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aparticularbandit · 1 year

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Agatha and Stephen Go on a Trip: In Which Agatha Investigates and Stephen Has a Surprise

Summary: At Wanda’s request, Agatha questions Stephen about too-long absent members of their family. When she recasts an old spell, they end up going on a journey that neither of them really wanted.

Sequel to Finding Family.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

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She told herself she would never actually go in the New York Sanctum again, after that last time, but the problem with telling herself that is knowing that, well. As long as she literally had an apartment right next door. Inevitably.

But honestly, she had a rent controlled apartment in New York City. Sure, sure, she could use magic to override her landlord’s mind and make it completely free (and, sure, she might have already done that once or twice over the past few decades, when whoever inherited the building tried to fuck around with her (How can you be the same resident from over a century ago? That’s not possible! – Dear, you live on a planet of superheroes that gets visited by aliens, and you think you have some normal human being just hanging out in this apartment? That you can boss around? This is why New York gets attacked by every new wannabe villain; it’s not the Worf Effect or a symbol or anything – it’s entitled landlords not remembering that people with powers exist and can punch the ever-loving shit out of them when they get pissed off. Almost as bad as working in customer service. Yeesh)) – but what would be the fun in that? She’s not Wanda, after all. She doesn’t need everything to go her way all of the time.

Admittedly, Wanda is the reason she’s here in the first place. Something about America and Wendy being part of this new Baby Vengeance team or something like that (she knows the real name, but she enjoys seeing the frustration in Wanda’s expression when she refuses to use the right term, loves seeing her pinch the bridge of her nose, delights when, eventually, Wanda says, “I’m not even going to correct you anymore, Agatha; I know you’re doing this on purpose” and still sighing with exasperation anyway); something about how they’ve been gone for far too long this time. That thin tremor under her voice that suggests just how worried she’s trying not to be.

For a witch able to control the very fabric of reality in this universe, Wanda has gotten surprisingly good at not sticking her nose into everybody else’s business.

Why would she need to do that when she has Agatha to do it for her?

(In most cases, Agnes would be better, but they can’t get Agnes without having America open a portal to that universe she and Ash are shacking up in, so she’s the next best thing. Besides. She has centuries of being the New York Sanctum’s nosy neighbor. It’s just a shame that Cian is no longer here to see it.)

Agatha mutters a spell just under her breath, one hand flicking through a sequence of specific gestures, and reaches her mind into the sanctum. Someone with an unguarded mind doesn’t need this high of a spell to be simply touched, but the sanctum itself provides an impressive barrier to anyone who doesn’t have the right password. Fortunately for her, the new master hadn’t changed it when he arrived. Honestly, he probably doesn’t even know how, isn’t even aware of the threads of witchcraft woven into the sorcery that protects his “domain”.

All her spells, so even if he did try to change things, it wouldn’t really work. He’d need another witch to help him.

Of course, he could always ask Wanda, but the poor dear doesn’t have the level of sophisticated knowledge to craft a spell as intricate as this one. Power, sure. But it’s always the knowledge that will get in her way. She’d teach her, if Wanda asked, but she’s never felt the need.

Or maybe it’s just her.

That’s fine. She won’t take it personally.

(Wanda did learn that nifty spell Agatha used to create a sound barrier around the room they share whenever she visits. That had been a nice surprise.)

Agatha sighs loudly as she strides into the sanctum, one arm crossed against her chest, the elbow of the other in her hand, pointer finger pulling on her lower lip. “Oh, Stephen, dear?” she calls, hearing her voice echo most pleasantly around the hollow room. “You have a visitor who does not like to be kept waiting.”

And yet – despite the fact that she knows he is here – she’d reached out and touched his mind so softly that he probably never felt her presence – there’s a long wait before anything happens at all.

One should never leave a bored Agatha Harkness waiting.

Stephen isn’t even the one who goes to see her. For all his posturing, he isn’t the Sorcerer Supreme, and yet he keeps his broken fingers in whatever intricate work he is doing and sends his Supreme to go speak with her. Wong strides down the only remotely impressive staircase (it’s impressive if you’ve never traveled the world, and it’s impressive because when Cian brought her here to build the sanctum with them, she’d want a staircase such as this, and they hadn’t denied it to her, so Agatha is certain that if anyone is allowed to make fun of the staircase, it’s her) and stops before he reaches the last step. “What did you do?”

“I got bored.”

Agatha stands on the edge of the last step and smiles down at the tidal pool she’s crafted along the open floor. She kneels down as a bright orange koi fish draws near to her, brushes a finger along its spine, and then holds out some fish food for him to nibble on. “Beautiful creatures, aren’t they?”

When Wong doesn’t say anything, Agatha straightens. “Don’t worry. You can still walk on them. See, look—” She makes to step into the pond, and Wong grabs her arm. It’s a nice gesture, one she’s certain Strange wouldn’t have made at all, but unnecessary. She shakes his hand off and sets her foot down; the pool ripples as it would as if she stepped into it, and yet her foot doesn’t sink beneath the waves. “Magic.”

“Agatha—”

“It will be fun, don’t you think, hon?” Agatha asks, turning to him with a soft smile. “For Strange to stumble around before realizing he can’t get wet?” It is only then that she moves up the last two stairs to him and touches his face gently with one hand. “Good to see you, Wong, but my fight is not with you.”

“We just cleaned the place.” Wong gives her a firm look. “Don’t be the reason we have to do it again.”

Agatha snorts. “You’re the Sorcerer Supreme, Wong. You should never have to clean up after anyone.” She reaches over to pat his shoulder before passing him by.

“The Ancient One did,” Wong says, just as she passes.

For a moment, Agatha pauses. “They aren’t here anymore,” she says, finally, “and I told them to stop doing that a long time ago.” She gives Wong’s shoulder another pat. “Quit letting Strange walk all over you, hon. You are the Sorcerer Supreme. Not him. He’s just a grunt, and you—” She cuts herself off with a deep sigh. “Never mind. He’s in that brooding room again, isn’t he? Doing the deep magical angsty brooding?” Turns just enough to waggle her fingers. “Being all Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way?”

Wong chuckles. “He’s not that bad.”

“He probably hasn’t even read that fic.”

“I haven’t.” Wong shoots her a look as she continues to climb the stairs. “You haven’t.”

“Don’t have to read something I had a hand in writing,” Agatha calls back in a singsong voice from the top of the stairs. She waves a hand dismissively, takes the first immediate right, and heads off for the room she always finds Strange in. When he doesn’t, you know, come storming down the staircase as soon as she arrives just to try and shoo her out the front door. (Which never works, by the way, although he just keeps trying.)

“Agatha,” Strange begins in his grumbling, annoyed bass of a voice as soon as she cracks the door open, “I do not have time for your pestering—”

“Oh, I’m not here for pestering, Stevie boy—” Agatha leaves the door cracked open, even as the sorcerer’s feeble attempts at magic crackle around her. “—and honestly, you should keep to your sorcery shtick. The magic you’re running in here is bad code.” She tucks one pinky into it, straightens some of the fraying edges, and plops down cross-legged on the ground across from him. “I’m here on business.”

Strange doesn’t even look up from the orb he’s pondering. “I don’t remember having any business with you.”

Agatha’s grin turns wolfish. “I didn’t say it was my business, hon.”

“And don’t call me Stevie boy.”

“Stevie Wonder, then.” Agatha’s grin grows as Strange’s discomfort does, and she leans forward. “I’m here on behalf of my god-daughter and my apprentice—”

“Your what?” Stephen’s head snaps up, and the orb in front of him sparks dangerously orange. His eyes widen. “Shit—” His gaze returns to the orb. “This really isn’t the best time—”

Agatha ignores him. “See, that’s the thing, hon. It’s been more than enough time since Wendy and America should come back to visit—”

One of Stephen’s eyebrows raises. “Since when has Wendy become your god-daughter—”

“Wendy is my apprentice, and America is—”

“When did you even meet her parents?”

“You know, in another universe, the Chavez family and I are quite close.” Agatha begins to examine the orb curiously. “You’re doing that wrong. You want to—”

Stephen grits his teeth together. “I know what I’m doing Agatha—”

Again, Agatha ignores him. “You want to do this—” She draws a complicated sorcerer’s diagram on the ground beneath the orb, and it glows a golden orange – lighter than the blazing fire red orange of that contained in the orb – before snapping once. Then the diagram disappears, as does the angry spiking glow within the orb. “Told you.”

“I wanted that—” Stephen swallows down his frustration and glares at her with ice blue eyes. On a weaker person, that might have meant something, but Agatha’s seen worse. Dealt with worse. She’s not intimidated by this egotistic asshat. He brushes his hands along his hoodie and then sticks them into the front pocket. “What. do. you. want?” he asks, each word a sentence on its own, emphasized by his continuing frustration with her.

Agatha holds up one finger. “America.” She flicks up a second. “Wendy.” She smiles in a way that is much more baring her teeth than smiling. “Where are they?”

“On a mission—”

“Where—”

“I can’t just take you—”

“You normally send them out of this room, don’t you, wonder boy?” Agatha asks. She breathes in the dust of magical after-effects, runs the taste of crusty old sorcery along her tongue, grimaces because Strange’s attempts are nowhere near as tasty as Cian’s had been, and then lets out a breath. “I can follow them just fine.” She stands and gives him a wink. “Thanks for the—”

“Wait—”

Strange grabs Agatha’s wrist just as she snaps her fingers, just as she follows the traces of a teleportation spell that reeked of decomposed age, cementing it around the moment that America and Wendy disappeared, and when her cloud of violently violet smoke surrounds her, it surrounds him, too. The cape around his neck tries desperately to keep him from leaving – almost hard enough to keep her there, too, except that Agatha’s magic is older and sterner and more cantankerous than Stephen’s attempts at sorcery are, and when she digs in her metaphorical heels a little harder, the cape loses its grip, and they fly away.

When the smoke clears, Agatha finds herself in a not unfamiliar place.

One she should not have been able to get to simply by using magic.

Her eyes narrow as she turns to Stephen. “You sent them back to Neverland. Using sorcery.” She glares at him. “How? And more importantly, why?”

Stephen straightens himself, and as he does, his cloak fixes itself about his neck more properly. He pulls a sparkling blue stone out of his hoodie pocket and dangles it on a thick, dark steel chain. “This was supposed to be destroyed. And yet, I have one. Why do you think that—”

“The universe naturally wants to reconstruct those atoms into a complete whole again, and—” Agatha cuts herself off and pinches the bridge of her nose. “That would take thousands of years. Tens of thousands of years. How did you get a Space Stone, hon?”

Stephen sighs. “It’s a long story.”

Agatha gestures to the world around them and then crosses her arms. “I think we’ve got all the time in the universe, wonder boy. Get to talking.”

#bandit fic #finding family with wanda and america #going on a journey with agatha and stephen #agatha harkness #stephen strange #wong mcu #mcu wong #mcu #dsmom #queue

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electricbluebutterflies · 2 years

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Nile/Booker + “just come over.”

PG-ish, post-movie, pre-relationship.

Apparently this whole exile thing has some loopholes.

Nile is still new at the whole immortal thing, thank you very much, and it seems like a lot of the lifestyle changes take decades if not centuries to adapt to, but one of the main things she understands as of about three years in is that very few rules are absolute. Take the whole no-contact-with-the-cactus-who-tried-to-sell-us-out thing, for instance. As had been explained to her at the time, that had seemed pretty absolute. Turned out it isn’t.

With how rare they are, the justification apparently goes, it’s just bad etiquette to estrange one of their own too much. Doesn’t mean they all have to play nice, just means it isn’t actually no-contact.

Which is great, because Nile is still new at this thing and it’s nice to have someone around who’s also experienced that newness within the last millennium.

Paris is both central and big, a good city to try to put down roots to the extent that her indefinite lifespan will allow her to do so. That it is also close to a certain person she’s supposed to at least be icy with if not fully distant from, and that she ends up in the next neighborhood over because immortality does come with existent financial resources and she picked the apartment for the view, is here nor there. She’s not doing anything inappropriate, she tells herself, it’s just… nice to have connections around who may actually want to help her with the mundane.

Today, the mundane is the fact that even a post-war building is still eighty years old and she’s pretty sure that light fixture isn’t supposed to be sparking and electrocution is not her favorite way to die, and French people take long vacations and she’s run through her options, and-

I need a favor, she texts, because rules be damned, Booker is the only person she knows who’s even on the same continent as her right now.

What kind of favor?

Domestic.

Not helpful…

Just come over.

She doesn’t get a response, and she assumes that’s the end of it – this is her first bullshit emergency since she decided to move here six months ago, she would like to point out, she has not been difficult for the sake of being difficult – but still she waits. If she’s right about where he’s holed up, and she could well be wrong, it’s maybe ten minutes from her. She can wait ten minutes.

Or, more like twenty before her doorbell rings, but whatever. It’s not like she’s otherwise occupied.

The last time they saw each other was a year ago, shit had hit the fan on a much different scale, a particularly pissed-off German assassin may or may not have been involved, honestly Nile isn’t sure about that element she just remembers it was a big enough disaster to call in all the reinforcements, and… honestly, she’d kinda forgotten that Booker is a different kind of pretty without a mix of blood all over him. This is the first normal interaction they’ve ever had, she’s pretty sure, and it may be a one-and-only but-

“You’re this desperate?” he shrugs in greeting.

“Figure you’re more likely to know damage control on midcentury electric chandeliers than I am,” she counters. She’d like to think of herself as capable and independent, but there are some things that are well outside her range and this is several of them and-

He lets himself into the space, stands under the malfunctioning light fixture long enough to watch it in action, and gives her a certain look. “Outside my range too. I know people, could give you a number…”

“Hang out with me until they show up?”

“Are we allowed to do that?”

“I’m trying not to get electrocuted today,” she points out. “I think I’m allowed to have moral support.”

She’s new at this, she reminds herself as the afternoon devolves into more waiting punctuated with a few phone calls and the most vivid instructions she will ever get on how to swear in French. She is eternally in her mid-twenties, and she misses Chicago, and she’s too cautious to make new connections here just yet so she’s working with what she’s got. And what she’s got, she thinks, is enough.

“It’ll be tomorrow,” he eventually says, and somehow that’s a win. “How long has it been doing that?”

“Three days. One more won’t do any lasting damage to me.”

“Alright. I… it was nice to see you. Until the next emergency?”

“Maybe the next one won’t be quite as much of one?”

“If you could justify it.”

“I could justify a lot.”

#ebf writes fic #book of nile

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suna-reversed · 3 years

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Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie, or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness]

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same.

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin.

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher,

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself,

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him”

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about.

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out.

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string.

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes.

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened.

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face.

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something,

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt.

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance.

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing?

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis.

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting.

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?”

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

- “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”-

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far.

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjkxreader #jujutsukaisenxreader #yujiitadori #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna #sukuna headcanons #jjk headcanons #sukuna smut #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu Kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #sukunafluff

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twiceasfrustrating · 3 years

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I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

#obey me #dark fic #mine #request #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #swd obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #headcanon #obey me headcanons

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laurieelaurel · 2 years

Note

can we also get Satan, Beel, and Diavolo reacting to an ace MC? they’re my faves and my asexual ass craves validation agsjgshs

Brothers + Diavolo reacting to MC being asexual

Warnings: fluff, not edited!!

(Satan, Beel, Dia x gn!ace!reader)

Haha ofc <3 I will pretend like this didn't take over a week to write and I am definitely not neglecting my studies for 2d boys im also gonna have to go over this one later because I am posting this when I am very tiRED

Satan

As someone who doesn't normally go out of his way to initiate a lot of physical contact, he probably wouldn't have normally noticed your aversion to it

Will instead start noticing from observing your interactions with the other brothers - he was wondering if the way you behave around him was the same as around the others (in a not creepy way, just trying to see if you act the same around all of his brothers and it’s not a problem with him specifically)

Satan never really had any need to confront you or even know about your sexual preferences

Even as you get closer and closer, Satan is not the type to start initiating it first

Makes it easier to spend time around him though, so you might be faster to warm up to him

Seeing as you’ve never brought up physical contact or ever initiated yourself, he wants to respect your boundaries and it’s never discussed out loud

When a conversation you’re having with him turns suggestive he might make a comment or joke that makes you uncomfortable and he’ll notice immediately

You tried to laugh it off, you really did. You swear you didn’t even feel your face tense up but of course Satan just had to notice everything. “Mc?” He questioned, his eyes already studying your face as he put away the book he was reading. He didn’t add anything else, leaving your name hanging in the air to sound oddly similar to a one word threat. Your eyes met his, feeling almost guilty for no reason at all - his risqué questions from a few seconds ago really contrasting with the way he spoke now like a mother lecturing a child. You really didn’t know what to say and just sat still as a board as Satan continued cautiously. “Are you alright?”

It takes you a while to evaluate your choices but once you get over your initial hesitation you realize there's nothing to worry about

Satan seems like the ideal person to talk to about your sexuality seeing as he, from what you see, seems disinterested with sex and/or physical contact

You feel comfortable enough to just simply state "Oh, I'm asexual,"

"Makes sense," Satan answers, nodding as the gears start to turn in his head - truthfully, he hadn't considered that an option and is mentally kicking himself for not understanding human reactions better

Not a lot changes tbh, he'll just make sure to steer clear from any sexual jokes when he's teasing you

Satan is a man of restraint - do you think it's easy to keep centuries of wrath at bay under his pleasant smile? He can do without indulging in sex - what purpose does it serve to him?

The only time he'd see worth in it is to find intimacy doing it with a special person - you're his special person now and if you don't want it? then he doesn't care for it either.

Honestly spending quality time with him is enough for him to fall in love with you more and more - if you ever find yourself in his arms, leaning into his touch will make his heart melt and now both of you are mushy piles of fluff

Beel

Beel is like the opposite of Satan when it comes to physical contact

Even when there's no romantic intent with his embraces, he just likes holding you close because he just knows you're there

He's the avatar of gluttony and gluttony doesn't only refer to food - it's an overindulgence and he would just love to indulge in you and your presence

But as such a sweet but not so gentle giant, he doesn't quite know how to control his strength so a quick hug can turn into a death grip if he's not careful

If he were to feel you squirm around, feeling uncomfortable in his grasp, he'll assume it's because of his rough handling

Will let go of you immediately but act a lot more cautiously around you, almost like a kicked puppy

If it happens more than once, it really hurts him </3 - he knows his stature and strength can be intimidating and he's trying his very best but if it's not enough for you to feel safe, he might feel the need to distance himself from you

This'll only hurt the both of you so go and confront it before any more misunderstandings come up

"Beel?" you whisper, tapping his arm gently, "Beel can we talk?" He only let out an unintelligible mumble as he continued to stuff his face with the contents of the fridge. You clear your throat awkwardly as you try again, "Beel...? Can we-" Upon being interrupted a second time, Beel turns around, making eye contact before freezing mid bite. "M..Mc?" he coughed out, putting down a half eaten fried devil chicken, "What are you-" He started before catching himself, "uhm, I mean, what are you doing here?" Waking Lucifer up at 2 am to catch the two of you in the kitchen would not be good. "Looking for you," you reply quietly, crossing your arms over your chest as you take a step closer "But I...I thought you were scared of me-"

Please tell this boy (and explain what asexuality means while you're at it, I doubt these terms are thrown around in the devildom very often)

Will understand once you explain to him and will always prioritize your comfort before his

Still, Beel is a physical guy and that's the way he naturally shows affection so his first instinct when comforting you would be to offer a big hug

Takes some getting used to and he's a bit bummed about not being able to cuddle you

Even something as small as hand holding is enough to make him smile

But make sure to feed him some more compliments (and some food!)

Diavolo

You've become the significant other of the prince of the Devildom - try and tell me you won't become pampered to high heaven (or hell I suppose?)

Showers you in lavish gifts and always has his arm linked around yours - The entirety of the devildom needs to know you're his

Despite his role as ruler of the Devildom, he enjoys acting out on every whim he pleases (much to the chagrin of both Barb and lucifer)

Though it’s exactly because of his role as ruler that he hasn’t quite been able to experience a lot of your traditional affection - not very many can expect to act buddy buddy with the prince of the devildom and not expect to be ripped apart by Lucifer

So expect him to be more than eager to start learning with you

Will most definitely notice the way you cringe away from his touch should his hands ever wander during a boring meeting

Diavolo's hand lowered from your thigh immediately, sending you a brief side glance before finding your hand instead. You felt him squeeze your hand, almost as if trying to reassure you as another one of his advisors stood up to make his report. He turns to give you a smile and you give a small one in return, shifting uncomfortably in your chair as you feel embarrassed for no good reason. Diavolo notices - of course he notices - and calls the meeting to a close right after the other demon's mouth closes and you have a sneaking suspicion that just maybe it has to do with you. "Talk to me my beloved, what's wrong?"

You can tell him anything you want and he'll listen with the same patient smile on his face

He doesn't care for sex, truly he doesn't. You choosing to stay with him is more than he could have ever asked of you already

Despite his constant sidetracking, he's still a very very busy guy - he's glad that you won't be affected by him being too busy or busy for nightly activities

Although, he does have a habit of wrapping his arm snugly around your waist when out or during formal events - just making sure you're as close to him as possible (and to dissuade the many that are probably still skeptical of his relationship with a human)

Diavolo can be possessive but he's not pushy. He's more than happy to change that if you prefer linking arms or holding hands instead but bear in mind you will need to be showing some

Oh and do tell him the names of any and all high ranking demons that have the gall to prod or ridicule you about your sexuality, because let's face it, at least a few of the more older and traditional demons are gonna have a problem with your everything.

And if you're an afab, if anyone else wants to make any passing remarks about you needing to bear his children go ahead and tell Barbatos as well - Upsetting you with such disgusting remarks is more than enough to get rid of an uncouth scoundrel (if you ever question him about his disappearance he'll say he was gonna go anyways )

#asexual #ace pride #obey me #obey me satan #obey me diavolo #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me headcanons

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Could you write 22 “Oh, you’re just grumpy” with Monkie King and a deage MK?

OOOOH coming back to this? Yeah, I am totally up for giving this another go! MK is having a not so great time, nothing warning worthy but I do HC him not being the healthiest kid. Mild spoilers for season 2 episodes 1 and 2.

Oh, you're just grumpy.

"Noooooooo!" MK shouted, stomping his foot on the ground in anger. "I'm not grumpy, I'm mad! You can't let them leave me behind! Take me back! I'm the Monkie Kid! I have to do this myself! I-"

"You are currently physically 4 years old with all the control over your powers of that age," Sun Wukong rebutted with a soft sigh, frowning and wincing at the high pitched angered scream in reaction he received at that. That was... not the best way to go about this... He needed a different tactic.

He knelt down to be at eye level with his now even younger protégé, holding out his hand. When MK stared at it he chanced putting it on his shoulder and continued when MK didn’t shrug it off or start yelling again. “Bud, MK, it’s ok. I know you’re frustrated. You have every right to be! But we just want to make sure you’re safe until we can get you back to normal.”

This was not the kind of trouble the Monkey King expected to happen immediately before... well, put a cork on that for now. But this wasn't the kind of trouble be expected to happen regardless of time frame. How in the world anyone managed to not only curse an object in this way but find a way to slip it on his student was anyone's guess. But the fact of the matter was that MK, the Monkie Kid himself, was now physically 4 years old. Mentally, he was still the same age he was before the curse, personality and memories still completely intact... for the most part, it became clear to them very quickly that being physically a kid again came with more than just a smaller body. It came with the mood swings and heightened emotions of “kid brain” as Mei called it, when MK immediately burst into tears at just the mention of being left behind so Mei and the others could go after the demon. And then he couldn’t figure out why he was crying, whether from frustration or worry or both or why he even started, which lead to more crying out of sheer confusion, which made everyone feel very bad.

They’d managed to calm him down long enough for the Monkey King get him on his cloud and bring him to Flower Fruit Mountain in case the demon attempted to go after him like this, but that was short lived once they actually made landfall.

"But I can do this!" MK continued, pouting and tears of frustration starting to peak at the corners of his eyes once again, albeit calmer frustration. "I-I beat the Spider Queen! I can handle one demon who had to slap a bracelet on me to make me a kid to beat me, even if I'm tiny! I can kick his butt!"

"I know you can, Bud," Wukong said evenly, offering him an understanding smile. "And normally I'd let you go in guns blazing and know you could handle everything no problem now! You've more than proven you can handle stuff even I couldn't. If you were just shrunk I wouldn’t dare think you couldn’t handle this." He reached out a hand, ruffling his hair far more gently that he normally would. But still rough, rough enough to let him know he wasn't going to just treat him like glass now. "But this is a bit different. Remember what I said when Macaque was having you use your full power?” MK scowled for a second before nodding. “Using your powers like this? Could hurt you. And I don’t want to see you get hurt like that. Heck, even I would have trouble controlling my powers and probably get hurt if I was turned into a little kid monkey man, and if this happened to me I would trust you if you told me to stay safe."

"... you would?" MK asked softly, and Wukong nodded. Maybe it was a... bit of a stretch of the truth. Sun Wukong would probably need some convincing too (Great Sage title leading to Great Misjudgement sometimes, the previously mentioned Spider Queen fight a key example), but that's just one more thing he and MK had in common.

"Course I would,” Wukong said, and given said convincing that was the truth. “I trust you, MK, and-AGH!" He may be the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, but nothing prepared him for the barreling rocket that was a 4 year old launching themselves at him to hug him with all the strength of... well, himself!

"I trust you too!" MK yelled right in his ear and oh if he thought his student had a loud yell before. But that only lasted for a second before he pulled back from the hug, body limp and head rested on his shoulder as the energy seemed to sap a bit from him as Wukong stood back up and he held him on his hip instead of setting him down when he saw the bright red rings around his eyes and how tired he seemed already... Tang had mentioned that he knew MK wasn’t exactly the healthiest as a child... "But... I feel bad not doing anything..."

"Then we can do something, that's an easy fix!" Wukong laughed, and his chest warmed as he was reminded of the few children he had helped take care of or play with while on the long journey centuries ago. He was a softie, really. "No training though, I am not going to body slam you when you come up to my knees."

This apparently was the magic joke to make, making MK devolve into a fit of giggles. A testament to how this cursed object affected him, he never would have giggled at that without it. Probably... MK had an odd sense of humor sometimes. But then again, so did he!

"Actually... I think I have just the thing for us to try."

All things considered, Wukong probably should have expected something like this. He did tell MK that he probably didn’t have much control over his powers. And that using his powers was a bad idea. And Tang did warn him he wasn’t a healthy child. The three together were a bad combo when his powers activated with MK’s unconscious reactions to certain things...

“How you feeling, Bud?” Wukong whispered softly, rubbing his back as he laid face down on his couch. He’d barely used his powers at all, just activated his true sight to find ingredients when they were cooking without even thinking about it, but that was enough to make the kid’s head feel like it was splitting open (in symptoms that sounded like a migraine, which... yeah, he felt really bad for him, and the jolt of worry and fear that shot through him surprised him less than he felt it should). “Still bad?”

There were a few of Wukong’s monkeys hanging out on the couch, one in particular was curled up next to MK’s head. Perhaps they were keeping him company while he wasn’t feeling well and nodded off in the process.

“I think I’m ok now,” MK answered, sitting back up and leaning into the Monkey King’s side (he seemed to seek out contact a lot more like this, letting Wukong carry him to the house, leaning on his shoulder when he showed him how to prepare the snacks they were making, now this... it made him wonder just how much physical affection he got as a kid). He looked leagues better than he had just 40 minutes ago, thankfully not nearly as exhausted as he had looked before he laid down. “Headache went away... I dunno, a while ago. But I didn’t wanna get up.”

“Completely understandable,” Wukong nodded in approval, glad that he’d gotten some form of rest. He needed it after everything he had been through. “You feel like getting up now, though? I made us some lunch... dinner... not desert food! Just like I promised.”

“Yeah!” MK exclaimed, immediately jumping off the couch and making his way to the kitchen like a rocket. “How about our snacks, how much longer do they have? Do you think we did ok? Do you think the others are gonna like em!?”

“They still have well over an hour of sitting in the fridge,” Wukong laughed, following him and watching him scramble to sit on one of the chairs at the table. “But I think we did a pretty good job of making annin tofu for the first time. They already look pretty darn delicious.” The almond jelly dish wasn’t as hard as he believed it would be, and using agar even he would be able to enjoy it... once he added some peaches on top, of course! “But that’s for later, for now what do you think of your meal?” MK looked up from his bowl, a spoonful of rice and vegetables already in his mouth. Wukong couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’ll take that as a job well done.”

The two ate their respective lunches, rice and steamed vegetables for MK and rice and fruits for Wukong, talking about what dishes they could try making together in the future. Being a monkey Wukong had a very limited pallet for what he could (and would, given other circumstances) actually eat, so brainstorming workaround for that was a great way to pass the time before moving back to the couch. They played some, shockingly not Sun Wukong related, games that he had stashed away (and he was very offended by MK’s disbelief that he had media not related to himself in his house, totally offended). The game was one of those ones with a motion controller that you had to move around to play, and MK was having a blast with it.

The monkeys also seemed to be enjoying the show quite a lot.

Before the two knew it the sun had begun to set, MK’s grip on his controller starting to weaken as he sat down on the couch and attempted to keep his eyes open. Even with his rest earlier he was exhausted.

“Did anyone... tell you anything yet?” He asked softly, once again leaning into Wukong’s side with a yawn.

“Not yet,” Wukong admitted, looking at MK’s phone for the fourth time in he hour. “Not since they told me they found out where the demon went. But that probably means they’re focused on catching him! They’re gonna get the guy, I have a good feeling about it.”

“If you say so...” MK mumbled out, the controller slipping from his grasp as he closed his eyes.

“UH.. Bud? MK?” Wukong gently nudged his student, smiling softly when he realized that he’d just fallen asleep. “OK, that game clearly did it’s job a little too well.” He made to stand up, stopping short when something tugged on his clothing. MK had an iron grip on him, holding tight to his side and not looking like he was going to be letting go any time soon.

Well... Wukong didn’t have the heart to make him let go or chance waking him up to move him... so instead he took a hair and poofed up a blanket to lay over top of MK as he made himself comfortable on the side of the couch. It didn’t take long, and it took even less time for the monkeys around the house to curl up around and on top of the duo.

It was nice... Wukong didn’t want to admit it, but he was going to miss this. Not just when MK was changed back to his normal age, but when he had to... “go on vacation”.

He felt bad, lying to his student. His kid, now that he realized he couldn’t keep from admitting that to himself. But he trusted MK, genuinely trusted him in this regard, to keep everyone in the city safe while he was gone and he didn’t want the extra stress of knowing just what Wukong was really doing to weigh him down. He knew how much MK worried, seen how much anxiety he had after Macaque and the fight with the Spider Queen, how hard it would be to keep him from following him into places that were too dangerous for him to traverse without training they hadn’t completed yet.

He... really regretted not training him more in the beginning. Regretted it more than most things he had lately. Maybe if he had he could have explained things to him better. Known that if he did sneakily follow him he would at least be in much less danger.

He couldn’t let himself be too close after this. He’d have to go back to normal, aloof, jokey, “ah you’re fine cool beans good luck bud I believe in you!” Monkey King. For MK’s sake.

As he looked down at the sleeping child curled into his side he had to make himself believe it was for MK’s sake.

Why did that feel like it was a lie?

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #deage fic #mk #qi xiaotian #monkey kid #sun wukong #dad wukong #kinda #SPACER TAG FOR HIDING SPOILERS ALL LOVE TO THE SPACER TAG #oops I made it SAD #are you even surprised?#someone is in denial about the possible consequences of their actions #WUKONG MAKE BETTER CHOICES THIS IS NOT THE WAY TO DO THIS #prompt fill

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

Text

Gorgeous (pt2 of This Love)

Bucky x Elemental Witch Reader x platonic Steve

Setting is during Civil War

Read the prologue here to know about your character’s story.

--------

Midgardians were indeed strange. Natasha and the rest of the team did their best in making sure you would settle well with them, and so far, you were getting the hang of it. They were always amused watching you and Vision try to act what they call “normal.”

Along with being introduced to everything was also knowing about your personal preferences. You love reading almost all kinds of books, and you found horror movies funny, especially the ones about possessions. You could almost hear the Norns that raised you snort at them. You also love exploring the numerous genres of music they have.

Steve and you have become quite close, and his favorite pastime were telling you about his life before becoming the Captain America. His stories about a best friend he calls “Bucky” was your favorite. The man you’ve never met reminds you of your favorite men in the romance novels you’ve read – charming, handsome (you assumed), and he sounded kind. You were surprised when Steve told you about finding out that he was alive all this time after being brainwashed by Hydra. The captain still looks like he’s longing to get his friend back.

Despite being over a century year old, the team treated you like a younger sister because of your naivety. Sam was like the bad influence brother - always teaching you about pranks. Overall, you were settling just fine in the lifestyle you were only introduced into over a year ago.

The Norns have taught you that challenges and doom were always going to be lurking at every corner. Tony and Steve were currently in disagreement. World leaders were trying to get the team controlled and regulated. An explosion rocked in Vienna during a meeting, and some people are killed among them is the King of a place called Wakanda. Now the authorities were claiming the bomb was planted by the Winter Soldier – the man Steve has told you so much about.

Now the team was divided, and you didn’t know where to place yourself. Your family was falling apart. You still weren’t considered a Midgardian and could easily leave Earth. You thought about reaching out to Thor, but how could you, when the same man who told you to reach him through e-mail, didn’t even have a phone? And Bruce himself was still nowhere to be found.

Cap has assembled a team with Sam, Clint, Wanda, and an Ant guy you were yet to meet, to stop another man named Zemo. But by operating outside of authority, they all become renegades. You almost laughed when you heard that in Tony’s side was a Spider guy.

Everyone was currently at an airport in Stuttgart, Germany. You were sitting on the roof of one of those ramps, looking over the team as Tony was still trying to negotiate with Steve. You noted the man with the metal arm standing next to him. So this must be Bucky. He was much more handsome as you imagined him to be – tall, piercing blue eyes and dark long hair. The girls you’ve met around the city would’ve gushed over him, joking about what they’d like to do with him. And you almost kicked yourself for agreeing with a conversation that hasn't even happen yet.

“You sure you want no part of this, princess?!” Tony called out to you, making everybody’s attention turn your way.

“Frankly I could’ve left, Tony.” You stated, looking over everyone, trying to take in that this may be the last time your family would be in the same room. “But I learned that Midgardians love blowing off steam. I’m just here to make sure nobody gets seriously injured.”

“She’s not human?” you heard Steve’s friend ask him quietly. You heard him respond that it’s a long story. You shot the man a quick wink and a grin, making him cough in surprise.

So what if you might have a little crush on the man? Technically, witches your age are still considered mentally young – almost comparable to a Midgardian in her 20s.

A pitched battle breaks out, and as intended, you were going around making sure that nobody got gravely hurt.

You were now running alongside Nat.

“Is it weird that I may have a little crush on Steve’s friend?” you chimed.

“No surprise there. Is that why you refused to take sides?” She asked you, panting.

“Of course not, Nat. Plus you and Wanda are in different teams.”

“And?”

“We women should be sticking together. Leave the men acting childish.” you replied.

“Where’d you learn that?!” She was amused.

“I hang out with drunk women in club bathrooms!” you exclaimed.

You honestly thought Nat was intent on stopping Steve, but she took you all by surprise when she suddenly turns on Black Panther, allowing Cap and Bucky time to get in the Quinjet.

“You’re not even gonna introduce me?” you called him out.

“Not really the best time but Y/N, Bucky. Bucky, Y/N.” He hastily answered while getting in.

You and Bucky were staring at each other. He couldn’t quite decide whether to say to you. It was the first time a stranger was looking at him with glimmer in their eyes, as if she was genuinely glad to be introduced. And it was not the appropriate time.

“I find you incredibly attractive.” You found yourself blurting out while gazing at him. You heard Nat snort behind you, and you almost laughed at how taken back Bucky looked.

“Uh... I’m too old for you.” He awkwardly replied, and you chuckled.

You were about to tell him that you’re older than he’ll ever be, but a groan from T’Challa snapped you all back.

“Alright, time to go. Nice first date, kids.” Steve called out from the pilot.

“I’ll see you again, soldier.” You gave him a genuine smile. He scratched the back of his neck and gave you a shy nod before turning back to take his seat.

“You should ask those girl friends of yours to teach Steve a thing or two with flirting.” Nat commented, giving you a sly smile.

“Shut up, Nat. I wasn’t flirting.”

--------

It was no surprise when Steve sought you out to help him break the others from prison. The authorities didn’t know what to do with you, and you think it was because you never really broke any rules, you’re not from here, and they might be afraid of angering the god of thunder himself if they even touched you. So without thinking twice, you joined him.

“So...” you thought about asking him what happened to Bucky.

“Can’t say I’m surprised that even a witch would be crushing on my best friend.” He chuckled. He was now flying you in the Quinjet to god knows where.

“I blame you, Steve. You kept talking about him.” You punched his arm gently.

“If it helps, I think he finds you beautiful.”

But before you could respond, your mouth went agape as the view of the forest around you suddenly became a whole other place full of beautiful infrastructures you’ve never seen before.

“Welcome to Wakanda, Y/N.” Steve told you when he noticed you’ve gone quiet.

--------

Steve and you were welcomed by T’Challa and the princess named Shuri, and they escorted you both to what seemed to be a lab. Shuri was funny and you both hit it off immediately.

Stopping just outside a bar, Shuri turned to you. “I’m hoping to see more of you, Y/N. Your boyfriend awaits you.” She snickered and left before you could say anything. Steve gave you a sheepish look and told you that when they were asking who he was bringing in for security purposes, he might have told them that you have a crush on their patient.

Going in, you decided to stop by the doorway to assess everything.

“You sure about this?” You heard Steve asked someone, making you snap at their direction.

Sitting on a small bed was Bucky. His metal arm was gone, and he was wearing a white top and pants.

“I can’t trust my own mind.” he replied, and turned to where you were standing, giving you a polite smile. “So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back on there is the best thing for everybody.”

Steve nodded in understanding, and turned to you. “Are you just gonna stand there?” He asked you with a teasing smile.

“That depends if you only brought me here so you could properly embarrass me.” You replied, biting your cheek from smiling. He started walking back towards you with a small smile. Standing face to face, he started speaking a bit more quietly.

“Well, yes.” He answered and you shook your head at him, chuckling. “But I also wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything, Steve.” you nodded at him.

“Will... Will you uh- come back here if Shuri calls you that they’re finally waking him up? I’m just going to lay low for a bit, and I don’t know if I’d be still on the run when that happens.” he looked almost embarrassed to even ask you the favor, but before he could start rambling, you surprised him with a hug.

“You’ve taught me so much, Steve. Of course, I’ll look after your hot friend.” you chuckled to mask that your eyes were brimming with tears. You were going to miss him.

Breaking off from the embrace, Steve cupped your face and wiped a stray tear on your cheek. “Don’t scare him off, okay. I don’t think he’d be able to handle how much bolder women are these days.” you rolled your eyes at him but proceeded to give him a small nod.

---------

The lab was now preparing to put Bucky into a cryogenic sleep. When Steve left that morning, all he told him was that he was going to meet with a friend who might want to check out Wakanda. He didn’t expect that Steve meant you.

When he first saw you at the airport, he was taken back to how beautiful you were. He’s seen attractive people around when he was trying to live like a civilian, but there was just something refreshing about you. As soon as it was implied that you weren’t actually from earth and that you were a witch, he settled with that explanation. Maybe being beautiful came with your power.

But then you unexpectedly winked at him and even said you find him attractive so unapologetically. He tried to be sly about asking Steve about you but it was obvious that he caught on and was beaming at him like crazy. He told him about you, how you were raised by Norns, that Thor took back with him to earth, and that you’ve spent the year knowing how to be like the humans.

“She’s adapted to the world today better than I have, Buck.” Steve smiled at the thought of you. “I think she’d be the perfect teacher for you in the future.”

He was watching as Steve talked to you by the doorway and when you hugged him and started crying. After Steve comforted you, you turned to look at him again, now a cheeky smile was on your face as you walked towards him.

“I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Y/N.” You offered your hand for him to take.

“I’m James. Or you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.” Your hand was soft and warm against his.

Steve heard what Bucky told you and flushed pink when he had an inkling to what you were going to respond to that. He could almost see you smirking.

“How about da-”

“Y/N NO.” Steve cut you off, fighting laugh. Bucky looked between the two of you, confused and intrigued at the same time.

“Steve, I called you that one time.”

“Those civilian friends of yours really should have more manners.” He shook his head at the memory of you calling him ‘daddy’ one morning after your friends told you to do so.

Turning back to the confused man before you, you gave him a full-blown smile. “I’ll call you by your name, Bucky.”

“Are you going with Steve?” He asked you.

“Nope. I still might be here once you wake up.”

----------

Main Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

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obae-me · 4 years

Note

Hi sweetheart! I was wondering if I could request for a headcannon about Solomon casting a spell and suddenly all the brothers turn into lil smol kids? and how would MC take care of/interact with them? I just neeeeeed some fluff in my life, and the idea of tiny demons makes my heart explode. hope you have a great week! ♥️

Hi, thank you for this request, I had to write it immediately. The fluff, the softness, it’s exactly what I needed to write today, I hope this is good fluff for you! 💜

There’s a bit of exposition because I had some strong creativity for it, after it is the Headcanons!

“So what exactly is this supposed to do again?” MC asked, watching as Solomon sprinkled some strange herbs and unknown ingredients into a large glass beaker, occasionally muttering a few words and casting spells while the mixture sparkled. They were both in MC’s room, Solomon teaching them some spells and magic in exchange for some quality time together.

“It’s a youth potion,” Solomon explained. “I used to make it for other humans. The elderly used my diluted versions to help with pain or memory. However…” He dumped an entire jar of some sort of sickly pulsating liquid that had the same rainbowy shimmer that spilled oil had. “Demons don’t typically age the same way humans do, so sometimes they ask me for this so they can blend in with children. However, diluted versions won’t affect anything down here. So be careful. One wrong drop on you and it won’t be pleasant.” He watched as the contents in the container started to condense and squeeze through a tube before landing in a little glass bottle. Solomon tightly shoved a cork into it’s opening and then closed his eyes, chanting a spell. What had been a gross metallic color was now a perfect clear concoction, little sparkling bubbles endlessly fizzing throughout. “And there you have it.” He smirked, flipping the bottle in the air before catching it perfectly, putting it in one of his pants pockets. With a wave of his hand, all of his stuff that he had used to make the potion vanished.

MC shook their head. “This wasn’t exactly what I thought we would be doing when you said you were going to come over and show me magic. I’d lie if I said it wasn’t cool, though.” They went over and opened their bedroom door, Solomon following them out into the hallway. “Can I come deliver it with you?”

“You know how dangerous my drop-offs can be, can you show me that you’ve perfected that defensive spell I taught you last week?” Solomon looked down at them with a smile, hand curled around his chin. MC sighed, they weren’t even nearly close to casting that spell well, much less perfectly. Solomon apologized with a laugh as they both headed down the stairs to the front entrance.

“Oi, you done fooling around with MC yet?” They both saw Mammon leaned against the wall as he watched the stairs, a scowl on his face. Ever since the sorcerer had been coming more often to see MC, Mammon had been much more hostile towards him. Solomon didn’t mind, in fact he got a rise out of seeing Mammon get so jealous.

“Yes, Mammon, I’m just about to leave.”

Mammon grinned and swung the doors wide open, gesturing for Solomon to get out. “Great, here’s the door, bye now!”

Solomon looked at MC with a smile, bringing them close into a hug, squinting at Mammon over their shoulder as he soaked in the look Mammon had on his face. He pulled apart and MC was none the wiser on their interaction behind their back. “Wish me luck with the drop-off.”

MC exclaimed to him how they wished him all the luck in the three realms, and Mammon moved out of his way to personally bump shoulders with Solomon as he made his way out the door. Neither of the humans had noticed Mammon’s pickpocketing skills as he slipped an important small bottle into his own pocket.

***

“Is there any particular reason why you’re not eating?” Lucifer questioned, watching MC play with their food instead of eating it.

MC snapped out of a little daze, bringing a halt to shoving around their meal with their fork. “Ah, oh, I guess I’m just thinking about something.”

Mammon growled. “What you don’t want to taste the food I slaved over making for everyone today?” He opened his mouth, probably to say something snarky about Solomon, but Satan interrupted him.

“Speaking of what you made, what did you put in it? It’s making me awfully nostalgic. I can’t help but think of meals from centuries ago.” He said it with a slight smile on his face. All of the brothers minus Lucifer voiced their agreement. Whatever it was, it brought back sweet memories, some of them going back and forth between stories of what being first created was like. MC leaned back in their chair, trying to comprehend what it would be like to just...exist fully without having to go through childhood.

Mammon grinned, one hand on his hips. “See I knew it would be great, and it’s all thanks to my genius.” He pulled something out of his pocket, holding it between his fingers as he waved it around in the air. “I knew whatever that sketchy sorcerer had on him had to be good.” MC’s body froze, eyes focused on the bottle Mammon possessed, the same size and style of the one Solomon had put in his pocket. The only difference was the contents were missing.

MC opened their mouth, ready to demand that everyone stop eating, but unfortunately it was already too late. The only thing Mammon had done perfectly was time his reveal right before the potion went into effect, all the brothers bowling over and collapsing to the ground. Their clothes and bodies magically shifting into miniature versions of themselves.

Lucifer

He was the first to get up, taking in the now larger scale of everything around him. Noticing especially how MC was on their knees beside him and yet was at the same height level. He felt the lungs in his chest tighten, now looking at his younger brothers, who...were now all exceptionally young. All looking like humans did at around the age of five. He screamed Mammon’s name, but cut himself off short when he heard what his voice sounded like now, his small hands cupping his own throat. He looked at MC once more, seeing the reflection of his child-like body in their eyes. His pride might as well have been shattered on the ground. Before he was seen in this embarrassing state any further, he sped off to his room.

He did his best to prevent MC from following him into his bedroom by leaning into the door with his own body. He was even more crushed to find not only did he not have most of his power, but he was extremely weak and vulnerable. Not to mention he was feeling raw emotions. He would control himself, he had to control himself. When MC came into the room they saw him standing there with his best attempt at a death glare, arms folded across his tiny red vest.

It didn’t do nearly what he wanted it to. MC saw the small Lucifer, his usually sharp-edged face now covered in soft curves, his piercing eyes now hidden behind floppy hair too big for his head. He didn’t even seem to realise his lips were in a strong pout. MC almost felt like crying looking at him, and they stifled a laugh.

Being laughed at was the final cut at his pride already barely hanging on by a flimsy string. This form he had now was unable to control emotions like his typical body could. Big tears started rolling down his face as he ran towards MC, his only thought being comfort.

“Don’t laugh at me! Change me back!” He wailed. MC scooped him up in their arms, apologizing deeply about laughing. They pet his small head, feeling two nubs poking out from under his hair where he usually had his horns when he was in demon form. Once he let all of his emotions out, he dried his own eyes and calmed down.

His new state didn’t keep him from being any less bossy, standing there, barely up to MC’s waist, head held high as he continued to try to tell MC and his brothers what to do. He didn’t like having MC be the head of the house, at all, even though they now had to take care of all of them. If MC has to tell him to stop hitting Mammon or go to bed, he’ll usually throw a tantrum. He will not be told what to do, he’s not a child, he’s not! MC takes this time to give the Prideful First-born Demon a scolding, and after the first few times he’s forced to sit in timeout, he begrudgingly obeys MC for the rest of the curse.

He’ll do his best as the older brother to help MC take care of everyone, but he’ll end up being one of the most needy. He’ll follow MC around, copying them, doing exactly what they’re doing. If MC tells one of the brothers to do something, he’ll repeat them, doing the same gesture in order to regain a more authoritative status. He likes to also stand on tables and chairs, he needs to be above everyone.

Until he’s back to normal, MC puts him to bed at the same time every night, helping him change into smaller versions of his PJ's (delivered thanks to Diavolo). The only way he can fall asleep is if MC sings old lullabies he hasn’t heard in millennia.

Mammon

When he woke up, he didn’t really comprehend the new change in his form. He was blind to the fact that he had accidentally turned himself and his brothers into children. He still wasn’t done feeling angry about Solomon, being greedy over who MC spends their time with. When he saw MC, he strutted up to them, not understanding that MC now towered over him. He put his hands on his hips, chewing MC out for hanging out with the sorcerer. His filter in his childish state was even worse, almost nonexistent, and he called Solomon by words that should not be coming out of any tiny mouth.

“Mammon!”

Hearing that almost degrading stern tone coming from MC made him stop in his tracks. He tilted his head back to look up at them. Since when did he have to look up that much? Since when had the furniture in his home been so big? He looked around at the other little chaotic bodies in the room, finally connecting that the little tykes were his brothers. He grabbed the bottom of MC’s shirt.

“What did Solomon do to us?!”

“Solomon didn’t do anything, did you steal his potion?” MC had their arms folded like a much too familiar older brother of his, looking at him with a frown. They sounded...disappointed. He started to blink away moisture he didn’t comprehend was tears. MC had to repeat themselves. “Mammon, did you steal from Solomon, yes or no?” He stuttered out a quiet yes, looking down at the floor.

MC rubbed the sides of his little arms and turned him around to look at the rest of his siblings who seemed to be waiting. Most of them looked angry, ready to beat Mammon down with their tiny fists, but MC ordered them all to stay there and listen. If it weren’t for the fact that somehow now MC seemed much scarier, they wouldn't be obedient. MC told Mammon to apologize to them since he got them all in this predicament in the first place. He stood there for a long time, doing his best to bribe his way out of the situation, but MC wouldn’t budge. When he finally said his sorries, he did so with a waterfall of tears, turning and crying into MC’s leg, explaining that he only did this because he didn’t want Solomon to steal MC away anymore.

During the time they’re all affected, MC realizes exactly why Lucifer is always so hard on Mammon. He just never stops. He’s a ball of energy, always getting into something, always leaving a mess wherever he goes. MC has their hands full just keeping up with him.

He never wants to share toys with his brothers, and MC oftentimes has to get everyone something of their own so Mammon doesn’t steal. He also somehow got into MCs phone and used their information to buy several things off of Akuzon. MC punished him by locking away all his toys. It didn’t last long, however, because Mammon kept whimpering, fluttering his long eyelashes over his big shimmering gold-speckled eyes. He’d endlessly call MC’s name over and over again, cuddling into them and begging for his stuff back. Just his soft adorable face alone could get MC to give him anything he wanted.

Mammon is always with MC, and he’ll get angry over anyone who wants to play with them. He wanted them! He did! The only reason why this happened was because he wanted to be with them. So he didn’t want anyone else around.

MC puts him to sleep by rubbing his back over his little fragile wings and sings sleepy songs about the stuff they’ll buy for him.

Levi

He was absolutely mortified. It took him awhile just to get to his feet, he was shaking so badly with embarrassment. As if he wasn’t already self conscious enough, now he was...he was. He snuck away and hid while MC was distracted with his six other insane brothers. He didn’t want to be like that, he didn’t want to be a bother. He didn’t want to be a needy child! And yet he could feel his tiny body filled with Envy. The way MC was holding, coddling, and taking care of everyone else, why weren’t they doing that for him?

When MC went looking for him, they followed the sound of small sniffles. It wouldn’t have been hard to find him anyway, since his big hiding place was in the comfort of his room. He was huddled under his gaming desk, clutching a Ruri-chan plushie to his cheek, speckled in his tears. When MC called his name he scattered to another corner of his room, pulling his tiny hood over his tiny face. He wanted to get into his tub-bed, but he couldn’t even pull himself in.

“Levi, do you want to tell me why you’re upset?”

He shook his head vigorously, managing to make himself seem so small he was hidden behind the plushie he was gripping. He didn’t seem to want to speak so MC had to play the guessing game. He wasn’t upset over Mammon, he wasn’t upset at anyone else, and then when MC asked if he was upset about himself, he got real quiet. MC consoled him by telling him this was a temporary setback, something akin to the shows he watches. It was just a filler episode, not a major plot point, so he had nothing to worry about. Normally this would’ve helped cheer him up just fine, but it wasn’t enough, so MC had to bribe him out of hiding by telling him they would watch all the shows he wanted until he was better.

When he came out, he rushed to them, burying his face in their clothes and cried so hard he gave himself the hiccups. MC was confused, thinking that they were trying their best to convince him to feel better, not to sob. MC did their best to make him feel better, rocking back and forth with him in their arms, rubbing his back, even turning on his consoles so he could play. He only felt satisfied when he thought he was getting the same amount of attention his brothers were getting.

He’s the biggest crybaby and the epitome of the “it’s not fair” child. If Mammon has more toys than him, he’s going to cry. If MC tells him he has to go to his room, he’s going to cry. If Beel ends up eating some of his food, yep, he’s going to cry. MC has a panic attack over how dehydrated this kid is going to be and has to constantly give him water to drink.

The only time he’s relatively happy is when MC has him in their lap as they hang out in his room, playing a game or watching a show. The best way to get him to sleep is to put on a documentary. Puts him out like a light.

Satan

When he woke up, it was like all hell had broken loose, and that could mean either figuratively or literally at this point. He was a tiny ball of rage. No later than five seconds of consciousness before he was on top of Mammon ready to kill him for turning them all to kids. He was definitely that kid who solved problems with fights. MC had to quickly rush over and pick him up only to have Satan kicking, punching, and screaming. He flailed in their arms, and MC had to drag him into a private room to quickly get things straight.

“I know this is inconvenient, and I know you’re angry, but no kicking, no punching, I don’t want to see you lay a hand on anyone, understand?”

He did understand, logically, but no matter what he tried telling his brain, his body didn’t want to follow. Even as his normal self it was hard keeping all that anger under control, and now as this...this...thing he was, all he wanted to do was scream. So scream he did, he shrieked for hours, MC doing their best to keep him safe as he tore up and almost destroyed his own room. He yelled so loudly for so long he lost his voice, resorting then to something he didn’t know was an option. Angry tears.

He took the bottom of his small green shirt and balled it up in his hands, looking confused as wet drops fell from his face. His voice now gone, all that was left was squeaks as his tiny frame started to shudder. He let MC hold him tight as he cried, scrunching up the fabric of their clothes tightly as all the pent up emotion he usually kept inside him had no choice but to keep flooding out of his eyes. MC shushed him, trying to tell him that this was an experience that would benefit his education and curiosity.

It took him a long long time to calm down, but when he did, his demeanor was similar to the one MC was most used to, the quiet curious Satan. Occasionally MC did have to keep him from losing his temper, doing their best to not have to scream at the small demon for having knives or breaking things. But most of the time he read books, books that were too big for his now smaller hands to hold. He either had the book wide open in his lap, or he had MC hold it for him as he sat in their lap. MC adored how he would tilt his head back against their chest, looking at them while politely asking them to turn the page. On the rare occasion, sometimes MC would find Satan outside, using a stick to pick at bugs in the dirt, watching how they move. They would’ve almost found it cute till they realized he was using them to fight to the death. MC monitors him anytime he’s outside now.

He’s the hardest to get to sleep, he’s always asking MC endless questions. MC is never sure if he’s testing their knowledge or asking them in earnest. Either way, it’s always way too late in the night for wondering what the world would be like if giraffes were as popular as a common household cat. He always needs a warm hot chocolate, a boring book, and MC’s angelic patience before he’ll finally drift to sleep.

Asmo

When he regains consciousness and looks at himself in the mirror after the event, he cannot get over how adorable he is. He looks so squeezable and huggable. But then...he feels...hollow? While all the other sins are things that are easily available as kids, his...is gone. He’s missing those...adult urges he’s so used to feeling. His normal burning desire, his flirtation, his charm, all vanished along with his adult appearance. He almost takes this harder than Lucifer. He’s not sure how to act, how to feel, his whole life in the Devildom was driven around his core sin.

MC is infinitely concerned when Asmo doesn’t smile, doesn’t speak, doesn’t know how to, well, how to do anything. They do their best to cheer him up with the other things he loves. They dress him up in adorable clothes, they pet his head and tell him how cute he is, but this is enormously hard for him. The typically boisterous Asmo was now nonchalant.

It takes a while for MC to convince him that he is Asmo, he is not his sin. He might be more easily persuaded by it, but that’s not all there is to him. They hold his whole tiny face in their hands, thumbs rubbing his wet cheeks dry. They tell him they miss his bubbly nature, his cute voice, his endless compliments, his sweet disposition. They want Asmo back. This little speech with added cuddles brings Asmo back for the most part.

He’s the sweetest little kid MC has ever met. He’s always cheering his brothers up, pulling off doll fashion shows, and making sure MC feels appreciated. He wants to be in their arms almost 24/7, wanting to be carted around if MC can manage. This whole experience causes him to feel something in his chest that makes him feel a kind of warm and fuzzy that he’s never felt before. It’s not lust...but something sweeter, more innocent and he’s not sure what to call it.

MC almost was going to reward him for being the best kid in the household till they spent hours helping him get clean after he did his best to do a spectacular makeover. He was unaware of how hard it was to maneuver these bodies, and now his face and room was a mess. MC was just thankful that the mess was on him and he didn’t attempt to give MC the makeover.

Asmo will only sleep with MC holding him. Something about the cold darkness of his room when he’s alone makes him panic. He likes being able to feel comforted, hearing MC’s heartbeat while they work on smothering him in adorable chaste kisses, his little giggles adorably addicting. That same warm feeling in his heart letting him feel comfortable enough to shut his eyes and get some rest.

Beel

He woke up holding onto Belphie’s hand only to find that the hand he was holding was much smaller than he remembered. Upon further discovery, all of Belphie was much smaller than he remembered. It takes him a few minutes to connect the dots since he was getting distracted on the food still on the dinner table, but once he figures it out, he just blinks. He’s the only one fairly calm about it. Sure he’s upset, but he likes to be an optimist, and by being this small, all his portions of food are all that much bigger.

His size does end up being an inconvenience for him, though. Most of his favorite snacks are high on the shelves in hard to reach cupboards. Not to mention now MC refuses to let him near the stove, so he can’t cook himself anything. He eats more than any human child should and yet he feels like he’s starving.

He can’t help but run to MC and softly beg for more snacks, gently tugging on their clothes. Most of the time, MC obliges, petting his soft red hair while he eats his food and lets his legs dangle off the edge of his seat. Until he starts letting his gluttony take over and steals his sibling’s snacks.

MC tried punishing him by taking away dessert privileges that night, not knowing what kind of monster they unleashed when they told him no. His shining eyes went darker, and the best mannered kid MC knew went sour in a heartbeat. He threw a massive demonic tantrum, screaming, throwing food and plates, causing MC to break down and give him what he wanted, drying his tears with an exasperated sigh while they now had to clean up broken glass and wipe down the entire kitchen.

He was the easiest to take care of in every other aspect, though, as long as he wasn’t denied food. He’d help MC and Lucifer watch his brothers, breaking up fights and comforting them when they cry. He would squeeze each of them tightly, as supportive as ever. He would even still do his best to protect MC in his state. Even as tiny as he was he still put his whole body into his hugs, acting like MC wasn’t now twice the size he was. He would clean up his messes without MC having to ask, and he’d go to bed as long as he had a bedtime snack and a glass of warm milk. He’d insist on tucking Belphie into bed, and then sweetly wish MC goodnight.

Belphie

He took forever to wake up, almost giving MC a heart attack wondering if he had been put into some sort of infantile coma. He eventually got up, opening his eyes to himself in MC’s arms. He wasn’t going to complain, they were very comfortable. When he realized he now resembled a small child...he was too tired to complain. He never did anything different from his normal form anyway. Sleep, eat if he needed to, be highly slothful and irritated. He was so similar to his usual mood, it amused MC greatly. They didn’t want to say that this meant he was always a baby but...the facts were right in front of them.

Adult, child, it didn’t matter, he was going to be monotone, demanding, and sleep as much as possible. In fact, now that he didn’t have responsibilities and Lucifer breathing down his neck, he was sleeping more than usual, and he demanded that MC carry him. If he was awake and MC ever put him down, he would cry until he got picked back up, comfortably against MC’s hip, face nestled in MC’s neck. It makes it so much harder for MC to get stuff done, but they can’t give up the feeling of his little eyelashes and bangs brushing against their skin, the smallest hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth. Plus, if they do anything he doesn’t like, he’ll pull on their hair, so it's best to keep him happy.

The first night they had changed, MC put Belphie in his own bed, tucked him in and wished him sweet dreams, and once they were sure all the brothers were asleep, they went to their room and went to bed for the night, absolutely exhausted. Not even an hour after they went to bed, they felt a large weight on their body. They opened their eyes and saw Belphie, his skin shining in the moonlight from tears.

“Bad dream?”

He nodded, making a small sniffling noise. MC lifted up the blankets, letting him crawl in. He got close to them, keeping the fabric of their pajamas in a death grip. MC put their arm around him, making him feel safe and sleepy. He dried his tears and shut his eyes, not having any nightmares during the night.

Only, now, he won’t go to sleep in his own bed, it has to be with MC. Of course, this makes all the brothers jealous, and so after one night of some semblance of peace is resulted in seven little demon brothers all bundled up close together, each needy for MC’s warmth and attention.

After

It was an entire week before Solomon came back with the completed antidote for the potion. It tasted disgusting, and MC and Solomon had to wrangle all the demons, holding them down to get them to take it. It was surprising after all their frustration towards their position that they would be hesitant to return to normal.

After they’re back in their normal bodies, each of them are as red as tomatoes, looking at the floor instead of MC’s face. None of them will mention what happened, even if MC tries to tease them about it, they act like they have amnesia. None of them remember all the photos that MC had taken of them, nor do they know about all the ones they’ve shared to Diavolo.

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

1K notes · View notes

divinefireangel · 3 years

Note

au: vampire Hwiyoung x human reader, lovers?

Finally doing this.... ✧⁺⸜(●˙▾˙●)⸝⁺✧ʸᵃʸ

Ok tbh I think I went wayyy to overboard with it but I love vampires and SF9 so eh. Also I have no clue what's going on in here 💀💀💀💀💀. Sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted op 🥺. I tried *pouts*.

Warnings: Fluff mostly. Vampirey stuff. Sex stuff 👀. Blood drinking. Angst? Death. Sickness. Puking. Like 2 lines. Ahh very long 😂. Should've probably written it as a fic but oh well 🤷🏾‍♀️. I think this also is kind if like a soulmate au. Lmk if I need to add more.

So cocky.

That's all I'm seeing 😂

He's the kind to have any human or vamp do anything for him, with him, etc, etc.

A fairly famous vampire, amongst all of the ones who exist

Loves travelling the world

Meeting new people

Trying new things like food, kinks, new blood types too.

Lives for the thrill of almost getting caught

Flashes his red eyes when he wants to peak someone's curiosity in him

He's all mysterious and that's just so infuriating to not want to get to know him

But he doesn't let anyone get close

He knows it's not right to turn someone into a vampire

He'd never do that

Also he took a vow with his first and last love, to be each other's only forever

But alas, first loves never last

And neither did his

The vow however, lasted longer than the life of his first love

It was to never fall in love with a human again

For he was the one who had completely drained his first love, of their blood, to complete his transition

The realization of what he'd done hit him too late

So the vow was kind of an untold tension hanging in the air, that just grew with every passing second as Hwiyoung drained his lover's blood

He masks his sorrow, with cockiness

But all of his resolve wavered when he saw you

Just laughing, minding your own business

Talking with your friends in the cafe

Your hair flowing with the wind

Laugh echoing it's way to his heart

For once, in his long long life, he didn't just want someone, he longed for them.

After centuries of sad loneliness, he saw you

He heard your heart beat steadily as you spoke with much enthusiasm

Intriguing everyone around you

Not that you noticed

He felt like shedding a tear, his heart hurting the longer he looked at you

But he just couldn't look away from your sweet smile & bright eyes

The next few days pass by him looking at you from afar

Now you weren't one to not notice and do nothing if some random creep followed you everyday

So naturally you confront him by cornering him

He honestly didn't think you had it in you to trap him

Something about being so close to you, even when you are interrogating him just makes him want you to be his even more

That's when he sees you, like actually sees you

Your angry yet curious eyes, the lovely tint on your parted lips, your tongue in between your teeth, and so much more

Never thought this would happen, but he's speechless

So bound by your beauty he isn't even able to defend himself and his actions

When you're about to leave, he grabs your elbow and exchanges your positions

Cornering you and towering you as he introduces himself

The way he is so close to makes you breath hitch and heart beat faster, blood pulsing through you at a greater speed

He knows he's peaked your interest in him

He knows that you're conflicted

He knows that he will be too, sooner than expected

He will try not to showcase his vampire abilities

But how long can he go for you know?

What will happen when he gets a scratch and it heals soon? You'll think it's a little suspicious

What will happen if you get hurt and bleed? Will he be able to just tend to your wound without letting his strength get in the way?

So many questions

So many doubts

But they fade to nothing, when he looks at you

When he looks at you, he sees the most perfect human

Compassionate, caring, kind, sweet, absolutely adorable

He almost feels human too, when he's around you

And just to feel normal again, he starts to spend all his time around you

Roaming with you, circling around you like a buzzed bee does with a flower

And that's when you start your courtship

With him doing so many things with you

Helping you with your work/studies

Taking you on multiple dates

So many getaways

Getting you so much jewelry

Matching Jewelry!!!! 🥺

Falling in love with you

Regular movie nights in

Falling in love

Moving into an apartment together

Falling in love

Doing all your domestic things like cooking, laundry, grocery shopping, getting a goddamn job, and what not

Falling in love

Discussions about adopting a pet together

Oh and falling in love.

Yup.

You have a totally lovesick vampire head over heels completely in love with you with his cold dead heart

When the realization that he hath fallen hits him, he couldn't help but cry

Because he knows that you love him too

He knows that you'd want him to propose to you soon

He knows that eventually you're gonna wanna start a family with him

Even if you don't, which is okay, he knows that you are gonna die in a few decades

What will he do when he can't avoid the inevitable question you'll ask him about not aging

About not getting sick like ever

About having so much money

About having so much knowledge and minute details about historical events which just slip out his mouth from time to time

But

What he doesn't know is that you were already suspecting something was up

You don't know when you started to notice the subtle things he did, things that no one in your time does

The way he talks so casually with everyone

His peculiar usage of words at times

How he doesn't have a single wrinkle on his surely flawless face

How he never grows a grey hair

How his skin is so pale and cold to touch

But his tongue is always so pink

How his eyes look a different colours at random moments

Your first instinct, was of course, you were being delusional.

But then you thought about your life since you met him

How everything was going so good, too good for a human and human relationship

Pain.

That's what you felt when you started to see everything

And not just emotional pain, physical too

You could feel your heart breaking

You didn't know why

Was it because you've given your heart to someone you don't even know what species is?

Or because you've wasted the best time of your life on someone who won't be with you till the end?

You're not stupid, of course you confront him

Even if it meant you'd go from being someone he loves to someone he might hate

When the question flies out of your mouth

He just looks at you with pity

Was it for you or him, he doesn't know

Swallowing, his Adam's Apple bobs in his throat

He'll gently grasp you hands

Making you sit on a chair and he'd come clean

Yes

That simple

Because he can erase your memory if you threaten him 💀

He, for the first time, has no clue how you'd react

Chewing on your finger you look at him

Saying okay

Cause you love him

And him being a vampire doesn't change the fact that he is a good person

Well was or whatever, it's complicated

He just falls on the ground

Crying and thanking you 🥺

Hugging him you realize that you're crying too

The next day is like you're both reborn

Nothing actually changed much lol

He quits his job and you quit yours

And you both just travel the world

Go to different places, new places

Find secluded spaces to fuck, just for the adrenaline

Oh yes sex with vamp Hwiyoung!!!

Uses his strength to mark you.

Uses his powers to multiply the feeling of your high

Uses his speed to fuck you senseless

Of course he goes raw, not like you can get anything from him 💀

He has good control on his hunger for blood

So he won't actually hurt you if he bites you too hard till blood comes

Everything is going, perfect, to say the least

Until you catch a bad stomach bug

You get sick till your guts come out

He hates hates hates it so much

That you're so vulnerable to such things

And that he isn't

That he can't do anything about it even when you reassure him it's okay

He hates knowing that someday you may leave him

When you do get better, he feels so relieved

You know what's coming

So you thought about it a lot

To be honest, you've been thinking about it since he confirmed your doubts about him being a vampire

He is so shocked when you say yes to him

When he asks if you want to, only and only if you do, he's ready to make you a vampire too

The idea of you also becoming a vamp just sounds perfect to him

Cause then it'd mean you'd never get sick or get hurt or die

So you can be together forever and ever 🥺

#sf9 #sf9 hwiyoung #sf9 headcanons #sf9 fluff #sf9 au #sf9 supernatural au #vampire!sf9 #sf9 vampire au #vampire!hwiyoung #kim youngkyun #hwiyoung #hwiyoung x reader #hwiyoung vampire au

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

The divorced fic was so cute i want to scream. Does Obi have any time to be sad or are Anakin and his little demons always there to distract him from his infinite sadness

so i know most everyone wants to know what anakin does about The Kiss but here's a bit of light hearted angst a year before that (because humanity is inherently whatever but i am inherently evil)

aka

the immediate aftermath of the Router Incident (1.4k)

The night of the day of what will come to be known as The Router Incident starts off with a bang.

Obi-Wan gets home a bit later than normal. Not because his work drags on longer than usual, but because he is, on the subject of all things even passably related to his personal life, a coward.

It’s been at least ten hours since he left the house with the goddamn wifi router tucked under his arm because Anakin had said something about finding a new place.

As if this isn’t the twenty-first century. As if Anakin doesn’t have a phone with unlimited data. As if Anakin isn’t the sort of person to walk five miles to the nearest coffeeshop with his kids in their stroller, just to use their wifi to email Obi-Wan a series of italicized question marks.

Obi-Wan’s been practicing his apology ever since he got that email. I’m really sorry, I promise I’m not a controlling megalomaniac. I just panicked because I’m not that good at letting go of things. You’d think I’d have learned by now, but apparently I only know how to dig my heels in whenever I think people are starting to pull away. Apologies again, life is not a game of tug-of-war, and I promise I do know that.

He practices his apology, of course, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t also try to put it off until the last possible moment. When he leaves the building, his car is the only one still in the lot.

I’m really sorry. Here’s the router back. I support your decision. Your kids will be great. I know you probably won’t let them see me, because that’s a bit weird if we don’t all live together, and you also don’t use social media, which is great because I also don’t use social media, but I would have made a Facebook account just to keep up with your family. It’s meant more than I can say to have something to come home to this past year, and I understand that you can’t put your life on hold for a lonely old man like me, and I will endeavor from now on to not impede your search for a new place to live.

No, too needy, he thinks at a red light, dragging his hand over his beard in defeat. He won’t beg Anakin to stay.

He would very much like to beg Anakin to stay, but he hadn’t even begged Satine to stay, and he had been in love with her.

He just enjoys Anakin’s company. His presence. Unwinding next to Anakin after a difficult day teaching is one of the things he looks forward to the most.

And this past holiday season, they’d had a big dinner at his house, filled to the brim with Anakin’s friends and his friends and some people from the local grocery store they’d met when out shopping together, and it had been so loud and so amazing. Nothing had been left untouched, there had been food on the ceiling (Obi-Wan suspects Leia to this day, but Luke had confessed), there had been leftovers for days.

You can’t just give me holidays like that and then take them away, Obi-Wan thinks angrily as he turns into his neighborhood. What will I do next winter, then?

He has to sit in his car for a second after parking, just to calm down. He’s the one in the wrong, he reminds himself. Anakin has all the right in the world to want to leave. It was never Obi-Wan’s family to begin with.

It was never Obi-Wan’s family to begin with.

When he opens the door, he’s met with the sound of children screaming and crying.

Luke rushes at him and jumps on him with enough force that he reels backwards, almost out of the house. He drops his bag on the floor in order to steady the child.

Luke is bawling his head off right next to Obi-Wan’s ear so it’s very, very difficult to hear what a red-faced Anakin is trying to say.

And then Leia runs up to him, tugs at his free hand until he looks down at her, and then stomps her little foot with a scowl. “I hate you!” she declares just as loudly as Luke is crying, before her tiny face breaks into tears and she runs off.

“Oh, for the love of--” Anakin shouts, throwing his hands up in the air and chasing after his daughter.

Obi-Wan, ridiculously hurt beyond measure and without a clue about what’s happening, goes to sit down on the couch, still gently cradling Luke’s body to his as the boy continues to weep.

“Hush,” he says soothingly. “And, ah. Please tell me what’s gotten into the Skywalkers now.”

Luke only sniffles and rubs his snotty nose all over Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Well. It’s laundry day tomorrow anyway.

“Daddy says you hate us,” Luke mumbles, just as Anakin comes back into the living room, notably sans Leia.

Obi-Wan feels his mouth fall open in shock. “Daddy says what?” he asks, very slowly, making dangerous eye contact with Anakin over the top of Luke’s blond head.

Anakin flushes an even darker shade of red and looks around the room, as if that’ll save him.

“Daddy says we gotta go because this is your house and we don’t wanna stay over our, um. Welcome. We can’t reproach on your space, which means you hate us.”

“Encroach,” Anakin corrects, which Obi-Wan does not think is the thing that really needs to be corrected. When he tries to communicate this with his eyes, Anakin gulps and says quite quickly, “I’m gonna go check on Leia actually.”

Coward.

“Luke,” Obi-Wan says gently. “Your daddy is just being very, very dumb, a trait I pray with all my heart skips a generation.”

Luke blinks at him, his little eyebrows furrowed and his button nose bright red from all of his crying.

“I don’t hate you at all,” Obi-Wan says. “I love both you and your sister very much.”

“Then why do we gotta leave?” Luke complains. “I don’t want to go, we could never play Space Pirates and Lava Dragons at the old place, it was way too small.”

Obi-Wan thinks privately that his house, while certainly big enough, is by no means the proper size for how rambunctious the twins get when they’re playing Space Pirates and Lava Dragons.

“Well,” Obi-Wan hums consideringly. “I don’t want you to leave either.”

“You don’t?” Luke asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I really don’t. But it’s not my decision to make, Luke.”

“It’s Daddy’s,” Luke concludes, head hanging low. “And Daddy wants to go.”

Obi-Wan ignores the way that sentence drives what feels like a knife straight through his heart. “Yes, well,” he coughs. “Your daddy won’t do anything he knows you and your sister really don’t want.”

Luke looks contemplative. Obi-Wan wonders if he should feel really bad or downright awful for manipulating a child in this way. But needs must.

“And he won’t listen to me,” he continues gently, smoothing down the front ends of the boy’s soft hair. “Because your daddy can be very stubborn when he thinks he’s doing something right.”

“He’ll listen to me and Leia though?” Luke asks, head cocked and eyes bright.

Obi-Wan nods very seriously. “I think he would if you both asked very nicely and thought about a lot of good reasons why you should stay here.”

“I can think of loads! And Leia can think of a ton more probably!” Luke exclaims with renewed energy, launching himself off of Obi-Wan’s lap and up the stairs, ostensibly to their shared bedroom.

Obi-Wan leans back against the couch, equal parts amused, exhausted, and hurt. He’ll need to have a serious talk with Anakin soon. He’d thought the man knew that his home was his as well. Yes, Anakin still paid rent, an unfortunate but necessary sort of system, but they’ve never been normal roommates. And Anakin isn’t a guest who could overstay his welcome.

He’s. Well.

Obi-Wan doesn’t know exactly what Anakin is to him, but he had hoped it was obvious to Anakin at least that Obi-Wan would not ever grow tired of his presence in his life.

So they do have some things to talk about.

But hopefully this means that Obi-Wan won’t actually have to apologize for the router incident, seeing as Anakin’s fuck-up caused much larger waves.

#you want me to think my five year olds know how to create an APA styled bibliography #Obi-Wan???#asks #the kids put together a powerpoint of Reasons They Have To Stay #some of it is obviously written by the kids #other bullet points are things like about school zones and bus routes and neighborhood safety #even if obi-wan refuses to admit he helped them with it #anakin side eyes him the entire time #ESPECIALLY when theres a bibliography as the last slide #and obi-wan is just fake proud #wiping away a tear #'i guess all those games of professor and student really paid off'#KUWSK

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 3 years

Text

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 9

A/N: Part 9 is here y’all! Enjoy! And let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! 💕💕💕

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, slight mention of past trauma and wounds.

You had already boarded Zemo’s private jet, sitting on the seat across from him while Sam had sat beside you with Bucky across from him. Oeznik had approached you all, asking if you wanted something to eat or drink and sharing a few words with Zemo. You shook your head, politely refusing with a kind smile before staring out the window of the jet and watching the clouds. Even though you had just left your home, you missed everyone there dearly, almost wishing you had the chance to bring Kólasi along. But you knew the local people would not take kindly to a dragon walking their streets. And wherever you were now heading, you had a feeling you were going somewhere you wouldn’t find agreeable.

“So do you have a private jet?” You heard Sam ask you.

“Nah.”

“How come?”

“She has a dragon and a pegasus Sam. I’m pretty sure they are her mode of transportation.” Zemo added.

“Wait. But what if it’s raining or there’s a storm?” Sam turned in his seat to face you, leaning in as he was curious to know how you managed to ride openly through the clouds in a storm.

“Well my father was Zeus, the god of the skies and thunder Sam. A little lightning won’t hurt me.”

“Wouldn’t you be soaked though? That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”

“Yes, well if that’s the case than I can just teleport.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Are you able to teleport others?” Bucky wanted to know, if so, it would be helpful to use that, right?

“I can. But the very first time can be unpleasant.”

“How so?”

“Well try to imagine your molecules separating and joining back together.” You tried to make an example with a motion of your hands. “So that in itself is an unpleasant feeling. You’ll also most likely puke your insides out after your first time. And there are even some rare cases where you might come back......disarranged.”

“What do you mean by disarranged?” Zemo raised his brow, not sure if you meant what he thought you meant. Would you reappear, swapped in each other’s bodies or.......

“Oh you know. Your leg might end up where your arm is supposed to be. Or your head might be sticking out your ass, something like that.” You smirked as you toyed with them, seeing the terrified expressions on everyone’s faces. They were most likely praying you wouldn’t use that ability on them. “I’m kidding, geez. Tough crowd.”

“Kidding about what part?” Bucky remarked.

“The disarrangement part. But in all realness, the only side affects are nausea and vomiting and your body feeling like jello. But you’ll get used to it.”

“Sounds like a blast.” Sam noted. “Please don’t teleport us unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Only if absolutely necessary.” You promised.

“Also, what’s up with all the weapons? Were you some kind of mercenary?” Sam asked you another question as he thought about all the weapons and armor you had in your armory.

“Well I wouldn’t call it that. Mercenaries were for profit and personal interest. I on the other hand went after tyrants and criminals. But I also hunted down monsters that posed a threat to the human population. I guess you could say I dealt with more of the.....supernatural.” You tried to elaborate.

“Monsters?” Sam raised his brow. “Like what?”

“You know, vampires, werewolves, minotaurs, hydras, chimeras, echidnas, sea monsters-“ you started to list off before Sam cut you off.

“Woah woah hang on. Vampires and werewolves? As in like twilight?”

“Hell no. I’m talking vicious flesh eating monsters here that absolutely do not sparkle. I mean, there are still some vampires left that play by the rules and don’t feed on your fellow mortals. But sometimes you’ll have the few that think they can break the rules like a bunch of idiots. Werewolves on the other hand are trickier, don’t get me started on them. But don’t worry, I got a guy, a half-mortal or daywalker, in charge of the supernatural business.”

“Hold up. So you were what? Like a Van Helsing?”

“Welll, Van Helsing was a real person.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky sat up in his seat. “What about Dracula?”

“Oh he was a real pain in the ass I tell you. That slimy bastard tried to seduce me so that he could take all the creatures under my control to do his bidding. Well, as you can see, that obviously didn’t work.”

Before the men could ask any more questions your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you pick it up to see Maze’s name on the front. Your heart skipped a beat for a moment as you stared at the screen, all the negative possibilities running through your head.

“Who is it?” Sam asked you once he noticed your expression.

“It’s Maze.”

“Did something happen?” Bucky inquired, his brows were raised and his voice was filled with concern.

“I hope not.” You accepted the call, lifting your phone to your ear. “Maze?”

“Hekate! It’s Athena!” Maze spoke in a somewhat panicked voice which only added to your nervousness and suspicions.

You shot up from your seat at the tone of her voice and her mentioning your daughter’s name. “What?! What do you mean? Did something happen to her?”

The men watched you with concern, leaning forward in the edge of their seats once they heard your daughter being mentioned. They were ready to rush over to your place right now if need be.

“Well she fell from the tree.”

“She what?!” Your blood ran cold and your heart was pounding in your chest, it felt as if it would burst right through your rib cage. “Maze speak!”

“Okay! Hang on a second. What happened was, she was playing around in her treehouse and tried to climb to the top of the tree. I tried to stop her when I saw what she was doing but she fell straight down.”

You shrieked in panic at what you had just heard. Your knees felt weak and you thought you might pass out but Bucky stood up to give you support, holding you as you gripped on to his metal arm, nearly crushing it in the process. “Is she hurt? Maze you need to tell me!”

Oeznik came in upon hearing your trembling voice, asking if anything was the matter, but Zemo had explained to him that they had it under control and should alert him if anything was needed.

“Well that’s why I’m calling you. She’s totally fine.” Maze replied.

“Wait............wait what?” You shook your head in confusion, not getting what she was talking about.

“I know right? I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be broken bones and like lots of blood after a fall like that, but she doesn’t even have a scratch on her. She even laughed the whole thing off like some kind of miniature maniac. She nearly gave me a heart attack, and demons don’t get heart attacks. Now is that normal and should I be worried?”

“Uhhh.” You were unable to form words as you tried to figure it out. Was it the protection spell you put over her or was it just her in general? You had kept such a close eye on Athena, making sure she never got hurt, that now that she has been in a situation where she could’ve gotten injured, you didn’t know how to react or what to think. But Maze did say she didn’t have a single scratch or broken bone or any kind of injury. So that must be a good thing.....right?

“Hekate?” You heard Maze on the other line again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything is fine. I was just.....thrown off for a bit. How is she?”

“Oh she’s great! We painted each other’s nails today. She’s taking a nap right now though. Hey, where’s that good shit that you have?”

“Good shit?”

“You know. Your really expensive wine from Olympus that your sibling, the wine god, what’s their name made?”

“Dionysus?”

“Yeah.”

“Umm it’s in the very top cupboard above the sink.”

“Okay thanks. I need a glass after what happened, or a bottle. Bye Hekate!” Maze hung up while you stood there, still surprised to hear Athena was unharmed and feeling almost drained after the whole ordeal.

“Everything okay?” Bucky whispered, his eyes searching your face for any further signs.

You noticed how close he was as he supported you, and you couldn’t help the blush that appeared on your cheeks, averting your gaze from his steel blue eyes. “Yeah, uh thanks.” You let go of his metal arm while he let go of you, allowing you to sit back in your seat.

“So is everything okay with Athena?” You heard Sam ask while you stared at the ground.

“Athena uh fell from the tree.”

“Is she okay?” Zemo asked you, his brows furrowed together.

“Yeah she’s fine, surprisingly. There wasn’t a single scratch on her. Must be the genes.”

Bucky pulled up the sleeve of his metal arm, a surprised chuckle leaving his lips as he saw the dented hand print you left behind. “Geez y/n. What’s with the Hercules grip?”

“Huh?” You looked up at him, glancing down at his arm to see your handprint dented into the vibranium. “Oh shit! I am so sorry! Let me fix that.” With a wave of your hand and a swirl of violet around your fingers, you fixed the dent in Bucky’s arm as if nothing ever happened to it.

Once Sam saw that you were completely fine, he turned to Zemo. “So, why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?”

“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” Zemo pulled out a small leather book which looked like the exact same one Steve had.

You jolted back in your chair as Bucky charged at Zemo, grabbing him by the neck and snatching the book back.

Your eyes widened at the commotion in front of you. “Yo! Can you guys chill out?”

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” Bucky threatened him before going back to his seat.

“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ve seen that book.” Sam commented. “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?”

“I like 40s music, so....”

“You didn’t like it?” Sam gave him an offended look.

“I liked it.”

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.” Zemo elaborated to the conversation.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.” James responded.

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye. And y/n likes him too, don’t you y/n?” Sam now turned to you.

“Hm? Oh yeah, he’s great! Hendrix was pretty awesome too. Saw him in Woodstock, super chill dude to jam out on the guitar with by the way. I may or may not have dropped acid there.” You added the last part to yourself, though Sam overheard it and gave you a judgmental look, to which you looked at him, mouthing how it was only one time.

“You must have really looked up to Steve.” Zemo voiced. “But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.”

“They become symbols.” Zemo continued to make his point. “Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

As Zemo spoke, you thought about how many of your people looked up to your father and brother, and even Hera. How many of them saw them as their beloved gods and saviors, these righteous and glorious beings. But you were there and witnessed what happened behind closed doors, you were a product of that, a product of their faults and imperfections. And as those memories came rushing back to you, so did the pain of the scars it left behind. You could still feel the tenderness of the long scar on your face left by Ares, and the number of ones that were scattered on your back like a pile of jagged twigs, leaving behind a grisly form of artwork.

“That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” Zemo finished.

You lifted your head up at the mention of the place, jerking your head towards Zemo. Well you were right about how you weren’t going to like the new destination.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thebivirgin @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky

#bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #zemo fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky x you #zemo fluff #zemo imagine #zemo x you #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n

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pennyserenade · 3 years

Text

tags: nameless female oc x javier peña, nameless female oc x javier pena. rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language, talks of violence, unprotected sex, heavy angst, mentions of death, guns, pregnancy. word count: 3k+ summary: not everything can be spoken the way it can be felt. notes: i somehow managed to do this despite feeling entirely unmotivated all day, so that’s nice. this takes place during episode 3, season 2, near the halfway mark. original gif by: @javierian

una guerra sin piedad

scene eight, scenes from a marriage

Javier is a good husband, or at least he tries to be. He doesn’t mean to do this--probably doesn’t even recognize that she knows he’s doing it. He is faced with so many objectives in a day's time, Javier doesn’t realize how easy it is to catch on to his lies. They are hardly coated, though, obvious to anyone who pays attention to him as much as she does, but that’s just it--he doesn’t pay attention at all.

He’s unaware that his fingers are shaking right now. It is a subtle act, a tremble hardly notable to the untrained eye, but these are the fingers that have been touching her for twelve years; she has seen them and felt them and come to know them better than her own. They have remained steady and nimble even after too many cups of coffee and one too many pieces of harrowing news, because they are trained to be fingers that don’t give way to anxiety. A stone body, a man meant to be unflinching in the face of the most awful of tragedies, but here with her, it allows his lies to leak out without his consent. It’s pleading, this body, asking for respite because he won’t go easier on it.

She holds his hands, keeping them steady before they can reach out and lay flat against her growing stomach. Javier looks at her and confusion sprinkles across features that are too pale to be normal, even to him. His eyes reveal an undeniable sadness, too, some sort of impact from war that he’s on the verge of losing simply because he refuses to ask for help. He is all alone in there.

“Me estás mintiendo, Javi,” she tells him, voice level and collected. “Te mientes a ti mismo también.”

He looks startled, and perhaps it is warranted. The glass case he enclosed himself in wasn’t so transparent or frail to him, after all.

He takes his hands away slowly.

“No,” he responds. “About what?”

“No sé. Not completely,” she shakes her head. “That’s why I said it.”

“I’m not lying about anything.”

“Javi.”

“What?”

“The cigarettes.”

She watches his face fall.

“You smoke them when you think I’m asleep but I do your laundry, and I can smell them when you get back in bed,” she shrugs. “You don’t hang out the window far enough either, and you always get ashes on the ground.”

“I can’t quit,” he confesses. “Not now.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Yo sé, pero…” he begins, but falters. “I wanted to.”

“I would rather you smoke than you lie.”

“Okay, but that’s all,” he confirms. “Only the cigarettes.”

“Javi.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“You of all people should know withholding information is just as incriminating,” she huffs, “I’m stronger than you ever give me credit for. You aren’t the only one who sees the blood in the streets, you know. I saw it too, still do, because we live here and that’s the reality and I’m sick of having to deny it.”

“Baby,” he groans. “Please. I don’t ever ask you to postpone these things, but I cannot do this tonight. I cannot.”

“What happened tonight, Jav?”

He shakes his head. Lips straighten into a tight line and his Adam’s apple bops.

“It was nothing.”

“Please,” she pleads, in the same vein as his own. “You don’t know how bad I need to know what is happening in your mind.”

“Nothing.”

His eyes start going blank again, despite the small smile he forces onto his lips. It has gone quicker than it had come.

She frowns.

He senses that his control over this situation is ebbing away. Lies, denial, the cruel act of simply not telling—it oozes out of him.

Deception ages poorly, if this is anything to go by. It is grotesque what the truth can do to something beautifully fabricated as their marriage has been the past few months. Those tiny cuts that had existed before are now bloody wounds, infected with the spoils of their selfishness.

He cups her face in his hand; she lets him. He swipes the pad of his thumb over the warm skin, and looks into her eyes; she lets him. He leans forward to kiss her; she does not let him.

She’s never done that. It hollows him out, digging deeper in the already sensitive heart he’s carrying around.

“Te amo mucho,” she begins, taking the hand that cradled her face in her own, “but you are hiding from me and it hurts to see.”

He face twitches, as if he’s going to say something, but he grows hesitant. He realizes what he might lose, realizes what’s at stake.

It is not that she hasn’t seen the violence, or that he thinks her too weak to handle it. He knows what she can bear, knows that before he ever met her she was reporting on what he found. Anyone in Colombia, reporter or not, knows, because this is what happens. Violence. She can’t not know.

What she can avoid knowing is his involvement in it. Withholding the truth is just as incriminating, she is right, but she’s been here long enough to know that crime runs rampant. It infects the entire country with its allure—that promise of getting to better places faster—and he is someone who has been swept dangerously up in its tide.

She does not need to know. Some things shouldn’t be told, just as those things shouldn’t have been done.

Doesn’t need to know it had been a boy. Just a fucking mouthy kid who had been washed into a war he didn’t deserve to comprehend let alone contribute to.

The gun was held by someone who should’ve protected him, too. Noble American hero he was, Javi stood by and watched. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Steve—was coerced out the way he refused to be with her.

He swallows harshly and thinks once more about the line of English he muttered before it had happened. It was a plea the boy wouldn’t have understood or grasped, said because deep down Javier knew what was about to happen. He didn’t say it in Spanish, though. He has to reconcile with the fact that the plea was more for himself than it was the boy with the gun in his face. Has to reconcile with the fact that he won’t speak about it again, too, even though he knows it’s wrong. She doesn’t need to know that, does she?

“I’m not going to tell you,” he speaks with a harsh finality. Maybe it’s not so harsh; maybe it’s just the fact that it’s so final that really hurts.

She holds her breath, the pain of his answer sharp and sudden and irrevocably real regardless.

“I can’t,” he repeats.

There’s no way he doesn’t know he’s hurting her now, and she supposes he’s doing this for a good reason, but the ache of it still burns just as bad.

“I know,” she says. Then, a sacrifice, “S’okay.”

Javier’s eyes shift down to her stomach. He has found an increasing need to keep his hands and arms wrapped around her nearly all of the time lately. Given, he has always loved the way she melts into his body when he wraps himself around her, but this is different; it is a sort of comfort that stems beyond liking the warmth of her. This is a need to protect.

His feelings about the child still lean more towards confusion than they do anything else, but he’s begun to accept the fact that it is real. It’s hard to deny such a thing as her stomach begins to grow, but a part of him sort of likes knowing that it’s there now. He has given her something that isn’t pain, something that will be beautiful and innocent. He watches her, too, sees the way she holds her stomach and hears the way she speaks to it when she thinks he’s in a different room.

He remembers when she had told him that she was meant to be so much more than just someone’s mother or just someone’s wife. That felt like a century ago, those two people entirely different than the ones that lay here now and talk with each other. He doesn’t mourn for it, that time and those people, but he does think about them.

She is still so much more than a wife and a mother, to be fair. Maybe she never accomplished everything she had envisioned when she had told him that, but there’s something so fiercely independent about her still, something entirely separate from anyone, even the one who grows inside her.

She kept her last name. She reads all the time and piles books all over the house, adding personality in a way he never favored beyond his own shit until she came. She still writes. She’s compiled an entire record collection, full of artists and bands he’s never heard, and sometimes ones he has, the special sort that remind him of being a kid. She can sew. She is good at puzzles. She always burns her own toast but never his. She is good at oral because in the same way she had dedicated herself to a lot of things in life, she had also dedicated herself to learning how to suck a cock (her words, not his). She is filthy in a way that makes him ache sometimes, it’s so goddamn hot. She is kind. She is his everything.

He isn’t happy or proud of the fact that he cannot find it in himself to admit what he has done. He knows she doesn’t deserve to be in a relationship filled with lies, ones so concealed she can’t even begin to find out what they are. Cigarettes are nothing in comparison to the things he witnessed tonight, and even those break her heart.

His love for her is selfish, but it is still the very best part of him.

“Let me touch you,” he whispers, hands ghosting lightly over her bare arms. “I just wanna make you feel good right now. Will you let me do that?”

She nods, and then, without him asking, she raises the slip she wears over her head, leaving her perfectly naked on top of him. He leans forward soon after and takes a nipple in his mouth. Her fingers rake through his hair as he runs his tongue against the sensitive flesh, but this time they do not tug. There is no rush or hunger in the way they are choosing to be with one other right now. Their bodies are too weak from emotional ware and tear, and their minds too numb from resisting the confrontation of the heaviness tonight has brought upon them.

His fingers travel down to her core and when they find her clit, she pulls her back from her chest and kisses him, stealing a moan from his mouth. She breathes into him. After she pulls back, she rests her forehead against his own. Javi focuses more intently on her pleasure, measuring his success from the way her breath begins to quicken and the way her hips begin to rock up into his hand, desperate for more. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and she bites down gently at the skin of his shoulder, muffling herself as his fingers quicken the pace. She’s getting close, he knows.

“That’s it, mi amor,” he tells her as she works herself on his fingers. “Use me, baby.”

It doesn’t take long until her lips part from his skin and find themselves letting out sharp moans, hips coming to a slow halt as she finishes working herself through the wave of her orgasm on his fingers.

She presses her lips onto his, panting gently as she does so. When she allows herself to rest against him, he can feel how wet she is through the fabric of his boxers.

He grabs onto the back of her neck and deepens the kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and begins to rub herself against him, and he lets her for a few moments, enjoying what he can of her like this, before he rests a hand on her hip to stop it.

“I want to taste you,” he tells her. She just looks at him. “Por favor.”

She nods, beginning to get off of him, but he grabs at her again, stilling her. Her eyebrows raise in confusion.

“Sit on my face.”

“Javi, I’m too—“

“No you’re not,” he assures. He begins to lay down, pushing a pillow beneath his head. “C’mon, you like it.”

“Baby,” she hesitates.

Javi tugs gently on her hand, urging her forward. She sighs, but caves in.

He helps her, guiding her forward on his chest and she goes, but he can feel how nervous she is still.

He nips at her thighs before he adjusts herself over him. “I like doing this,” he tells her before he guides her forward the last few inches, and immediately he can feel all the tension ease from her as his tongue dips into her.

She grabs a handful of his hair and licks between her folds, lapping up the last bit of her previous arousal. His nose grazes gently over her clit every so often and she cannot help the moan that escapes from her when it does. He is losing himself in her, transforming all the lies into nothing even for the briefest moments.

He may not be the best husband, but he can make her feel good. He likes it too, genuinely enjoys the taste of her on his tongue and the accomplished, satisfying feeling of knowing he makes her legs weak and is the cause of the moans that part from her when she truly gets lost in this. And God, how they fall now as he sucks her clit. She unintentionally moves her hips forward.

“Sorry,” she says, but Javi is quick to gently shake his head, not wanting to lose her. His hands wrap around her ass and he encourages it, going as far as moaning into her when she begins to develop a good pace. He gropes at her ass and she cums again, twitching gently this time. Javi cannot help the grin that forms on his lips as she does this.

She guides herself off of him, collapsing next to him in the bed. Before he has the chance to wipe her arousal off his lips, she’s pulling him into a kiss.

She loves this man. He may hurt her and hide from her, but she never feels unloved in his presence. Maybe that is enough. Maybe asking for any more than that is wrong. He is a good man.

She kisses a trail down his chest, moving back in between his legs before she reaches the halfway point.

“No,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Why?” she questions.

“You don’t need to just because I did,” he says. “You don’t have to touch me at all.”

“I want to, Javi,” she tells him, hands shimming down his underwear.

She kisses down his happy trail, then peppers light kisses around the base of his cock. His breath hitches, anticipating her next move, and he is delighted to find it is her tongue licking the underside of his sensitive member. He nearly jolts out of her hand, the sensation of her feels so good.

He cannot help but tell her, saying, “Fuck, you do it just right.”

Despite all the ache still present in her, she manages a soft, unaffected laugh. He notes that, feels just as moved by that as he does the way her mouth wraps around his member and begins to be worked.

She twirls her tongue around the top each time she comes back up, and she moves back down slowly, drawing multiple moans and “fucks” from his lips. He cannot look at her while she does it, unable to refrain from coming in her mouth if he does. He’s already dangerously on the edge as she includes her tongue when she’s going back down on his choke, running across each vein and causing his hips to twitch just as hers did.

“I’m gonna—“ he pauses, fighting the urge to release with all he has in him. “I’m going to cum soon and I want it to be in you. You—“ he pauses again, breath leveling, “—you gotta stop or I won’t make it.”

“I don’t want you to,” she manages, before returning to his cock, going up and down at an increased rate. His fingers clench the sheets beneath him as she does this, losing it when she moans against him. He can’t stop it, can’t resist the urge any longer and doesn’t truly want to, knowing she’s not going to let him.

He opens his eyes and watches her wipe a line of his arousal from her chin before she swallows down the rest of it. Tired and spent as he is, he still manages to rise from his back quickly to kiss her. He can taste himself on her lips, but he does not mind it. The kisses are not as lust filled, more tender and caring, and he is all the more pleased when she guides him backwards again, before settling next to him and wrapping one of her legs around his. His heart beats rapidly and his mind is not yet void of thought (he isn’t sure if it will ever be), but the tension between them has dissipated. Even if it is temporary, and even if it is something that is going to come back ten times worse, Javi values this for what is now and appreciates her submission once more into this fantasy land with him.

She herself wonders, despite all the unspoken heartbreak, and despite all the unknown truths, what their baby might look like and what qualities it might possess from him as she lies silently next to him. Wonders because what she has learned is that the future is her friend and that imagining it does no harm.

It is a place where nothing is broken or harmed, the future. A place where she can cling to the vestiges of hope she’s granted even when he holds her and doesn’t tell her what he’s done or seen. It’s a place beautifully untouched by the unfair quality of truth and pain; a place where he stands in the doorframe of their bedroom with a small, newly born child and looks happy in a way she hasn’t seen in so long; a place where she will never have to fret about whether she will ever get that from him or not, because it is hers and she does.

The future has always been kind to her, kind in the way the present never, ever seems to be. She clings onto Javi and even manages a sad sort of grin at the thought of a child who’s hair curls the same way his does when it gets too long.

She doesn’t share these thoughts with him, though—hardly ever does—because she needs things for herself. Admitting these notions into the world is to corrupt them, or to corrode the meaning they have to her now. She loves him, but these are her thoughts the way whatever he battles are his.

This is a scene of a war without mercy; this is scene eight from a marriage.

javi tag list : @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @disgruntledspacedad , @melaniermblt , @walt-breslin , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @over300books

forever/everything tag list : @astroboots , @frannyzooey , @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @melaniermblt , @theorganasolo , @amneris21

scenes tags: @gravegoth , @sarahjkl82-blog , @cmonkeepmoving

#javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x oc #javier pena x nameless oc #javier peña x nameless oc #javier pena x female reader #narcos fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal #fanfic

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iamanartichoke · 3 years

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I wrote a Thing. It’s extremely long. I’d prefer it not be reblogged; I wrote this for my own catharsis and would prefer it not be circulated, bc of Reasons.

I changed my mind, okay to reblog. <3

Under a cut for (extreme, did I mention?) length.

So I got about 12 minutes of sleep last night, as you do, and around 3am or so I found myself - out of sheer curiosity - going down a meta hole of Ragnarok discourse, trying to figure out where this "satisfying redemption arc" for Loki happened. (I mean, there's a lot of things I would like to figure out, but I started there.) Because I could.

Basically I was looking for meta that went into detail about how Loki was redeemed in a satisfactory way. The ‘satisfactory’ is an important word here bc there is a redemption arc in the film, in that Loki starts off the film as an antagonist (kinda) to Thor and he ends the film as an ally to Thor, standing at Thor's side. In that sense, yes, there's a redemption arc. I didn't find much (and I had no idea how much people just despise Ragnarok "antis" [I really dislike that word] but that's another topic [that I don't particularly want to get into, tbh]) but I did find some. I read what I could find, and I read it open-mindedly, and overall I came away feeling like, okay, there are some valid points being made here and I can kinda see where they're coming from.

But it was a bit (a lot) like -- flat. Idk. The best comparison I can think of is that it’s like if a literature class read, I don't know, The Yellow Wallpaper for an assignment, and some of the students came away from it feeling like it was a creepy story about a woman slowly driving herself insane, and the other students came away from it incensed at the oppression and infantilization of women in the late 19th century -

- and neither side is wrong, but the former is a very surface-level reading and the latter isn't (bc it stems from looking at why she drives herself insane, why she was prescribed 'rest' in the first place, the context of what women could and couldn't do back then, etc; basically, a bit more work has to go into it).

[Note: I am not disparaging the quality of The Yellow Wallpaper. At all. It’s just the first relatively well-known story that popped into my head.]

In this sense, I can see the argument for Loki's redemption arc, but I don't think it's a very good argument. Not invalid, but not great.

I mean, for example, I think the most consistent argument I found variations of re: Loki's redemption is that Ragnarok shows Loki finally taking responsibility for his bad behaviour and misdeeds. This includes recognizing that his actions were fueled from a place of self-hatred and a desire to self-destruct in addition to bringing destruction on others. That he probably feels awkward and regretful of these things and doesn't know how to act around Thor, but he figures it out by the end, and decides that returning to Asgard is the best way to show that he's ready to make amends. His act of bringing the Statesman to Asgard is an apology. He allies himself with Thor and ends up in a better place, both narratively (united with Thor once again) and mentally (having taken responsibility and made amends for his past).

And setting aside that he had already made amends by sacrificing his life in TDW (and also setting aside that the argument is made that Loki redeems himself in IW by sacrificing himself to Thanos but if that's the case, wouldn't that imply that he hadn't achieved redemption in Ragnarok or else there would be no need to achieve it again in IW? Or, if you think he did achieve redemption in Ragnarok, then what the fuck did he give his life in IW for? What was his motivation there, and why did the narrative not make it clearer? I digress.)

- setting aside those two factors, I think this is a very fair argument. Loki is fueled by self-hatred, and he does want to self-destruct, and he does want to inflict that pain on others as well (particularly Thor). No lies detected here.

However, I also need to know where that self-hatred and desire for destruction (toward himself and others) comes from and for that, we need to go back to Thor 1.

Thor 1.

Loki starts Thor 1 out as "a clenched fist with hair," to borrow a quote from the Haunting of Hill House (that I tucked away in my mental box of Lovely Things bc it says so much so very simply). He's very used to bottling everything up, pushing it down; he slinks around behind the scenes, pulling the strings to this plot or that. He's "always been one for mischief," but the narrative implies that the coronation incident is the first time Loki's done anything truly terrible. And it all immediately pretty much goes to shit, so Loki spends the rest of the movie frantically juggling all these moving pieces while trying to seem as if he's got it all under control, every step of the way. That's how I view his actions.

But I always come back to that quote where Kenneth Branaugh tells Tom, of the scene in the vault, "This is where the thin steel rod that's been holding your mind together snaps." In other words this is where Loki discovering he's Jotun is just one thing too many. He can't take it. But though the rod snaps, his descent isn't a nosedive. It's a tumble. As the story progresses, the clenched fist starts to loosen, the muscles are flexed in unfamiliar ways (that feel kinda good, after being stiff for so long), and it culminates with the hand opening completely and shaking itself out. All of that repression, that self-hatred, that rage and jealousy just explodes so that, by the time the bifrost scene happens, Loki's already hit bottom. It's not just about proving his worthiness to Odin. He wants to hurt Thor, too; he, essentially, throws a tantrum. (That's right, I said tantrum.)

(Note: The word 'tantrum’ has negative connotations bc we normally equate it with a toddler stamping their feet and screaming in the aisle when their parent won't buy them the toy they want. But in itself, the word tantrum isn't infantalizing. It's an "emotional outburst, an uncontrolled explosion of anger and frustration" [paraphrasing from dictionary.com]. That's exactly what happens here [and why Tom called Loki's actions a massive tantrum, but people took that to mean Tom agreed it was childish whereas I doubt Tom meant it that way]).

He's been pushed past his limit, and he does bad things. He does really shitty things. He hurts Thor, he hurts his family. I'm pretty sure he knows this all along so this isn't, like, some revelation further down the line that "hey, those things I did were probably kinda bad." He got the memo already.

Ragnarok

Fast forward to Ragnarok, and we're introduced to a version of Loki who's had 4ish years to sit with everything that's happened. To sit with it and not do much else. The rawness of it has faded, and now it seems as though it's just become a thing, like when you move through life aware of your childhood traumas and have more or less just accepted them (and you probably share a lot of really funny depression memes on Facebook, which is kinda the equivalent of Loki's play, but that's probably just me).

Loki has, more or less, chilled out. He seems more bored than anything else; he's been masquerading as Odin for longer than he ever planned or intended to, so he's more or less ended up hanging out, letting Asgard mind its own business, and entertaining himself with silly plays. This is the version that starts out the movie as an antagonist to Thor - a version that is, arguably, in a much different place [and is a much milder threat] than the version who originally did those Bad Things.

And of course Thor is still mad at him, and of course they're going to butt heads, because that's what they do (and Thor's grievances are genuine, I’ll add, bc it's not really his fault he assumed Loki faked his death, nor can he be blamed for being pissed about Odin).

One argument framed this version of Loki as being a person who is facing the awkwardness of coming out of a dark place, which is fair. If we're going to frame his actions in Thor 1 as a tantrum, then Ragnarok would be the part where the toddler has been taken home, possibly has had some lunch and a juice box, and is now watching cartoons. They're over the tantrum, and would probably feel pretty silly about it if they weren't, yknow, toddlers. They probably can't remember why they even wanted that toy so badly. If they're a little older and self-aware, they might even be embarrassed for having melted down.

Like the word tantrum, this feeling isn't a thing limited to toddlers. I know I've had a few epic meltdowns as a grown ass adult, and I know I always feel deeply embarrassed afterwards - like, want to crawl into a hole and die. I've said things I can't take back. Adolescents and teenagers throw tantrums, mentally ill people throw tantrums, adults throw tantrums (I mean, my god, look at all the videos of Karens having screaming meltdowns - screaming! - over having to wear masks in order to shop at stores). Humans throw tantrums. And usually, after the feelings have been let out and the tantrum has passed, humans feel pretty regretful and awkward and embarrassed about whatever they did and said in the midst of their meltdown.

I get all of that and agree it's valid and that Loki probably feels it. By the time Ragnarok happens, Loki's had some time to reflect and think hmm, yeah, probably could've handled that one a lot better. The argument further goes that in order to navigate this awkward period, Loki must come to terms with what he's done, acknowledge that some things can't be unsaid or undone, and begin to make amends. Supposedly, some people feel that Loki becomes a better person because he does "own" everything he did wrong and, even though he feels like a jackass (paraphrasing), he sets that aside to become a become a better person by choosing to help Thor and Asgard at the end.

Thus, the overall arc goes like this. Loki, Thor's jealous little brother,

throws a tantrum of epic proportions bc Reasons

continues to act badly and make things even worse (Avengers)

has to face consequences for his actions (prison sentence)

ends up with a stretch of time in which he's free to contemplate and chill out

feels embarrassed and awkward about how he's behaved

sees an opportunity to make up for it and decides to take it

helps Thor, saves the day, and ends the film a better person.

Redemption achieved.

None of this is wrong. The film supports it. It's a fair interpretation. But it leaves. out. so. much.

To circle all the way back around Loki being "a clenched fist with hair," and his actions stemming from his self-hatred, you have to ask - how did he get that way? He didn't end up with all this self-hatred on accident. Generally, one isn't born despising themselves, it's a learned behavior. (I realize chemical imbalances are a thing, obviously, as I have Mental Shit myself, but for argument's sake I'm assuming that's not the case with Loki [at this point in time]).

Where did Loki learn it? From his family, from his surroundings, from his culture. We see examples of these microaggressions in the first, like, twenty minutes of the movie - a guard openly laughs at Loki's magic after Thor makes a joke about it (the tone of the conversation implies that Thor "jokes" like this often) and though Loki does the snake thing, the guard faces no real consequences. Thor doesn't acknowledge that anything went amiss. Not much later, on their way to Jotunheim, Loki's barely gotten two words out to Heimdall before Thor cuts him off, steps in front of him, and takes charge. Loki doesn't look annoyed at this; he looks resigned.

Then, for absolutely no reason at all, Volstagg decides to make a jab at Loki ("silver tongue turned to lead?") just because he can. The ease with which he makes this comment and the way that no one else blinks an eye at it implies that this isn't out of the norm. And Loki doesn't react, not really. In the deleted version, he delivers a particularly nasty comeback but he delivers it under his breath, without intending Volstagg to hear it. In the final version, he simply says nothing, though his expression can be read as hurt or stung. Either way, the audience sees an example of Loki being walked all over by Thor and his friends and bottling up his reactions instead of standing up for himself.

Microaggressions matter. They are mentally and emotionally damaging. They hurt. The implication that this is not unusual treatment for Loki means that Loki's probably gone through this for most of his life. It's like the equivalent of being, I don't know, twenty two and you're the friend who has to walk behind the others when the sidewalk isn't wide enough, and it's been that way since the first day of kindergarten. At this point, you're used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when the jabs come seemingly out of nowhere, for no reason other than to make you feel bad.

(I personally identify a lot with this bc I experienced passive bullying in social settings for years. I was the 'doesn't fit on the sidewalk' friend; I hung around with people who'd pretend to be my friend and would be more or less nice to my face, but would laugh at me and make fun of me behind my back for whatever reasons. And often there'd be the random jabs at me, things that would come out of nowhere to smack me in the face, followed by the fake laugh and “just kidding!" so that I couldn't even get upset without being made to feel like I was overreacting and couldn't take a joke. I'd deal with this socially, particularly in middle school when girls are their most vicious, and then I'd go home and, because I was the only girl with a lot of brothers and because boys are mean and because I am who I am, the dynamic was that my brothers would just endlessly roast me to my face and sometimes it was a "just kidding!" thing, where I was the only one not laughing. But that’s beside the point; my point is that microaggressions, passive bullying, and consistent invalidation are harmful and that shit stays with you into adulthood.)

So, yes, Loki needs to be held responsible for his misdeeds, and it's valid to say that he recognizes those misdeeds and wants to make amends. I have never disagreed with that. But the problem with this interpretation is that it lets every single other character who contributed to Loki's self-hatred and mental breakdown (let's just call a spade a spade here, that's what it was; he was broken psychologically) get off scot-free.

First of all,

Odin is not held accountable for instilling in the princes a mentality of Asgard first, everyone is beneath us but Jotuns are benath us the most, they are literal monsters. He is not held accountable for pitting his sons against one another (even if it was unintentional, he still did it) with "you were both born to be kings but only one of you can rule" being the general tone of their upbringing. He's not held accountable for his favoritism toward Thor.

Frigga is not held accountable for deferring to Odin both in supporting the above things and in keeping the truth of Loki's origins a secret while doing nothing to discourage the "monsters" narrative.

Thor is not held accountable for his own tendency of taking Loki for granted (he assumes Loki will come to Jotunheim, he oversteps Loki constantly, “know your place,” etc.. He grants his implicit permission for Loki to be treated as the sidewalk friend in their “group,” a group which is loyal to and takes their cues from Thor as Thor continues to do nothing in his brother's defense).

[Note: Wanting Thor to be held accountable for things he's done wrong isn't vilifying him. Acknowledging that Thor benefited from Odin's favoritism and his own place as Crown Prince doesn't negate Thor also being raised in an abusive environment. I don't think anyone's saying that or, if they have, it's not something I agree with.]

Furthermore,

Odin is not held accountable for his cruelty in disowning Loki (”your birthright was to die” is never going to be forgotten, speaking of people saying things that can't be unsaid or taken back) and in sentencing Loki to a severe prison sentence (life! only bc Frigga wouldn't let him execute Loki) for crimes that are no worse than what Odin himself has committed (around which the entire plot of Ragnarok revolves! Colonialism (and subjugation) is wrong is, like, a major theme [that people rush to praise, even] here).

Thor is also never held accountable for not trying harder to understand what made Loki snap (fair enough, he didn't have a ton of time after returning from Earth, but certainly he had lots of time to sit around reflecting while Loki was being tortured by Thanos for a year). He knows Loki is "not himself" and "beyond reason" and accepts it at face value; he questions it once and then lets it go. He's fine with assuming Loki's just lost his mind, and isn't that a shame. (I realize I'm simplifying Thor's emotions but my point is that Thor could've tried harder to figure out that Loki was being influenced and/or not acting completely autonomously.)

Thor is also never held accountable for - if not facing consequences for his own slaughter of Jotuns - then at least addressing why Loki can't kill an entire race even though Thor tried to do that, like, two days ago. (Granted, it’s difficult to understand how Thor got from Point A ("let's finish them together, Father!") to Point B (this is wrong!), but that failing belongs to Thor 1 (which is not, by the way, a perfect movie).

The interpretation that Loki is fully redeemed because he took responsibility for his actions, returned to Asgard, and allied himself with Thor to save their people is all well and good - but, why is Loki the only one here who has to take responsibility for their actions?

What about all the loose threads in his story?

For example, how did he get from:

Point A (believing himself a literal monster, having a complete mental breakdown, getting tortured and further traumatized after that, etc)

Point B (Hey, yknow what would be fun? I'm going to write and direct a play about how I heroically died to save Thor and Jane, and I'll go ahead and have Odin say he accepts me and has always loved me. I'm going to do these things because Odin never said this in real life and instead of acknowledging my sacrifice, Thor left my body in the dirt, so someone has to validate what I've done right and that someone might as well be me. And hey, while I'm at it, I'm going to control the narrative on revealing myself as Jotun to Asgard, instead of living in fear of it being found out, and I'm going to do it in a way that they have to sympathize with me and revere me in death, bc they never bothered to do so when I was alive. And Matt Damon should play me, also.)

Point C (Yeah, I guess I feel kinda awkward about that whole tantrum thing, also I should help Thor and support him being king.)

The answers to these questions are handwaved and the audience takes that to mean they don't matter. Furthermore, framing Loki's redemption around an act of service (more or less) to Thor makes Loki's redemption about Thor. Does Loki make this decision for the sake of Thor and of Asgard, or does he make it for himself? It's not super clear to me, and I think arguments can be made for both. Which, again, is fine, but - whatever.

If we're going to collectively agree, as a fandom, that Loki is complex, that he's morally gray, that he's worthy of redemption and therefore arguably a good person who's done bad things, then why is it asking too much to have it acknowledged that Thor (also a good person who's done bad things) played a part in Loki's downfall and has shit to apologize for, too? Bc one can only assume the reason is that you're taking a very gray concept and making it black and white by saying Loki has to apologize and make amends because he is the villain, and Thor doesn't because he is the hero (and it's his movie). And it's lazy.

This is where the crux of the issue lands. There's more than one valid interpretation, yes. And no two people (or groups of people, or whatever) are going to consume and therefore interpret or analyze the source material in the same way. I think I saw a post recently about how studies have been done on this, in fact. But, there is a lot going on under the surface that tends to get overlooked when exploring Loki's redemption arc in Ragnarok, as far as I can see, and that’s why I don’t consider it satisfactory.

[I did read similar arguments regarding other issues that are often debated ('debated'), like Loki's magic and/or being underpowered, whether or not Loki's betrayal of Thor was the natural outcome of the situation on Sakaar or not, whether Thor actually gets closure with Odin [if he does, how does he reconcile the father he's idolized with the imperialistic conqueror he's discovered? Why doesn't he hold Odin responsible for covering up Hela's existence and the threat of her return, especially as he knew he was nearing the end of his life? Is Thor's "I'm not as strong as you" meant to imply that he acknowledges those shortcomings of Odin's and that he's okay with them, or that he's just overlooking them, or is he not okay with them but didn't have the chance to get into it bc he was in the middle of battle? T'Challa confronted his father on his wrongdoings in Black Panther; could Thor not have had at least one line that was confrontational enough to establish where he stands as opposed to this gray middle? Can someone explain to me how any of this equates to Thor gaining closure? Please?) but obviously I'm not going to go into all of them (well, I tried not to), bc this mammoth post has gone on long enough (I may not even post this tbh)]

- but my overall point to this entire thing is that when I say I'm critical of Ragnarok bc it's flawed, that Loki's arc was neither complete nor satisfactory, that many things went unaddressed and, due to all of these things, I do not think Ragnarok is a very good movie nor a very cohesive movie, this is where I'm coming from. I have not seen anything to change my mind to the contrary.

But I am not saying that anyone satisfied with it is wrong, or shouldn't have the interpretation that they do. I'm not vilifying Thor in order to lift Loki up, just acknowledging that Thor is arguably just as flawed as Loki without the stigma of being Designated Villain. I think a lot of these arguments get overlooked or dismissed, and that's fine, but it doesn't make the people who do engage with them hateful, or bitter, or trying to excuse Loki's crimes, or feeling like redemption means that Loki's crimes should be erased rather than reconciled.

And sure, yes, perhaps we are expecting too much and exploring all of these themes (or wanting them explored) means that somehow we think it should be Loki's movie (we don't). Loki is a supporting character, but he's still a character. And the movie itself doesn't have to delve into all these things - no one's saying that. (At least, I'm not.) We just want acknowledgement, from the narrative, that this stuff was an Issue.

This could have been accomplished with -

Some dialogue closer to the novelization (and original script), like Thor and Loki both acknowledging the harm they've done one another and their kingdom due to their Feels.

A single line of Thor confronting Odin, or even asking "Why?"

A narrative acknowledgement that Odin did both Thor and Loki dirty (”I love you, my sons” isn't an apology, because it doesn't acknowledge either that there's been wrong-doing or express regret for having done the wrong in the first place).

A little bit more nuance in the way Loki treats his own past (ie, instead of flippantly telling the story of his suicide attempt, maybe - if it must be flippant - talk about getting blasted in the face with Hawkeye's arrow or sailing through to Svartalfheim [And in that moment, I sang ta-daaaa!]) or whatever.

I recognize that wanting full, in-depth exploration on all of these issues regarding a supporting character is probably too much to ask or expect - but, I also feel like, if you're going to be professionally writing a narrative (or rewriting/improvising, as it were), it's not too much to ask that a little more care be taken in regards to all of the layers that have contributed to said supporting character's downfall and subsequent redemption arc. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want.

And maybe if there had been more nuance and continuity in how these things were portrayed on screen (ie, if TW had actually done as good a job as his stans think he did), the fandom wouldn't have divided and conquered itself over which "version" of the same character is more valid and whether or not the film did its best to close out a trilogy (not start a new one), to the point where everyone in this fandom space makes navigating it feel like walking through a minefield.

But, I mean

(Again, please don’t reblog if possible.)

Edit: Okay to reblog. <3

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voiceswithoutlips · 3 years

Text

Fallen - Chapter One

— pairing: OT7 x Reader (F) — genre: Fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff, Eventual Smut, ANGST , Poly!BTS — word count: 2.8k — Rating: M — warnings: minor character death, slight gore — beta: Thank you so much @taegularities and @unoriginal-username15432 for all you feedback <3

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— chapter summary:

The people you killed, they haunted your dreams. They would say to you, “What you do always comes back to you, there is no escape from this miserable life.” It was true, there was no escape. In your world there was only darkness, sorrow, fear, hate and death, always death.

— A/N: It is I, your idiotic author. Welcome to my blog <3

Ch. 2

The sound of rain was like a roaring beast. It was almost midnight and the roads were lonely. You stood there in an alley facing a madman, uh, mad-vampire. His eyes were glowing red; he was wearing a dirty grey cloak on his rag like cloth. His brown hair had gotten messy when he’d run away from you but there he was, still as a dead body, waiting for you to attack. There were thick walls on both sides of the alley and behind him was a dead end. He was trapped.

“Lockham, why don’t you come back with me? That way I won’t have to kill you,” you suggested to the psycho killer vampire who stood a mere ten feet away from you. There was no way for him to run so maybe he would attack. You weighed your options - fight? That would’ve been nice; at least your body would’ve gotten some exercise.

He laughed. “You think you can win? Destiny is waiting for you Hunter,” he said in an impressive voice. Another one of those ‘destiny’ believers. Apparently the Goddess had a plan for us all, not that you had much faith in it. Gods don't care about who kills whom or who eats what, they’re more concerned about their own entertainment. You’d never put much faith in any higher power, God or not, nobody gave a shit.

“You’ve killed people Lockham, you’ve been a very naughty vampire and now it’s time for your punishment,”you said as a teacher would say to a naughty kid. He took a step back.

“Who are you to punish me?” he mocked, showing you his blood covered teeth. He was just having a meal when you found him and then you two had a nice chase. You were glad that he ran, you wanted to stretch out your legs anyway.

“Exactly, I’m no one,” you said and took a step forward; he took a step back simultaneously and vanished. What? Vanished? How? You walked forward to investigate and sighed. How careless of you. There was a hole, he fell into the sewer. He must have used cloaking so that it would look like he vanished. The only thing he forgot was to close the hole. You shook your head, you hated wet places! You jumped down and landed lightly on your feet, without making a sound, perfect.

You were getting bored of chasing him, it was almost dawn and you needed your beauty sleep. You took a deep breath and pulled out your silver dagger. It was your favorite weapon. Silver was deadly to vampires. It was very pretty with a finely carved snake on the handle with emeralds where the eyes should be; a gift from someone you had known a long time ago. You closed your eyes and let your mind wander through the tunnels. Just like your immunity to silver, your telepathy was stronger than centuries old vampires and you could perform magic. You were a half-witch after all.

You found him running through the tunnels. As soon as your mind touched him, he froze. You were inside his mind now. Reading someone’s mind was nothing like watching a movie or reading a book. It was like waking up from a dream, you don’t remember what you saw or heard but the thing that you remember is the feeling, the essence of the dream. Every being has a certain essence, unique to them. Like walls that you can’t see or touch, but you know they’re there. You could clearly see the tunnel before you, but it was like a distant memory, you were no longer there.

You were in a room, an old room with cobwebs and dust. It smelled of something rotten, like a thousand dead rats. There were worn out clothes hanging from the ceiling - correction, there was no ceiling, just clothes hanging midair and swaying with the wind, except there was no wind. At one corner sat two rusty iron chairs. The window with broken glass showed a full moon.

There was an old cupboard on the wall with the yellow wallpaper. It was white as if someone had carved it from bone. There were noises coming from the cupboard, screeching, screaming, the cry of a baby, the soothing voice of a mother, someone’s last words. A shudder ran through your body. I will never ever do this again, you promised yourself.

You heard a creak from behind and you swiftly turned back. There he was, sitting in a corner, the little boy. He held a tattered grey cloak in his hands. His body was folded at impossible angles. He was white as a sheet, there was no blood in his body. He was thin with brittle bones. Dull brown eyes in a sunken face held unimaginable terror.

He looked up at you. “I’m tired, I want to sleep,” he whispered and quickly stole a glance at the cupboard.

“Then why don’t you sleep?” you whispered back, clearly not wanting to wake anything in there. Yeah, getting into someone’s mind was a nice thing, you could get full control over them... but there was a catch. If something went wrong in that mind or if you failed to escape in time, then you’d be trapped there forever, or die. You were pretty sure that you didn’t want to be trapped in this mind, not here.

“They don’t let me sleep, they keep me awake so that I could bring more and more food for them,” he replied, pointing a finger at the cupboard. Slowly, you understood what he was saying. ‘One without a soul feeds on other’s souls,’ the thought crossed your mind, not a good one.

“What if you don’t bring them food?” You already knew the answer but you asked anyway, maybe just to confirm it.

“I’ll go mad,” he whispered back with horrified eyes.

“Come to me, I’ll help you sleep.” The words left your lips, the real ones which were still attached to your face. Lockham turned back and slowly walked towards you. You could hear his heavy footsteps in the tunnel. At last he took the last turn and there he stood right in front of you. His eyes were blank. It was like there was no soul in his body, no life. You had him entirely under your control. If you told him to do ballet, he would dance like a professional, but you weren't a sadist. Life had already tortured him enough.

“Come forward,” you said softly, the sooner it ended the better. He walked forward and your silver dagger slashed through his throat, severing his spine, killing him in a second. Blood splashed and soaked his body. It was a merciful death, you had seen worse. There are worse things than death in this world. Death was just an easy escape.

You stood there for a moment, looking at him, wishing that the outcome would’ve been different. Were you feeling sorry for him? No, you were feeling sorry for yourself. You were a fifty year old vampire and in all your years as a hunter you’d killed hundreds of criminals, but you had never been able to save one.

People knew and people talked. Some said that you were cursed; you were the representative of death, the spawn of darkness. As a result, the council only gave you high profile cases, criminals that were too far gone to be saved. It was always death. The people you killed, they haunted your dreams. They would say to you, “What you do always comes back to you, there is no escape from this miserable life.” It was true, there was no escape. In your world there was only darkness, sorrow, fear, hate and death, always death.

You pulled out your cell phone and called the police. They would take care of the body. You bent down to leave a tracker near it, so they would find it easily. Lockham’s eyes were wide open, and you closed them. “At least one of us is at peace,” you whispered.

“You’re home!!” little Lilly exclaimed happily as you walked through the door. Your family was sitting in the dining room, having supper. You were the firstborn, the eldest of your father’s children. Your father was the Duke of Serafino, the City of Snake; one of the two warrior cities in the Vampire Kingdom. He was a nice man with brown eyes and hair, fair complexion, nicely built but a little short.

Your stepmother was a beauty; she had blue eyes, fair complexion, sharp features and hair spun like gold. Her children took after her, all cream and gold. They all hated you, except for the little one, Lilly.

“Yay, I’m home,” you said sarcastically. It was hard not to be nice to the little girl who looked at you with wonder in her eyes; she was so full of life. To no one’s wonder you had blood on your clothes and your darling step mother eyed it with a look in her eyes that said filthy. For you, it was like an invitation. You were planning to have supper in your room just like any other day, but you sat down at the end of the table. Your father was seated at his normal seat which belonged to the head of the family. The chair right across from him was the place for his wife, but that was your mother’s place and now it belonged to you.

Your mother had died in childbirth, you had her amber eyes and olive skin. Her name was Katina. People told you that she’d been a beauty; you had some of her pictures and sometimes you would feel her close beside you. It was a weird feeling, but not bad, not at all. You weren't a person who put her feelings on display, heck you hadn’t even cried in like twenty years! The only permanent feeling you had left was emptiness. You felt numb, like a shell, nothing inside, no love, no hope, not even sorrow after all these years. It felt like you were dead and it was true, your heart was dead.

“I would like some blood sausages Charles and don’t forget the wine,” you said cheerfully to the butler. He was a nice guy, always talked politely. You suspected that he was in love with the cook, Ms. Glen; it would be nice to have some love in this house which felt like living in a coffin.

“How was your day, Y/N?” Lilly asked, her cheerful eyes trained on you. You wondered for how long this child would be allowed to keep her innocence? When you’d been her age ...you shied away from that thought. Thoughts bring back memories and your memories were like old corpses, one would never want to dig them. Instead you took a bite of your sausage - man, they were delicious.

“It was almost nice, Bunny. I played who-can-catch-me with a friend and I won!!” Bunny was the nickname you had given her because she was never still. Everyone paused for a moment; it was really weird and funny at the same moment. You loved how all the eyes drifted to you and back to Lilly. She was beaming because you had won the game. You gave her a small smile.

“Oh that’s wonderful!! Where is your friend now?” Curious little kid, everyone paused again, including you this time.

“You see, we were playing on a bet. He lost the bet so he had to …go to another city.” You were very good at lying, but her beaming eyes and pure innocence made it hard. It was impossible to lie to that child.

“When would he come back?” she asked, and you sighed. Your plate was half empty and the looks everyone were giving you just killed the hunger inside. You stood up with the wine glass in my hand.

“Chew your food, Bunny,” you replied and left the room.

Your room was a mixture of blue and gold. The wallpapers were straight lines of different shades of blue. The furniture was of mahogany wood with fine carvings. The round rug was golden on the edge and blue in the middle, it looked like a pool of water. All the linen was blue and gold as well. Your bed was round and big with golden bedposts and curtains. You had a balcony of your own with a little fountain with a sculpture of a mother and her child. You had spent a lot of time taking care of the blue roses in your garden.

The front wall was covered with your music collection. You found peace in music, it was the only time when you could just forget everything and float. You quickly changed and crawled under the sheets, picking up the remote from the side table and pressing the play button. It was Mozart’s duo. What an amazing symphony! It helped you drift back to your happy memories.

Unlike your half brothers and sisters, you were raised in Tiria. It was a small town on the edge of Serafino. You were raised by the Countess of Tiria, a very kind woman. She had grace, beauty, and wealth but no children. She showered you with love and pretty gifts. You had excellent teachers for your education. You learned everything from crochet to fencing.

The manor there was old and beautiful. It had a beautiful garden and a whole forest around it. You would often go into the forest, just to explore it. Those were the happiest days of your life. Until your tenth birthday - the day the Countess died.

Just like the symphony, your thoughts turned darker. You’d been happy that day; the maids had told you that you were going to have a big birthday party. The Earl had been there for two weeks now. Your innocent mind had thought that he was there for your birthday. That morning you were out in the gardens, picking up some red roses for the Countess, it was something you did every day. You would just run into her room to put them on her side table, she loved that. You held the bunch of roses in your tiny hands, running through the house to her room. You were wearing a very pretty white dress with laces and pink ribbons. Your bare feet softly met the stone floor as you ran to her room and pushed the door, happily calling to her.

The Countess was there, lying on the floor in a pool of blood. There were bruises on her body and a sword, stabbed right through her heart. The handle of the sword was in the hands of the Earl. He twisted the blade with a cruel smile in his eyes. Then you screamed. The flowers falling from your hands, red roses into red blood - they were the same color. Your pretty white dress was now red. You backed away still screaming, leaving little red footprints on the floor. The maids came running to you and held you tight as you screamed and screamed. You don’t remember for how long you were screaming or what happened later.

You drifted off to sleep.

It was a beautiful forest. The trees were so thick that sunlight barely touched the ground and everything was covered in moss. You were standing there in front of a giant wolf. It wasn’t a werewolf, it smelled like a regular one but just giant, like a direwolf. It was growling at you, baring his teeth. You had no weapons with you, you double checked. You looked around for an escape, you could kill him with your teeth but they weren’t as sharp as they’d used to be. You looked at your nails, they were fragile. Heck! You were human!!

“Y/N, wake up!!” the wolf suddenly spoke in a girly voice. It didn’t make sense, really.

“Are you a girl?” you asked the wolf who was ready to kill you. Talking to an animal, guess you had finally lost your sanity.

“Y/N!!” Someone was shaking you, trying to wake you up without much success. Then you realized you were sleeping under a bunch of blankets and pillows. It was three in the morning; you could tell by the smell of the air. You peeked at the person who had dared to disturbed you. It was Lily.

“What is it, Bunny?” you asked sleepily. It was good she had practice understanding you while you sleep talked, if it was anyone else, they would’ve thought you were talking gibberish.

“I had a bad dream,” she said with a puppy face. You knew what she wanted; she wanted to sleep with you.

“Me too,” you replied and ran your tongue over your teeth, yup, still vampire. “Come here you,” you said, grabbing her and stuffing her under the pile of blankets and pillows. You loved a warm cozy place to sleep. You held her like a teddy bear and dozed off again. She was so soft in your arms and she held tight onto you. Protecting someone was a good feeling. You went back to sleep as if you had never woken up.

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