phone taps its index finger against the device, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Exhibit A: You’ve been acting weird lately. And it’s not because exams are coming up.”

“Your proof?” he counters.

“I asked your brothers about your behavioural patterns around stressful school-related events, which would include exam and test periods. Every single one said that you don’t act how you’re acting right now. And if six of your brothers isn’t enough proof, I got similar responses from the likes of Barbatos and Diavolo.”

The assurance behind her words gives him pause, himself not expecting to be caught so cleanly in his lie.

“Exhibit B:” she continues, “What’s this about you ripping a book in half at dinner?”

His eyebrow twitches, as do the fingers around his phone.

“Who told you?” He doesn’t mean to come across as hostile as he does. Thankfully, she brushes it off without taking offence.

“Mammon. He was telling everyone how you ‘lost the plot’.”

“Hehehe.” The grin that accompanies his laugh is anything but jovial, “I’m going to have a LOT of fun hunting him down for that.”

Her sigh wrought with worry pulls Satan back from the brink of his sadism. He pictures what expression she’d be making right this second; her eyebrows likely pulled taut, a slight crinkle above her nose its byproduct. Maybe she’s biting her lip the same way she does when she’s fretting over the simplest of things; the thought that she’d be that concerned for him touched him, though he would seldom admit it so quickly.

“And finally, Exhibit C: … me.”

“Y-you...?” He barely recognises his voice with how unsurely it leaves his lips.

“You really think you can pull the wool over my eyes that easily? I may be a human, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

Satan’s nose scrunches up with his confused frown and he bites back, despite himself. “What makes you so sure that something’s wrong with me? You don’t know what I’m thinking, so don’t pretend like you do.”

“I’m not pretending to know, I’m asking you to tell me. And of course I’d notice when something’s wrong with you. I-”

She stops, her breath hitching slightly as she kills the words she was about to utter. She sighs again, a sigh of exasperation.

“Just let me be worried over someone I care about, okay?”

Silence. Her words play in Satan’s mind again despite him just hearing them, seemingly in disbelief.

The suffocating heat of rage, its smoke clawing at his lungs and its flames boiling his blood, is displaced by a calmer, more mellow warmth, akin to a bath run just a tad too hot; warm enough to lose yourself in the feeling, but hot enough to pool your skin in sweat and linger through your body.

Is she feeling this, too? This heat - a cold respite compared to the heat Satan is used to - that’s somehow both addicting yet stifling. It leaves him unsure of whether to draw near or pull away. The only thing he’s sure of is how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

A laugh. His laugh. Short and punctuated, yet relieving of the weight bearing down on his shoulders in an instant.

“Satan?” she calls out in worry.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I just… realised how childish I was being. I’m sorry for speaking to you in that manner. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I deserve a little bit of it for prying. I was just worried. But, you seem better already, so I’m glad.”

Her smile translates so purely through her words that it’s only natural for Satan’s lips to curl upward as well.

“You really didn’t give me any room to argue, did you? That was cruel.”

“I learned from the best, and from his mystery novel and crime show recommendations.”

They both chuckle softly at that, both of their hearts aching in relief to be back in their normal routine. After a pause, she speaks again, her concern clear.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You know I’m here to talk to whenever you need, right?”

His smile twitches slightly, the bittersweet irony threatening to ruin the calm around them.

Kinda hard to talk to you about it when you’re the cause of all of this...

“Yeah, I’m fine. But if I’m ever not, I’ll tell you.”

I’ll tell you that you’re why I’m acting like this. But only when I can find the right words.

Until that moment comes, Satan sits contently as he talks with her, the warmth surrounding him ebbing and flowing like the waves of a tide.

~

“Well? Come on, don’t leave us suspended in, uh… suspense! How’d ya go?”

“Hopefully better than you in a basic understanding of the English language LMAOOO.”

“Says the nerd who speaks in text! Can it, Levi!”

“I’m curious, too.”

“Mmm, mmpf ammff mmmmpff.”

“Beel said he wants to know how you went, too.”

“Well, ___? Don’t keep us all waiting.”

Six of the brothers lean in close, waiting with trepidation for her next words. The one brother yet to speak simply stares expectantly at her, his hand in a fist and pressing his green thumbnail against his lips, his normally indifferent demeanour abnormally showcasing of his own anticipation.

She meets each of their gazes individually before looking to her feet and wringing her hands together. Asmo’s face falls, while both Lucifer and Satan’s expressions harden, expecting the worst. The others simply wait, not willing to believe her signals.

And, sure enough, she raises her head with gusto and breaks out into a triumphant grin.

“Nailed it! Top 10 in every exam!”

What wonderful hype-demons she has, their cheers filling the air and perfectly illustrating her own glee. Asmo places his hand over his heart with a heavy breath, as if it was about to give out.

“You sneaky little-! You can’t toy with us like that, ___. We were all worried about you!”

She sends a grin his way, currently preoccupied with accepting endless high-fives from Mammon and a back hug from Beel, “Guess I couldn’t help myself.”

She yelps and laughs as Beel’s hug lifts her off the ground with a spin, Levi and Belphie pulling her free only to entrap her in a congratulatory hug themselves. Away from the fray, Lucifer hums out a short laugh, his arms crossed in their usual fashion.

“I suppose your little prank can be forgiven for this occasion. You did well, ___.”

Gently pulling herself free from her hug sandwich, she smiles in thanks at Lucifer, but her eyes pull her to look at the demon beside him. His fist still covering his chin, he looks as if he’s still processing the information, responseless to everything else. 

She steps closer to him. No response. 

Another step. He blinks, his eyes locking on her.

That’s all the indication she needs and she springs forward to close the last bit of distance between them, wrapping her arms around Satan’s waist in a tight hug. She giggles at the shocked little “ah” that leaves his lips unfacilitated, and desperately attempts to hold back another at the way he clears his throat pretending that didn’t just happen. His hands move to her shoulders and, for a moment, she expects him to throw her off. But his arms circle around her back instead, his hands cupping her shoulders as he returns the hug, albeit a little stiffly. She smiles into his chest, thankful for a place to hide her face.

“Thank you, Satan. You’re the reason I did so well.”

He murmurs a response, his words a mixture of perplexion and embarrassment, “I didn’t do anything except some extra tutoring.”

“But so much of what we studied was on the exam, so I’m saying it was because of you. Accept it.” she counters, punctuating her words with a squeeze.

Just before the heat overwhelming Satan breaks to the surface and threatens to consume him--

“OI, SATAN! What’s the big idea, takin’ her all for yourself?!”

She stiffens in realisation at Mammon’s shout and quickly untangles herself from him. Satan picks up on the subtle blush blossoming over her cheeks and the way he feels a sense of loss at the warmth she was giving him. That lost warmth is quickly replaced by the fire he has long since grown accustomed to, the demon striking the match this occasion - and on many MANY occasions - being Mammon.

“If you’ll recall, Mammon, she hugged me. I didn’t ‘steal’ anything if she gave it willingly.”

“Ohhhh no! You DEFINITELY stole her! And no one steals property away from THE Great Mammon! I was her first! So I naturally deserve her first, and longest, hugs!”

“Is that so?”

Mammon gulps at the chilling edge to his younger brother’s voice, only emphasised by the smile on his lips, one of murder disguised as a summer’s day. The casual clothes adorning his body dissolve as he moves towards Mammon, replacing the mellow blues and yellows with black and neon green, the tip of his tail uncoiling from around his leg to direct its pointed tip at Mammon. All the while his smile never wavering.

“Speaking of people deserving things, there was an incident that I never talked about with you. I think now’s the perfect time to go over it.”

“I-I don’t thi-GUWWAAAAAH! Le-le-let go! Don’t mess up my hai-RAAAOWOWOWOWOW!!!!”

The rest watch - some with expressions of “serves you right”, others with exasperation, but none of them surprised - as Satan drags Mammon away by his hair.

“While we wait for that to calm down,” Lucifer interjects amidst Mammon’s wailing, “How about we celebrate your accomplishment?”

“Celebrate?” she blinks curiously.

“We prepared a party for you. Whether you succeeded or not, we were gonna party regardless. We’re glad that it’s going to be a nice party, though.” Belphie smiles.

“Simeon and Luke helped us cook up a lot of food. And I held myself back, just for you.” Beel chimes in.

“Yet you still ate two-thirds of the table...” Asmo sighs out.

“Let’s get this started so it can end faster. I picked up a new game from Akuzon and I’ve got my entire night planned out to the second, as long as this all ends by twenty-two hundred hours.”

Levi maneuvers himself behind her and presses his hands against her back to push her hastily towards the party, the rest following close behind. However, she can’t help but turn her head back to where Satan dragged his brother away, a smile creeping onto her lips as she remembers how he stiffened in her arms and hugged her with more tenderness than anyone can imagine a demon could muster. As the party kicks into high gear, she waits patiently for the one who will truly start the party for her.

…

A room almost completely trashed, enough food to be classified as its own country consumed (mainly by one demon), and the promise of headaches that will persist through all of tomorrow…

“I’d say that party was a rousing success!” Asmo announces, looking oddly pleased from his position sprawled over Levi’s lap, the latter too busy playing on his Ninterrordo Switch to notice.

“It was a success at creating the biggest mess yet.” Lucifer sighs, his headache already beginning, “Mammon, you’ll be cleaning up this entire room.”

“Wha-?! Why just me? Beel almost caused a food avalanche and Satan punched a hole in the wall! They should hafta help me!”

“I ate all of the food that fell off the table. So I’ve already cleaned up.”

“And the hole Satan made was made by YOUR head, so it’s more your fault for being an idiot and blabbing about the book incident.”

Mammon seethes silently at Beel’s and Asmo’s immediate shutdowns to his points. He looks around the room, suddenly confused.

“Speaking of, where is Satan?”

“He’s… currently compromised.” Asmo smirks.

At Mammon’s eyebrow raise, he points his finger to the side and everyone turns to look. Leaning against the wall with his legs crossed, Satan stares down at his phone in an obvious attempt at distraction. But his eyes keep darting to his side, incredibly conscious of the weight of a human head on his shoulder, using him for comfort as she breathes evenly in peaceful sleep.

“WHAT THE F--mmM! MMmmmMMM?!?!?!”

Mammon’s shout is cut off by Belphie’s pillow careening into his face with enough force to smack his head against the floor. He sighs as he smothers his brother’s all-too-enthusiastic shouts.

“She’s asleep. Keep it down.”

“If his shouts won’t wake her up, this putrid smell of normie jealousy will. Stupid Mammon.”

“I can hear everything you’re saying, you know.” Satan’s voice rings out, the annoyance behind his words clear. With a sigh, he pockets his phone and shifts as gently as he can to move her.

“What are you doing, Satan?”

He leaves Lucifer’s question hanging in the air, more preoccupied with slipping his arms around her upper back and under her knees to cradle her against him. After moving to his knees and then to his feet, he turns to face his brothers with her in his arms.

“Taking her to her room. I thought I could wait until she woke up naturally, but if you’re all going to keep making this much noise…”

“You don’t need to glare at us.” Asmo laughs, “She’s obviously tired from all that studying and partying. Just make sure you put her to bed like a good boy~”

Not even humouring him with a response, Satan leaves the room, acutely aware of his smirk following him out. 

His footsteps seem to echo as he trudges through the hallway, the portraits ever vigilant and watching. Her soft breaths draw his focus, her head tucked in and resting against his chest. A smile creeps onto his lips at the way her curled fingers flex and relax against her chest, almost like a cat kneading its paws. He knows he shouldn’t enjoy this, shouldn’t be watching someone sleep. But his eyes had drifted to her face before he could stop himself and there they now stay, his feet on autopilot as he makes his way to her room.

He readjusts his hold on her, eliciting a soft mumble. Satan stops, afraid that he woke her. She shifts slightly, nuzzling into his chest and resting her head against his collarbone, a breathy sigh ghosting from her lips. He shudders, his fingers tightening against her thigh on impulse, and he’s suddenly extremely thankful for his high-necked shirt, unsure of how he would have handled her breath against his bare skin. Satan scowls and hastens his pace, desperate to leave those rogue thoughts behind and get her out of his arms as soon as physically possible.

The door opens with a soft creak and he shoulders her through into her bedroom. He tuts softly at her leaving her tableside lamp on but smiles at the open book on her bed. A quick skim of the contents confirms it as one of the books he lent to her, his heart fluttering in his chest at the fact.

The bed creaks under their combined weight as he sits on its edge, his previous thoughts of putting her down as soon as possible now no louder than a whisper to his conscience. The weight of her against his legs and in his arms, the calming warmth emanating from her that leaves him oddly restless for more, the way her eyelashes flutter softly in her sleep; suddenly, all Satan wishes for is this moment to last longer than he knows it should.

Freeing his hand from underneath her legs, he rests it atop her knee and stares down at her face, her head still resting against his chest. He can feel a heat creeping onto his face - the same heat from when she hugged him and thanked him so earnestly - yet he can’t find it in himself to dislike the feeling. Hesitantly, he moves his hand and cups her cheek, his fingers and palm moulding to the shape of her face like this is where they belong.

“So warm…”

Mystified and unaware he released his inner thoughts into the open, Satan studies her face while his hand basks in her addictive warmth, his thumb greedy for more as it traces the contour of her cheekbone with the same gentle care of flipping a page. Her shoulders roll back and she leans further into his touch, turning her face into his hand. Satan stiffens at her lips brushing against his thumb, but the happy hum and subsequent deep breath she releases against his skin freeze him in place before he can pull away. 

He was right. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to handle her breath against his exposed skin.

With a thick swallow, he entertains pressing his thumb into her bottom lip. How it gives way to him so easily is fascinating and he doesn’t know if his thumb is shaking from fear of her waking up and him having to explain what he was doing, or the giddying thrill of chasing this warmth now pooling rapidly within him and begging for more. 

Satan’s breath leaves him stuttered, his eyes following the path his thumb paves over her bottom lip, so soft and so malleable to his touch. He can’t break his gaze away, afraid of the spell shattering and dragging him by the scruff back to reality if he did. He doesn’t want this to end. Just this once, he could indulge himself - he could give in to the feeling instead of fighting it, propriety be damned. All he wants at this moment is to study her lips; what they feel like, how they move, how hot they can grow, how they taste, how…

How they… taste. How… they… 

Taste.

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, and only vaguely registers his fluttering lashes as he opens them again. But the rush of heat cascading over him and pulling him under like a riptide yanks him back to the path of reason. 

Heat bordering on scalding centres at his lips and sends pulses of heat to singe through his entire body. And at its epicentre is her lips, brushing ever so softly against his own.

The yelp that leaves Satan is strangled and confused and he jerks back, suddenly unconcerned over if he wakes her or not. He deposits her onto the bed, almost destroys the switch on the lamp turning it off and makes a break for the door. He curses his hearing for registering a soft mumble from her while he flees, as if taunting him further when she has already taken over the better part of his thoughts. 

Leaning against the closed door, Satan stands stock still, feebly attempting to process what just occurred. How did he even get that close to her? He remembers being entranced by her lips, their softness, their feeling, wanting to taste them…  

He stops before he falls too far back into his thoughts. He’s too hot - his face, his body, his… something that Asmo would be proud of. His blood is boiling for an entirely different reason other than anger. With only the paintings on the walls as his witnesses, he returns to his room on unstable legs, convincing himself that if he sleeps now, everything that happened will be nothing more than a dream.

~

Satan knows better than to repeat the same mistake twice. And he doesn’t plan on doing so. Even with every fibre of his being begging him to save face and strategically disappear until it all dies down, he knows it’s not that simple. Plus, he doesn’t want to avoid her again.

That doesn’t make this walk to the dining hall for breakfast any less daunting. His meandering pace screams hesitance, but he continues to walk forward in the hopes that each step will be easier than the last. It’s not.

He grabs the handle to the door and pushes it open before his brain has a chance to interject, his own pride too great to make him act so cowardly. However, as he steps into the dining hall, Satan is surprised to find it mostly empty. Only one other person sits idly at the long dining table, their elbows resting on the table and their fingers tented with their chin resting atop them, a small, sly grin on their lips greeting Satan as he enters.

“Hello, my dear big brother. Nice of you to join me. I was almost afraid that you’d stood me up.”

A hand on his hip and his lips pressed together with discontent, he replies, “What are you doing, Asmo?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all. Just wanted to have a little heart-to-heart.”

“About?”

“Don’t play dumb, Satan. You know what about.”

He stiffens slightly at the quietly admonishing tone behind Asmodeus’ words. With a sigh, he shuts the door behind him and moves to take his usual seat at the table. The two sit in silence for a moment, Satan’s eyes glued to the table and unable to meet Asmodeus’ inquiring gaze. Then, a bubbly chuckle dispels the serious air, even when Satan lifts his eyes to glare at the offender.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I just find it quite ironic,” Asmo leans in further, his smile widening, “I never thought I’d be sitting here consoling YOU. Maybe the sun will rise in the Devildom tomorrow.”

Satan returns his gaze to the table, his finger tapping against the wood in a purposefully steady pattern.

“Alright, alright.” Asmo sighs, “Joking aside, we’ve all been a bit worried about you recently, one of us especially so.”

The twitch of Satan’s finger against the table urges Asmodeus forward.

“A certain little sweetheart of a human asked us to make sure our dumb brother was taking care of himself. All of that pure warmth and concern of hers going completely to waste…”

His eyebrows furrow, but he says nothing. Asmodeus continues.

“It’s almost like she genuinely cares about him and wants the best for him. Of course, she could just be doing it out of the kindness in her heart, but she seems awfully insistent on spending more time with him than the others. Poor Levi has been throwing himself into his games even more than usual to fight back the envy he feels over that fact.”

“Is that so?”

Asmo shifts to rest his cheek on one palm, his head tilted quizzically and sighing with almost convincing perplexion. He sneaks a glance at Satan, aware of the demon fighting back a smile.

“She’s even been turning me down. ME! And I’m clearly the most beautiful demon in all of the Devildom! She must have bizarre tastes to go after a demon who rips a book in half because his brother says she’s gorgeous, and who ignores her for days because he doesn’t know how to act in front of her.”

His tongue tied, Satan can only convey his guilt and annoyance through his eyes and actions. And Asmodeus registers every single one. Dropping his hand from his chin, he clasps his hands together and leans forward onto his forearms, prompting Satan to meet his oddly serious gaze. Jewels of amber and jade pool together as their eyes meet, the less powerful demon’s gaze oddly paternal and wise compared to his usual self.

“But love and lust do that to people. It makes them do stupid things and makes them fall for stupid people.”

“...”

“Not going to deny it?”

A bitter chuckle, “I don’t have it in me to.”

“Because you have no rebuttal, right?”

Satan’s strained smile wavers slightly. He turns his head down to the table with a cynical, self-deprecating laugh before willing himself to meet Asmodeus’ eye again. “If you had tried to tell me this not even a day ago, I wouldn’t have listened to you. I would have entertained the thought, but never would have admitted it out loud...”

“You still haven’t, you know~” Asmo says with a coy bat of his eyelashes.

“Don’t push your luck.”

A short pause before the two demons let out their soft laughter, alleviating the serious atmosphere. A welcome calm for the whirlwind of Satan’s thoughts, if only briefly.

Love… It IS love that I’m feeling. Heh, I think… I could get used to this feeling.

“Soooo?” Asmodeus inquires, his eyes lighting up as they narrow gleefully, “When did you start falling for our dear little ___?”

“You’re the Avatar of Lust. You tell me.”

The level-headedness of Satan’s response draws a pout to Asmo’s lips. “But I wanna know straight from the source! Unless that means I have to ask her for the details. With enough… persuasion, I’m sure I can get her to tell me anything.”

A wide grin splits Satan’s lips. “Sounds like someone wants their head immortalised in the wall just like Mammon.”

The Avatar of Lust raises his hands up in mock surrender, yet his eyes are peaked with intrigue. 

“I jest, I jest! But wow, you really can’t take a joke when it comes to her, can you?” He tucks a loose strand of his hair back into place and leans in with a smirk, “You’ve got it baaaad. You’re so in loooooove~”

The serene smile on Satan’s face belies the horns growing and curling out of his head, the aura surrounding him dense, like a black hole of barely suppressed rage. Asmo raises his hands again in innocence, movements more stilted and frantic than before.

“Okay, okay! I’ll stop, I’ll stop. Just-“ he taps a finger against one of the obsidian horns as he stands from his seat, “-put those away and do NOT push my face into a wall! You will not ruin the very thing that makes me beautiful, or you will have hoards of succubi coming after you!”

His horns retract with a roll of his eyes, his gaze trained on Asmo as the Avatar of Lust moves towards the door. Satan’s eyebrow raises.

“That’s it?”

Asmo stops, tilting his head back to his brother without fully turning to face him, “What? Were you expecting the ‘a demon should never fall in love with a human’ lecture? I’m not Lucifer.”

Satan snorts, a bitter grin splitting his lips, “Does that mean he knows about this and is going to berate me later?”

Asmo’s shoulders rise and fall with the hyperbole of a stage actor or a five-year-old, Satan choosing the latter as a more accurate description.

“Who knows? I don’t. I haven’t told anyone and, as far as I know, I’m the only one who’s figured out why you’ve been acting so weird around ___.”

He turns his head to face forward again, hiding his beaming, scheming smile from Satan, “But if I were you, I would hash out your feelings now, before all of our brothers figure it out and try to do something stupid. For example… try to stop you, or maybe… try to take ___ for themselves?”

The scrape of the chair against the floor as Satan leaps to his feet has Asmo chuckling despite himself.

“Sorry! Couldn’t help myself.”

Satan’s death stare softens when Asmodeus turns back once again to meet his eyes, the look he sends the Avatar of Wrath oddly kind considering his teasing not five seconds before.

“Just be honest with her and you’ll be fine, Satan. Lust is the body’s way of telling the truth, and love is the same for the heart. Trust your brother on that~”

With those parting words, Asmo takes his leave, leaving Satan to stand there mulling his words over in thought. As he struts down the hallway, Asmo can’t help but let a little sigh escape his lips.

“I meant what I said, Satan. You better snatch her up before I do. Just be thankful that I’m giving you a head start.”

~

He wishes that he could be bold enough to go straight to her and confess his revelation - confess that she has taken over the better part of his thoughts for so long that she has basically denounced him as the Avatar of Wrath altogether.

But, unfortunately for him, his rational side is much more in control than his emotional side, even with the realisation of his feelings for her. Any inkling of thought to approach her, any free chance to change the subject or whisk her away to speak in private is cut off… by his own doing.

Curse you for giving me some of your foolish pride, Lucifer. Satan seethes inwardly, looking for anyone to blame regardless of accountability.

Strolling with palpable irritation through the House of Lamentation’s halls, he pulls his phone out for the umpteenth time today, swiping it open and opening the messaging app. He stares at her contact, top of the list. The last message sent was her sending a sticker, the little demon character smiling brightly at him. With a slow, deliberate inhale, he focuses on dispelling all of his inhibitions with this exhale. Then, with every fibre of his being, he stops himself from thinking and simply lets his thumbs type away against the screen.

                    Satan: Are you busy right now? If not, come to my room for a bit.

He hits send before pausing to look over the message. With his eyebrows furrowing and that just-short-of-comfortable warmth pooling in the depth of his stomach, he types out a second message.

                    Satan: I want to see you.

That message sends a much harsher jolt of warmth through him as he hits send, suddenly self-conscious at his boldness and acutely aware of how direct and clear his message is. Even though he was staring directly at the screen, the vibration of the reply still makes him jump. Scolding himself and shaking his head, he pours his eyes over the screen.

                    ___: Okay! I’ll be there in 10.

Three little dots dance in sequence beneath the text, Satan’s hint to know that she’s typing something else. What appears is a sticker, the little red demon character blushing as it averts its eyes. Satan is quick to mimic the sticker - though unintentionally - his free hand covering his mouth as he turns his eyes to the ground, the heat emanating from his cheeks coursing into his fingertips.

Is that a good sign? I’ve read that courting for humans is the same for demons, but that was a book from the last millennia so maybe it’s changed since then? … I’m reading too much into this. Stop thinking, Satan!

With a grunt and a grimace, Satan continues down the hall, his footsteps heavier with anticipation and nerves. He vaguely registers a side glance and eyebrow raise from Lucifer as he passes him, but he doesn’t stop to process it. Not when the biggest challenge of his life was looming above him and ready to strike.

…

It was the longest ten minutes of this immortal demon’s entire life.

But the soft sound of knocking fills the quiet room and Satan is quick to open the door. He’s greeted by an equally soft smile, her cheeks rising with her clear happiness at seeing him. Satan feels the desire to let his gaze drift down to her lips, but he resists; every interaction with her begins this way after that night, but thankfully he can retain a somewhat normal air without her noticing his gawking.

Without a word, he opens the door further and steps aside. She walks past him as she enters the room, Satan aware of her eyes never leaving him even after he closes the door. Now alone in his room is when Satan begins to feel nerves twist his stomach into knots and swell in his throat like a lodged rock.

“Thank you for coming. I realise it was short notice.” He hopes he sounds normal enough as he says that.

She replies with a soft laugh, “Of course. I always enjoy seeing you.”

Satan swears he feels his ribcage jolt with how hard his heart hammers against his chest. Her words hold such power over him that he starts to second-guess if she might be a wizard like Solomon. He closes his eyes and clears his throat, raising one hand to his hip and the other to his chest.

“Hm. Well, good. I… I do, too.”

Keeping his eyes closed, he finds the words coming to him easier.

“Do you remember when you told me to come and talk to you whenever I needed to?”

“Yeah, I do.” He hears her small heeled boots click once, twice, against the floor, her voice closer than before as she worriedly asks, “Is something wrong?”

Satan swallows thickly. “I wouldn’t say ‘wrong’, per se. It’s just… difficult. I haven’t felt anything like this before, so it was quite the mission to wrap my head around before I could accept the truth.”

The hand at his chest clenches into a fist, his sweater balled into its middle - directly over his heart.

“I found it infuriating at first, and even more so when I became aware of what this was. But now, I’m just angry at myself because I can’t look you in the eyes as I tell you this.”

“Why can’t you?”

An understandable question, yet it tightens the frown on Satan’s face and makes his breath leave him as a hiss through clenched teeth.

“Because looking at you makes me want to--!” He bites his tongue and turns his back to her, the end of his sentence ushering from his lips with remorse and shame, “--it makes me want to kiss you...”

A beat of silence. Enough to convince Satan that everything he has said has ruined their chances at ever having a normal conversation again. 

Her footsteps announce themselves as she steps closer, each one cautious as if she is approaching a frightened yet powerful beast. Gently, she places her hand on his shoulder, and Satan tenses slightly at her warmth - at her warmth only making his own warmth burn hotter.

“Satan.”

Please, don’t do it, he begs silently. But it is ultimately futile.

“Satan, look me in the eye.”

His body moves on its own accord, obeying the pact without any concern for the demon’s reluctance. She doesn’t command him - nor any of the demon brothers - that often through the pacts she made with them, but they know that when she does, it’s serious. Satan turns around, his arms moving to hang rigidly at his sides before his eyes are forced open by demonic influence.

She stands in front of him, no more than a foot away, her head tilted up to meet his eyes. And she looks… beautiful. Her eyes glisten with the beginnings of tears, yet her gaze is clear and focused only on his face. Her cheeks are stained a tempting shade of pink and stretch out to caress her ears. And her lips look so tantalizing and soft as she releases a breath from them. 

For a moment, the two stand there staring at each other, absorbing each other’s palpable emotions and letting themselves get lost in the other’s eyes. Then, she raises her hand and carefully cups the Avatar of Wrath’s cheek with a touch so tender that he forgets himself for a moment. His eyes widen and his lungs halt their breaths, everything ceasing to focus on the warmth and softness of her hand against him.

“___…” Satan breathes out, his voice confused and pleading, desperate for both more and less simultaneously.

The pad of the human’s thumb strokes against the skin of Satan’s cheek, seemingly lost in the act of touching him. He swallows around the lump in his throat and waits for her to speak, the everpresent heat only flaring hotter at the addition of her skin caressing his own.

“Tell me, Satan.” Her cheeks flush further and her eyes communicate hope and affection, “Why do you want to kiss me?”

“Because, I…”

Her hand moves to the back of his neck, her fingers sweet as they comb through his blond hair in a comforting, encouraging way. Lost in her eyes yet emboldened by her actions, his own hand lifts to cup her cheek, his thumb gravitating to push on her lower lip, so plush and perfect.

“Because I love you.”

His whispered words incite the warmth within him, breaking the dam and flooding his entire body with this sweet, addictive heat. Satan moves his thumb, replacing it with his lips as he finally, finally listens to his heart. She hums into the kiss, her fingers gliding further into his hair and tightening her grip, just enough to keep her presence known. Their lips part with incredible reluctance, their faces still so close together that neither can see anything except the other’s lips, both open and ready for more.

“I love you, too.”

… What?

Satan baulks, his breath leaving him as a confused gasp that he couldn’t mask quickly enough. She laughs softly at his confusion, her fingertips moving to brush his fringe out of his face while her other hand moves to grip his shoulder with a comforting squeeze.

“I love your company, your wit, how sweet you can be, your kindness. I love you, Satan. And I want to kiss you, too.”

His heart soars at her words, his brain struggling to catch up. But his body does not wait to react, the heat beneath his skin now burning his blood and fogging his brain. His eyes darken and his breath leaves his lips hot and desperate. Whilst familiar sensations, they feel foreign to Satan, this heat being too… addicting. He wants - no, needs - more.

His inhibitions discarded, his lips reunite with hers with such vigour that she gasps against him. Satan takes the opportunity to trace his tongue over her lips, poking and prodding at them, desperate for access. Her shock subsiding, she gladly relents with a sweet sigh and Satan claims her, his tongue running along the roof of her mouth before seeking out her own tongue to twine with. His hand still holding her cheek, the other loops around her waist and pulls her flush against him, desperate to feel more of her warmth and to share this glorious, suffocating heat with her. Her hands move as well, her grip tightening on his sweater while the other returns to his hair, carding her fingers through it and gripping tight.

Satan inhales sharply through his nose before deepening the kiss. She pulls his hair harder in response, the action spurring him on and making him want more. He sucks her bottom lip between his teeth, toying softly with it, lulling her into safety before biting down. Her groan is let out into the air unmuffled by their kiss, Satan pulling back with her lip still between his teeth. He lets go, letting her catch her breath and letting his eyes rake over the fierce blush on her face and the sweet, swollen velvet red of her lips. He pulls her back for another kiss, his impatience mounting. She returns it eagerly, her gasps and moans chorusing together. Their hands move over each other like the ebb and flow of a tide, each responding to the other and reacting in turn.

Their lips never leaving each other, Satan staggers backwards, urging her to follow. His back hits the door of his room with more force than she expected, her balance skewing and her chest colliding with Satan’s. She releases his lips with a gasp, pulling back to make sure he’s alright, but the hand on her cheek pulls her back in for more, a moaned grunt of satisfaction leaving Satan.

“Don’t stop.” He breathes out against her lips, his words muffled by the kiss he speaks through. 

When she hesitates, Satan moves his hand from her cheek to the back of her head. He lets his fingers be enveloped in the silky river of her hair before gripping it and tilting her head back with just enough force to hurt. She gasps, an edge of pain in her voice, but a whimper follows as Satan attaches his lips to the sensitive skin of her pulse point. Soft yet fierce kisses travel across the plains of her neck down to the collar of her shirt before retracing each step anew, his teeth nipping every so often at her soft skin just so Satan can feel her twitch beneath him. The pleasure he feels pooling within him is incredible, the heat intoxicating and desperate for release.

If I’m not careful, I might just--

His lips reattach to her pulse point, sucking and nibbling at the skin whilst the hand at her waist adjusts to trace his fingers along her spine, relishing in the way her body follows his touch as if begging for more.

I need more.

He moves back up to cherish her jaw, kissing along its edge until he reaches her ear. Her breath leaves her as a shuddered moan when Satan takes her earlobe between his lips, his tongue playful in its caresses and his teeth gentle in its affection against her sensitive organ.

“S-Satan…”

Her saccharine voice makes him sigh, the sound reverberating right into her ear and sending a shiver of pleasure through her. Just before he can return to her waiting lips--

“Satan! You in there?”

The voice and simultaneous knock shock the two in the room, the vibrations of the knock felt through their bodies significantly. In a panic, she buries her face into Satan’s chest to prevent any sound of shock from escaping. His hand still on her head, he gently strokes her hair both to calm her and to compose himself.

“What? I’m busy.”

“Lucifer needs ya. Better come quick before he throws a fit.”

Satan clicks his tongue at Mammon’s awfully timed message, “Alright. I’ll be over shortly.”

“Don’t leave it too long or we’ll both be in deep trouble! And I won’t forgive ya for it!”

His older brother’s heavy footsteps disappear into silence as he leaves, but they remain silent and still for a moment longer just to be safe. Convinced that they’re alone once again, Satan buries his face into the crown of her head and sighs deeply, his breath tousling her locks and wafting the sweet scent of her hair into his nostrils. He feels her nuzzle into his chest and he can’t help but smile at the action, his past thoughts of her being cat-like re-emerging in his mind. 

After another minute enjoying each other’s embraces on borrowed time, Satan begrudgingly pulls himself back. She follows suit, pushing herself from his chest but keeping her hands against him just as an excuse to touch him. Their eyes meet and they share an embarrassed smile, both of them flushed and glowing with a subtle hint of yearning and lust.

“You okay?”

His question makes her smile widen and she stands on her toes to press a ghost of a kiss against his lips, one so quick that he can’t react quick enough to reciprocate.

“More than.” she grins, “The demon I love returns my feelings. How can I not be okay?”

A troubled smile couples with tender eyes to make Satan realise that his heart is definitely going to be tested with this human if she keeps this up. But, the thought of always feeling so pleasantly lost for words and lighter than air doesn’t actually sound that bad to him.

He’s distracted from his thoughts by her hand sweeping a stray blond lock of his hair back into place, her eyes narrowing with unadulterated affection.

“Go on, then. I don’t want you to get in trouble with Lucifer.”

Satan nods, yet neither of them moves. His fingers massage the muscles at her hips, and hers trace over his collarbone through the fabric of his shirt. He can’t help but grin wryly at how easily this human has him in the palm of her hand, but realises that she likely feels the same about him. It makes him happy to imagine but, ultimately, the thought of Lucifer coming after him overpowers his greater desire to stay.

He pushes her away gently by her hips and moves away from the door. Quickly straightening out his clothes, he hesitates to turn to leave as he eyes her face. She raises an eyebrow at him and he lets out a soft laugh.

“One more?”

She rolls her eyes, but her grin and the twinkle in her eyes give her away. Satan closes the distance between them, his hand moulding to the shape of her face as he cups her cheek and his lips doing the same as they meet hers. Slow, smouldering, sweet; the kiss lingers even as they both pull away, the kiss kept short lest they get lost within their passions again.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back.” She whispers with a conspiratorial smile, one Satan can’t help but mirror.

With a final, final peck to her lips, Satan pulls himself away from temptation and opens the door to leave, his eyes locked on her for as long as possible before closing the door behind him. The sweet, lingering heat still coursing through his veins simmers gently through him, her warmth and her scent reminding him of her presence despite her absence. He scoffs, yet the smile alighting his lips doesn’t match the sound.

I’m an idiot. And she’s an idiot for choosing me. But, now that I have her, I won’t let her go. This warmth of hers is mine.

As he starts walking towards Lucifer’s room, Satan does his best to school his features to keep the content smile off his face. But he can’t deny that it’s difficult, knowing that she’ll be waiting for him to return. And that she loves him and yearns for him, too.

That fact fills him with sweet, loving warmth.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me satan #obey me female MC #I had a lot of fun writing this so hopefully you all like it too uwu #alternate title: Satan is a dingus #long fic