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bigbadripley · 1 year

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Chapter 16 - fue mejor

Marc Spector/Steven Grant(Jake Lockley?) x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

Warnings: Heavy language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma, prison/kidnapping/murder mention, heavy Jake flirtation, alcohol, smoking, **I won’t be exhaustive with the smut warnings. All you need to know is Steven gets laid, unprotected p in v, jealous!Marc** mention of previous sexual encounter (hate!sex, respectfully) Safe travels!***

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"Desde la primera vez que me probaste Duro dejarte ir cuando lo haces así Te hace sentir bueno cuando me Tratas tan mal, tú Me diste más de lo que te pedí Told you "I'm ready," so why won't you let me?" -"fue mejor" by Kali Uchis

The circle made with red marker on the calendar magnetized to the fridge beamed in Simone's eyes as she sipped her coffee. Every tool used to track days were marked the same, so she would remember as if one wasn't enough.

The day had come much faster than she anticipated, and she was anxious as hell about it. Red circles on calendars signified important dates for Simone, and this was a date she had been dreading for the last three months.

It was time for her quarterly visit to inmate JW-0290, John Walton.

She only took Walton as her patient three years ago, once the psych who worked there realized the inmate needed one-on-one visits. That was when his lawyer called Simone, and she took the job, thinking a visit every three months wouldn't be so bad.

Every time she saw Walton, she left with a feeling of unease. The man gave her the jeebies, and she soon realized that though he had committed a horrible crime, he didn't need to be in prison.

He needed to be evaluated by a team of doctors in a mental facility with around-the-clock treatment. Not just her on a quarterly visit.

Simone took the final sip of coffee from her floral mug and sat it in the sink, heading out for the day. On red circle days, she never deviated from her routine, keeping everything in order from when she woke up to when she left the prison like it was the Ides of March.

This included taking a cab to her destination instead of her car in case she needed a drink to calm her nerves afterward. There was never a time when she didn't need something stiff after meeting with Walton, so this also became part of the routine.

She lit a cigarette the moment she stepped out of the heavy metal doors of her stonewalled building, but the cab she called soon came into view. She felt ready to tackle this and unprepared all at once, running through everything in her head nervously.

Pen. Pad. Phone. Apartment key. Smokes. Wallet.

Everything she needed was on her person, so she was ready to head out. Upon opening the door to the cab, she slipped into the backseat and smoothed out her gray dress pants upon placing herself into the leather cushion.

Before Simone could speak, she looked up and saw a familiar face in a newsboy cap turn to greet her. The last time she saw the men who shared this face was during a moment of weakness a week before after receiving a come hither text and feeling a need for an orgasm that wasn't caused by her own hand. She had not seen or spoken to them before that, not since their fight, and hadn't seen or spoken to them since the random booty call.

She missed them but couldn't express it, even if it seemed immature and petty.

Seeing Jake was not on the agenda today, just like seeing Marc or Steven wasn't. It nearly spooked her out of the seat her amble ass sat in.

"Oh, what the hell." She said under her breath as soon as the face registered in her brain. A wide smile spread across the lower half of Jake's face, seeming genuinely happy to see her, having not seen her since the night they supposedly slept together. The night everything seemed to cave in around her.

"What's up, doll? Where ya headed?" He asked, seeming entirely unphased by her presence, unlike her. She provided the address, and the gears turned in Jake's brain as the location came to him. "The prison?" He ticked an eyebrow upward.

"Work," Simone answered shortly. She wanted to keep things as professional as possible and make as little conversation with Jake as possible for fear of saying too much. She already couldn't bare to see his hopelessly handsome face.

Jake nodded once and turned back around, putting the car in drive. "Ah, whatcha do?" He asked, peering at her from the rearview. He secretly hoped she hadn't told him before, and it slipped his mind.

"I'm a psychiatrist." She answered, staring down at her rosy red fingertips.

Ah, so she's a doctor. Jake thought before he took note of her unamused tone and inability to look at him. "Shit, did you tell me that already? I'm sorry." He apologized before she could give an answer to his question. She had to have told him that already, and that's why she wasn't too keen on looking at him. Simone expelled a nervous laugh,

"No, I haven't told you." She informed.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed them as Jake tried to put together why her usual energy was suddenly low like it was. It had to be because they fucked, right? "Don't have to be so awkward, Chi-town. We only woke up next to each other one time." He finally spoke up, trying to bring the mood up a little.

From the rearview mirror, Jake saw a hint of a grin in the corners of her mouth. He was chipping away at whatever was bugging her; he just had to keep at it. She exhaled sharply and snickered,

"It's not that. I'm just a little peeved that you know my name but keep calling me Chi-town." She said, finally bringing her eyes up to look at his in the mirror through her thick eyelashes.

There she is. Jake thought. He took a second to admire the look before responding. "Sorry, Simone. See? I remembered!"

"But you can't remember that beautiful night we shared?" Simone teased, followed by an eye-roll, genuinely amused by him.

So much for professionalism. She thought to herself.

Though it was clear she didn't remember either, Jake was surprised at her ability to crack a joke about the situation. It made him wonder what had her down in the dumps, to begin with. His mind wandered back to that night in the quiet, wishing he could conjure the memory and cursed himself for being unable to. What he could remember, however, was Simone calling him that name again, and a pinch of jealousy struck him.

That's right. Marc. The boyfriend.

"So, I'm guessin' I don't have to worry about that boyfriend of yours, eh?" He asked, wanting to confirm if he needed to quit while he was ahead to avoid any more complicated entanglements with a spoken-for woman. Exquisite or not, Jake had morals.

"Nope. Not with him anymore." Simone answered, crossing one clothed leg over the other and directing her gaze out the window. She wasn't lying but needed to remind herself who she was speaking to. Even if the voice and eyes weren't identical to Spector's, the man still walked around in his skinsuit and had ties to the Egyptian god that terrorized her once-best boys.

"Bad news bears for him, lucky me though. Maybe you could refresh my memory of that beautiful night we had." Jake said, tuning his voice to make the line seem like a joke, knowing good and well he would have no issue if the opportunity arose now that he knew she was single.

Simone could feel his eyes burning her from the mirror, prodding her to look at him. It was a good joke, a great one, even. It even garnered a laugh and a blush from her, which would have stopped his heart if he wasn't driving.

"Pick your battles, Bronx." She replied, turning his hometown into a nickname as he did to her, meeting him in the mirror again without a second thought. His eyes were quick to dart to hers and go from warm-natured to dark, serious, and nearly lustful as they locked on to herself and refused to let go.

"Sabes que mi nombre, muñeca." He growled, telling her: you know my name, doll and asserting that he caught her nickname. Jake wouldn't have minded if it wasn't for her affinity to call him everything but his actual name. He wanted to hear her say it, not Bronx, Marc, or anything else.

The way Jake looked at her and the tone of his voice made Simone quake internally, and her throat dried up, every bit of liquid in her body falling lower. She uncrossed her legs and pressed her knees together as close as possible. She wouldn't show weakness, not today.

"Sí, Jake." She said before snapping her eyes away from the mirror and back to the window. She gave him what he wanted without the expense of falling apart, and it was all she could spare today.

It was music to his ears, though.

The short ride that remained was silent and consisted of limited eye contact until they got to the guard gate of the prison." Welp, here we are." Jake announced, putting the car in park out of the way of entry so Simone could get checked in on foot. She felt her nerves return as she pulled money from her wallet and handed it shakily to him.

"Keep the change." She insisted, once again giving him way more than she owed. Jake held the money in his hand momentarily and turned halfway around in his seat,

"Can I get a kiss as a tip instead?" He asked, wagging his eyebrow to playfully entice her. She let out a similar snicker to before and shook her head,

"Not happening today."

It was the answer he expected, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Regardless, he wanted to see her again.

"Alright, well, we gotta stop meetin' like this, Chi-town. Gimme your number."

Simone looked at the time on her phone and realized she needed to go, but figured she would entertain the man one last time. She pulled her notepad out of her bag with her pen, scribbled her personal number on the corner of a blank page, and tore the piece off, tucking it into his hand. "Gotta jet." She said quickly, opening the door to the cab.

Jake skimmed the phone number just as well as he did the money she paid him, marveling at how neat it looked. "Adiós, hermosa." He called out. He got one more good smile from her before she shut the door and took off toward the guard gate.

In the most ungentlemanly fashion, his eyes drifted straight to her shapely ass in the gray dress pants she wore. Professional, tasteful, sophisticated, but thick as oatmeal.

Hate to see her go, but I love to watch her walk away. Jake thought to himself before finally pulling away from the prison.

Simone went through all the usual steps when getting past prison security: identification, shoes off, bag in the box, metal detector, then clear to pass. As always, she was accompanied by officer Bradley through the prison as they trekked to the block they held Walton on. He had highly thick eyebrows that clashed with his shiny, bald head and had a large build, but his voice didn't match his hardened look at all.

"Your man's been in solitary. You caught him on a good day, luckily." The officer told her. She heard this nearly every time she came around, so she didn't know the difference between Walton's good days and bad. She supposed his bad days were what landed him in solitary. "I've got money bet he'll be back in there before the week's end."

"He's a sociopath, Bradley. He doesn't mind solitude, so it doesn't feel like punishment."

"Gotta follow protocol still, Doc. That's why you come around, though, I reckon. You'll get him out of our hair."

"My reports are only half the job. His attorney has to be the convincing one."

They came upon a large metal door to a room with thick glass windows lined with wire. Simone's patient was inside, cuffed, and sitting at a table bolted to the floor. "As always, give us a shout if you need anything, doc." Officer Bradley said as he opened the visiting area for her to enter.

Clutching her pad and bag close, she walked in with steady breathing and her chin up as if the inmate could smell fear. He always looked exactly the same: receding hairline with gray patches, a lazy eye, scrawny but tall, and the worst teeth she'd ever seen. Still, he greeted her politely.

"Morning, Doctor," Walton said with his heavily posh accent. Simone gave him a smile and good morning in return before placing her notepad in front of her and turning on the voice recorder app on her phone. She uncapped the plastic pen she kept specifically for these visits due to Walton being triggered by pen clicking, and thus began their session.

As if they had never left, Steven woke up in bed just mere hours after Jake drove Simone to the appointment. He scanned the room, stretched his limbs, then called out to Marc to see if he would answer.

He didn't. It had been the same since he came out the week before to bring in Simone, and though her meeting them was nice, it was laced with her true intentions the second she walked through the door: she wasn't ready to fix things. She didn't know if it could be fixed.

Simone slept with them, separately as always, but she and Marc exchanged words before he had her. Marc shut down again after that, thinking it would improve things, but it only caused him to miss her more.

Of course, Steven also missed her and tried to introduce the conversation after they made love, but she had nothing to say. Marc didn't take kindly to this, unsure why she wouldn't help them figure out how to make it work.

They tried on their own for two weeks and couldn't figure out anything to get a conversation going with Jake. He was completely closed off and unaware of them, just as they were of him. Everyone was in limbo, just like their relationship with Simone.

It was a pretty heated argument, the kind you only get when two people love each other but can't stand to be around one another due to some sort of quarrel or irreconcilable differences. Simone said Marc and Steven lied, but Marc disagreed even though Steven apologized. The disagreement quickly became a power struggle that became what would only be described as hatesex. They were frustrated and took it out intimately.

Then, Simone was gone again just as quickly as she came back. She was tired of fighting, and so was Marc, so he also left. This left Steven to try and figure things out on his own.

Marc was in shambles, just as he used to be when they fought as kids. Only during those times was everything temporary. They would give each other the silent treatment for a few days and then return to it like nothing happened. They're adults now, so now it seems permanent.

It felt like she was slipping through his fingers, and he thought she was in his grasp when he texted her, but he was wrong. Infatuation was a hateful thing, sometimes, and though he was happy to have her body, mind, soul, and everything in between under him that night, it felt dirty to let her leave after. Like they could do nothing but fight and use each other.

They refused to wash the sheets because they smelled like her still. Kept her toothbrush in the bathroom. Dreamt of her. Day dreamt of her. Fucked their own hand at the thought.

It did make them feel good that she stopped by, at least. She could get another conquest if she wanted. She still chose to come over. This meant there was a chance. Steven wasn't going to let that pass him by.

The decision to go to her apartment was his alone. Marc wanted to stay back, had it in his mind that she would come when she was ready, and feared bugging her would only further her disdain for him. He wanted Moni to miss him.

Last I checked, she was the one who left. Why are we even here? He thought as Steven knocked on the door. In a twist, they got Joyce, who looked like she had just arrived home.

"Oh, Simone's not here-" Joyce cut herself off, squinting and studying his face to find something that told her the name of the person she was speaking to.

"Steven. And I just wanted to see how she was doing." He told her, smiling nervously. Joyce snapped like she came to that conclusion herself,

"Yep, Steven, the gentle one." She said. Steven found it touching that she referred to him that way. Marc, on the other hand, wondered what he would be. "Simone's on her 'field trip' day." She added air quotes, "I'll let her know you came by, though."

After her session, Simone realized she was correct in getting a cab again: she needed a drink but decided to head home for it this time and shower. She pulled her phone out and called the company, then remembered the last couple of taxis she'd called.

"Can I request to not get Jake Lockley this time?" She asked the man on the other end. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the banter, but she wasn't sure if she had the willpower to hold herself back upon seeing his face again.

"Lucky for you, Lockley's off the clock right now. Why? Need to file a complaint?"

"Oh, no, just keep running into the guy. Wanted to see if that was something I could do. Send whoever."

They did send someone she'd never met or seen, which was refreshing. She enjoyed a decently quiet ride home, thinking of how the session went before her mind returned to the fact that Jake was off the clock.

Does that automatically mean Marc and Steven are on the clock, so to speak? Probably not. Jake doesn't just pop out to drive his taxi and leave when he's done. He's gotta be up to more than that.

When Simone got home, she dropped her bag and let out an audible sigh to mirror how she felt: exhausted.

"I take it, it went normal." She heard Joyce call out from the living room. Simone sauntered over to get her roommate in view,

"The man's not fit for a prison, but they won't listen to me. He has a laundry list of issues, but his clear-cut sociopathy should have been enough to send him to a facility instead of supermax. Maybe even The Raft... his lawyer failed him."

"Are you excusing his behavior?" Joyce asked, playing devil's advocate. Simone snickered, thinking that would be an impossible task. The man was dreadful.

"Absolutely not. It's not like Walton snapped one day and decided to kidnap those girls. He had it in him the whole time, but his brain needs to be looked at by a team, not just me. He has someone new on his prison hit list whenever I see him. Doesn't write it down. It's all memorized." She explained, sounding amazed. The man was polite, mild-mannered, and probably wouldn't draw much attention to himself in public on the outside.

"Are you on that list?" Joyce asked with a laugh. Simone spotted the bottle of tequila in the china cabinet on the far side of the room,

"You know I am. Every time I visit, he says I need to see him more." She shuddered, grabbing a crystal glass from the cupboard before walking to the cabinet. The thought crossed her mind as she realized she would have little time for her usual patients if she spent more time seeing the inmate. That would spell bad news. That would put more high-risks like Laura in jeopardy. "I need a drink."

She didn't like tequila much at room temperature, but she felt there wasn't any time to chill it. Joyce scooted to the edge of her chair and leaned forward, studying Simone as she poured the clear liquid into the glass. "You've been drinking a lot more lately. You alright?"

"I'm fine. Just keep thinking about a lot of things. Laura, mostly."

"Go see her."

"I can't. I can't shake the feeling her family doesn't want me there." She admitted, taking a good swig of the liquor and impressing Joyce by expertly keeping a straight face. There was a brief silence between them that was only interrupted by a sipping and gulping sound as Simone finished off the two fingers of alcohol before pouring another finger. Finally, Joyce spoke up,

"Steven came by after you."

Simone put the cap back on the bottle slowly after hearing this, realizing it was the answer to her question to herself from earlier.

"You sure it was Steven?" She asked.

"The English one." She confirmed. Simone nodded quietly and took her glass to the loveseat next to Joyce's chair. "It was awfully sweet, actually. He just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Yeah." Simone sat, placing the glass against her temple and silently staring into space.

What a fuckin' sweetheart.

"You've got that look again. The 'I should call him' look." Joyce called her out. Simone removed the glass from her head, wishing the liquid was cold again so it would actually feel good on her face.

"Shit, look who's playing psych now?" She said with a laugh. "What a fuckin' nightmare."

As for the man himself, Steven sat in his flat, cross-legged on the floor, with a handheld mirror propped in front of him by a bunch of books he'd already read. He stared into it with intention, trying to summon this Jake fellow like he was Bloody Mary.

Marc was the only one around, and he knew it. There would be no luck this time, not without Moni. He felt it in his bones.

"He's not gonna come out. We've tried this." Marc said, speaking to Steven through his reflection. Steven's neck went lax, and his head fell forward with a groan,

"Don't be a pessimist. It worked for us!"

"Because you started digging, I could snake my way into your consciousness. We can't do that with Jake if he believes he's the only one and isn't trying to fight for the body."

"So we would need Simone."

"Exactly."

They sat quietly for a moment before there was a slight knocking at the door. It was nearly too gentle for them to hear, and if they were still talking, they probably wouldn't have.

Steven stood up and walked to the door, thinking having a visitor at this time of day was strange. He opened the door and, like he summoned her instead of Jake or Bloody Mary, Simone stood waiting. His heart nearly leaped from his chest.

"Hey, Stevie." She greeted him with a nervous grin. She was twiddling her thumbs, clearly regretting coming by now that she was actually here. Regardless, she was happy to see him, and the feeling was mutual. He stepped aside to let her come in, and she proceeded, looking around aimlessly at the clutter, trying to find something to focus on. "Joyce said you came by..." She started but trailed off when she turned to face him.

Steven perked up, thinking his efforts wouldn't amount to her coming over.

Maybe change is in the air. He thought to himself.

Marc, on the other hand, remained unconvinced. After their last interaction, he doubted they would reconcile so soon, though he wished they would.

"I just wanted to check on you. A lot's been happening, and I'll do my best to help." Steven responded. Simone found him sweet, and Marc found him to be a suckup.

She wasn't drunk, out of her mind, or anything that would impair her judgment. She just needed to feel his lips after the day she had. After all, he said he would do his best to help. She approached him steadily, not rushing or in desperation, but she got to him and interlocked her hands over his neck as she gently brought her lips to his.

Simone's mind raced, still enjoying kissing and being around him, remembering why she refused to go to anyone else no matter how mad she was, regardless of whether she didn't plan on getting back on track with their relationship. They were adults, and her intentions, though devious, were clear.

"Delightful. Undress and get on the bed, sweetheart." She said with a tender voice as she pulled from the kiss. Steven does precisely what he's told to do. First, the shirt, pants, and boxers, and then on the bed. He was sitting up with his legs straight out in front of him, waiting as she removed her own clothes. He watched, interested in her every move until he started to stroke himself.

"Don't touch, Stevie." She demanded. Steven quickly moved his hand back to his side, realizing the error.

"Sorry." He said with a slight blush. She placed her hand on his chest and guided him to lie back.

"Just don't let it happen again, or I'll have to tie you up. Understood?" She told him, still holding her tender tone. Steven nodded,

"Yes, darling." He answered attentively. Simone found that Steven responds best to gentle authority. She takes extra care to do everything she does and says as delicately as possible to match his soft nature.

As she watched his kind eyes, her clit ached like it was being teased, and yet she hadn't been touched yet. It was no wonder she took to the handsome man what felt like forever ago, just as well as he took to her.

She straddled overtop of his painfully hard cock, allowing him only to feel the wetness between her folds as they blanketed him. This part always drove him nuts, her taking her time, but he knew he needed to resist her teasing.

Simone began slowly grinding against him, only moving slightly, but the friction, paired with how soaked she was, did enough for her. Steven, though enjoying himself, couldn't help but want to pick up the pace. He was impatient, needy even. He wanted to be inside her but knew that Simone would give him what he wanted when she was ready and if he was good.

Steven knew how to be good for her, yet his impatience got the best of him, and he gripped her hips and began pressing his pelvis into her harder, trying to get more of her to wrap around him.

For Simone, though this felt fantastic, it simply wouldn't do. "Tsk, tsk, Stevie baby. You know better." She said, still gentle with her tone but harshly pushing on his chest to keep him steady. Steven immediately felt guilty for getting greedy and knew what came next. He lost his self-control, and he had to be restrained.

She delicately took his wrists and lifted them above his head. She wasn't using force, but he knew he needed to be punished, so he allowed it to happen. She found the leather binds they kept attached to the headboard and put them around his wrists, making it nearly impossible for him to touch her now.

"I guess I deserve this, yeah?" He asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear her talk to him more. He loved her voice. Simone smiled down at him, making his heart flutter with her beauty.

"Yes, you do. I was going to let your slip up before slide so you could touch me, too. I guess not now, hmm?" She said, finishing the sentence with a hum of pleasure as she continued rolling her hips. "I was going to let you put your hands all over me. You would have gotten to feel my tits," She continued, speaking more breathy now. Steven's eyes drifted closed, imagining it as she told and massaged her clit against him. "I would have let you hold my thighs, run your hands over my ass..." She trailed off as she watched him lose focus under her.

Simone's wetness coated the underside of his cock, and the feelings and thoughts running through his head put him a few steps ahead of her. She knew he was having difficulty holding back even though he was trying his best to be her object of pleasure. She tested him a bit more.

"You like it when I rub my pussy on you like this?" She asked him. Steven groaned at her words, thinking about how pretty she made those dirty words sound.

"Yes, love." He answered, gritting his teeth. Simone picked up the pace a bit as she felt the fire build inside her, inching closer to orgasm as she watched Steven's face. He was apparently hanging on by a thread from the twitching of his thighs under her. He was ready to cum, and that simply wouldn't do.

Simone lifted herself off him and sat at his side, examining the dribbles of precum leaking onto his belly. "You're too close, sweetheart. We can't have that."

"I'm sorry, I can't help it." He apologized, subconsciously pulling at the restraints, aching to have something on him again. She loved when he got like this.

"It's okay. I know you can't. We'll just have to work on that, won't we?" She asked, implying what her next event was. Steven hated edging, but he hated coming too soon even more. He wanted Simone to use him as long as she needed to. Typically, when he can last until she comes one time, he gets rewarded with his own.

Simone walked on her knees to the top of his body, gingerly running her fingers through his tousled hair. Steven stared lovingly at her, wishing he had her to do this all the time, hoping she would come home. To be closer to her again was something Steven pined for. He knew Marc also did, but god damn, was that man dead-set on making sure she crawled back first.

"Ready?" She whispered politely. Steven nodded frantically, excited for what would come next. Simone gave him a long kiss on his forehead before she turned around and placed her left knee on his other side, backing herself against his stubble. She leaned forward in doing so and wrapped her hand around his cock, feeling it twitch in response to being touched again.

Steven started rolling his tongue over her sensitive nub with delight, happy to make her feel good as she stroked him slowly with her hand. She sped up as he sped up, hoping that the other would get them across the finish line.

Each time Simone sensed that Steven was getting too close, she would stop and drop his cock, causing him to hum with frustration as he sucked and nibbled her. She was about to cum, but she couldn't let him have relief first.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You're doing so good." She moaned as his tongue circled faster. She had left his hard-on alone, focusing on her orgasm as he coaxed it out of her. "Yes, Stevie, yes!" She exclaimed as she was on the cusp of completion.

Steven was confident now that he was doing a good job, lips and chin covered in her sweet juices as she clenched her thighs tighter over his ears and climaxed with a fury of bad words that only she could make angelic. The sweet sounds made him smile under her proudly.

Simone got off his face, trying to hide her wobbling to keep the guise of strength she had. Sitting back at his side, she could see the gorgeous, bound Englishman's smile, slick with her wetness, and felt she owed him a compliment.

"Fantastic job, sweetheart. Are you ready to feel the mess you just made of me?" She asked. Steven nodded with delight, excited to see what she had in store. Simone reached for his binds and undid them before guiding him to sit up. She pressed her breasts against his chest and sat slowly down his length with a hiss, adjusting to him on entry.

A heavy exhale escaped Steven, finally feeling her warmth around him. Simone wrapped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him as she slowly rocked her hips. Kissing Steven was always gentle; he wanted to ensure he did it right each time. Kissing was like a talent of his, consistently in sync as his tongue explored Simone's.

Steven's hands caressed the soft skin of her back, moving with each move she made. Up, down, swivel, rolling her pelvis to feel him push against every spot that made her unbutton little by little. She pulled away from the kiss when she felt his heart beat faster as he drew himself to climax.

"Not yet, sweetheart." She demanded, still moving her hips up and down, in and out. She was close, but not nearly as close as he was.

"I don't think I can hold it much longer, love," Steven admitted. He did everything he could to keep the pleasure down as she denied him release. Simone grabbed the sides of his face and pressed her forehead to his, prompting him to look into her eyes,

"Wait for me. I'm almost there." She choked out, moving faster now. His tip rutted against her g-spot repeatedly when she pushed herself into this position. She started to feel the build spill over, coming unglued again.

"Cum now, Stevie. Now!" She cried out, feeling the climax rush out of her.

Steven felt her grip pulsate around his cock. That, along with her command, caused him to pull her closer to him as he erupted into her. Simone's movements grew shakey as her knees grew weak and weary of riding, so Steven did his best to pick up where she couldn't to finish riding out their orgasms, thrusting himself into her a couple of times before they came to completion.

Steven fell backward onto the bed, taking Simone with him and pulling her in tighter. "You're proper gorgeous, darling." He complimented, burying his face in her neck. She smiled and kissed his forehead,

"Thank you, sweetheart. You're handsome as the devil and far more polite." She said.

Steven trailed tiny kisses along her neck, enjoying the snuggle while he got the chance to. It made him wish he could stay this way a bit longer, drift off in her arms, and wake up with her again. It had been so long since they did that. Simone wanted the same thing.

There was only one way to really get to the bottom of her feelings, and she knew it.

"I might be able to help with the Jake issue." She said, breaking the peaceful silence. As if Marc had been in control the whole time, he was the one who responded.

"Why the sudden change?"

"Because it's bonkers, and I'm worried. No matter how I feel about you, I want you to be okay." She said, pulling out of the embrace now that Steven wasn't in front. She didn't want to fight anymore. "But I'm going to need your full cooperation, Marc. No matter how crazy my methods may seem." She told him sternly. Marc nodded,

"Of course. Anything."

8 notes · View notes

ettellessa · 2 years

Text

I was writing something this morning and midway I realized it fits Danny and Sam well enough for a smol fanfic.

Trope: writer and serial killer get matched based on similar interests.

The Phantom Killer

Sam Manson is a goth girl with varius dark interests —horror movies, metal, edgy makeup, etc—, who is recently diving into the occult —witchcraft, demonology, divination—.

While interacting on forums about necromancy and ghosts, she meets a boy with a lot of questions she can theorically answer —what demons are best for what purpose, what offerings are better, is the metal background music necessary?—

Later, Sam is going through some old classic horror movies and discussing serial killers, and there he is again.

SpaceGhost: hi

LocalMorticia: u again?

SpaceGhost: any more wisdom you wanna share w me?

LocalMorticia: on serial killers? not rly

SpaceGhost: why here then?

LocalMorticia: trynna learn for a story im writing

SpaceGhost: maybe i can help u

LocalMorticia: lets see

LocalMorticia: any clue on how could I effectively turn a person into a functional puppet with strings?

SpaceGhost: first of all, if you wont kill them, then break their joints and attach the strings to the wrists, the elbows, the shoulders, the knees, the hips and the top of the head.

SpaceGhost: if youre gonna kill them, then let the rigor mortis do its thing first and then break the joints post mortem

SpaceGhost: well not you, your character haha

LocalMorticia: you know a lot

SpaceGhost: a lot of movies and videogames end up teaching you smth

LocalMorticia: thx

LocalMorticia: ill be back w more questions

SpaceGhost: ill be waiting

Question after question, they start video calling. Sam is surprised to see how cute SpaceGhost turns out to be —or Danny, that's his name. She hates to have these shallow girl thoughts, buy she can't help it.

Weeks after the calls, they agree to meet because they live in the same city.

The boy is shy and a little awkward, he seems to be very sick and fragile, but she doesn't comment on it. He knows a lot about her interestes, even if he couldn't look more casual himself. He is a bit of a geek, maybe that is why he is so pale.

There's a serial killer on the loose in Amity Park. Someone has been killing young men and putting their bodies in weird satanic altar-like places: pentagrams, circles, septagrams, candles and weird incriptions. There is always a green substance on the scene, but nobody knows what it is.

Sam notices these crimes deeply upset Danny. He goes quiet and sometimes even shakes when he sees them.

A few months later, they share their first kiss. She is pretty sure that he disappeared for a split second in the kiss. But that's impossible, isn't it?

The murders are increasing, whoever does them is very good, the police has absolutely no clue and there are no fingerprints, hair or anything they can use to track the killer. It's as though he were a ghost, which earns him a name on the media: the Phantom Killer.

Danny is doing a lot better, he is tanner and more energetic. He is brimming with life.

The months go on, Danny and Sam are getting a little serious: this isn't some flirtation anymore. Is he going to get on one knee? Is she going to say yes? Is 23 too young or too old?

Danny disappears for weeks sometimes, when he is back, he always looks healthier and stronger. He barely resembles the boy she met on dark forums.

The murders are still happening, so the Mayor imposes a curfew on town. Danny seems displeased for this, but Sam couldn't care less: he just moved in with her, it's perfect for the cozy times she hopes to spend with him.

It's only a few weeks later that she begins to notice he leaves the bed sometimes in the middle of the night. Once, she followed to the living room to catch him in his computer, fully focused on whatever he's reading. She trusts him, but she can't help to wonder.

Months into this dynamic, she realizes that he drugs her once or twice in the month —unusual nights when she sleeps like a baby and he casually brings her his "special Fenton hot chocolate" before bed. She doesn't immediately confront him, because she wants to know what he is up to.

The next time he brings him the mug —the special Snow White Poisoned Apple mug he gave her for their first anniversary, of all things— she only pretends to drink it, spiting it on the sink as soon as he leaves.

In the middle of the night, around 3:00 AM, he gets up and leaves. She listens to him getting dressed, watches him walk away —peeking through the living room window— and get lost into the night. Sam follows him wearing only her night robe and carrying her phone and am electric gun, just in case someone tries to hurt her. Definitely not for Danny.

She witnesses in the cool air of the night, how he speaks with Dash Some-Big-Last-Name, their local sports star A.K.A. the village idiot. They go inside an abandoned building.

There is barely any light inside, but she can see a lot of flying shadows and hear many gutural voices. What is going on in there?

After what feels like hours, Danny comes out of the building, alone, looking tired and wearing a different outfit. She rushes back home as stealthy as she can, and makes it to the bed barely fifteen minutes before he's back, sleeping by her side.

Three weeks later, Dash is found dead on one of the altars.

Sam doesn't want to believe it. but the same routine repeats another three times. He is smart, he never waits the same amount of days between drugging her and putting his new victim on display. But why do all the bodies look so dry on the altar, even when they appear only a day after the goes hunting?

The fifth time she follows him, he finally notices.

Sam tries to get closer to the place he entered with his victim —this time a ruined factory— to see who or what are the shadows and deep voices. When she peeks through the window, the shadows are still shadows, but the voices are much clearer: they are giving orders. making deals, offering new things.

And Danny, he is discussing with them: he wants them to give him back what they promised, he says he has given them what was bargained for and the deal his parents made is done.

The shadows deny, they demand he must give them his woman and the deal will be through. Danny keeps arguing that his parents made a deal for the lives of 25 men his age, never a woman. Suddenly, he screams like a demon, his figure disappearing into a shadow that subjugates the others with a wail that could only come from the depths of hell. Sam covers her ears, horrifyed.

And that is when he sees her. He goes back to human, running after her. She fights him like a banshee, trying to run away or reach her taser. She reaches the weapon, but Danny easily takes it away. She faints.

When she wakes up, she is in her bed, with Danny resting by her side. He caresses her cheek, he says he thought he was done and safe to make a normal life with her, but he isn't. He has to keep giving them the lives of young men if he won't give them hers.

He explains that his parents made a deal for his life, he was a fragile baby and too close to death. The shadows gave him the ability to absorb the life of the ones he kills. Be tried with animals, but they life force is way too weak, so he will have to do this as long as he wants to live.

Danny kisses her forehead, confessing that he was going to let himself die instead of keeping on with the horror. But not now, not now that he has found love.

Sam tries to find the will to hate him, to be afraid, to murder him herself to stop him. She fails.

Idk if this is a fanfic or an outline for one, but i loved the idea. And I know that Sam is more likely to become a serial killer than Danny, but Danny would never be on dark forums out of fun.

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backtothestart02 · 2 years

Text

The Flash and Iris West-Allen: A Cover Story by Taylor Downs - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: A request. First chap is Taylor's POV, but after that it switches to WA for a chap or two. I hope you enjoy.

For @/Nicollz

...

Synopsis: Taylor begins to suspect her boss is cheating on her husband with the Flash and makes it her top priority to find out.

...

Chapter 1 -

Taylor lifted her head from her computer, overhearing the joyous reunion she’d gotten the head’s up was going to occur in her boss’s office earlier that day. Flash had just zipped in seconds earlier, and the two in the expected reunion were now walking out of CCC Media, all smiles. It was perfect timing for Taylor to approach Iris for her new story idea. She had a feeling she was going to love it.

She was two steps from entering the open office when she witnessed a moment between the Flash and her boss. It wasn’t totally unusual; and after all, they did sort of have a history, since she’d been the first to really report on his sightings on her blog nearly a decade prior.

Still, she was a married woman – and a happily married one from what Taylor had been able to tell. From what she’d found out via Allegra when she’d been curious from a prior perceived flirtation with the Flash, Barry and Iris knew each other even longer than she and the Flash did. They grew up together in the same house for half their childhood after Barry lost his mother and his father was wrongly convicted for her murder. So, they were incredibly close long before they were romantically involved.

And you could see it when they were together, the closeness. There was an easy flirtation even there, as there should be between a young married couple.

Still, Taylor couldn’t push past the interactions Iris shared with the Flash. The banter, the smiles, the suggestive gazes. Was it all in her head or was there something really going on?

So, after the Flash had left, Taylor abandoned the brilliant story idea she’d been waiting an hour to tell Iris and bounced into her office with another topic in mind.

“Hey, Taylor, you can come in now,” Iris said knowingly, settling down behind her desk.

Taylor offered up a polite smile.

“Hi, Iris.”

“You got a hot lead on a new story?”

“Kind of.”

“I’m all ears.”

“How well do you know the Flash?”

Iris raised her eyebrows.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I just…happened to notice, journalist that I am, how close the two of you are, how friendly.”

Iris stood back up.

“Okay, let me stop you right there. I love my husband.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I would never do anything to hurt him, nor would I want to. The Flash and I are strictly professional. We’re friendly because he appreciates how I was one of the first to advocate for him, and I appreciate how he protects the city and occasionally drops a story in my lap. But that’s it. Barry and I, we’re good.”

“Got it.”

“You want to go grab that other story then?”

“Yep.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be waiting. Real story this time.”

Taylor backed out of the office, mildly embarrassed, and went to get her other story idea. In the back of her head, though, she kept an open mind about any interaction between the Flash and Iris. As much as she craved to be the boss’s favorite, there was a story here, and she was going to find out what it was.

…

A week later, there was a loud boom from outside, and the ground shook.

“Earthquake?” Taylor turned to ask Allegra, but the girl was already running out the door, which told her the Flash was on it, and she’d likely been notified.

It was cool knowing your co-worker that you’d instinctively wanted to hate was actually a superhero in disguise.

Still, it did suck in a time like this.

Iris burst out of her office and headed for the door too.

“Wait. Are we all going?” Taylor asked, ready to zip out as wel.

“No,” Iris said, turning to face them. “Stay in here, keep your heads down. Could be a dangerous meta.”

“What about you?”

“I’m the boss. I’m going to see if there’s a story here.”

Seemed unfair, but Taylor let it slide.

She also bolted when the terror outside seemed to have subsided, but Iris still hadn’t come back.

Taylor ran out into the street, searching for her boss, and boy, oh, boy, did she ever find her. She and the Flash were making eyes at each other in the back alley. Iris was definitely checking his ass out, and he was actually blushing in response.

When Iris turned to look up though, Taylor had disappeared and run back into the office. When questioned by the others, she held up her hands in defense.

“Say nothing to Iris. I just got a great story.”

The other two rolled their eyes, but she knew they hadn’t told a soul because a few days later when her story was nearly complete, Iris hadn’t called in to see her once.

There was one thing that didn’t make her story quite as scandalous as say TMZ might make it, and that was the fact that no actual cheating had been witnessed. Sure, they openly flirted and checked each other out, but who was to say Barry didn’t do the same with the check out girl at a convenience store or the cashier at Big Belly Burger?

Iris wasn’t doing anything wrong, according to what she had documented. That didn’t mean she wasn’t doing it though. It just meant she hadn’t been caught.

Taylor put the story aside for a little longer and focused on stories that Iris would take stock in as a distraction. She was close though. She could feel it in her bones.

…

Two months later, Taylor burst into the office after her lunch break, practically shaking at what she’d just seen.

She got some odd looks from her co-workers, but she didn’t address them, and so they went back to their work.

Finally, though, she could type up a headline for her article.

THE FLASH: SEDUCING CCC MEDIA’S OWNER ON THE SIDE?

Maybe it could use work, but it was a good start, and she had a picture to go with it at last.

That’s right. She had caught her boss swapping spit with the scarlet speedster himself behind the building. They looked to be going at it pretty hot and heavy too. She could’ve walked right up to them, and she doubted her boss would have pulled away.

Her only problem now was sending this to print would mean getting it past Iris. She’d have to send the story to another station, completely violating the trust of everyone in the office.

Taylor nibbled on her bottom lip.

Really, there was only one person who needed to see these pictures, and she’d completely lost her moral compass if she didn’t see who that was.

She needed to go to Iris’ husband, CSI Barry Allen.

#taylor downs #westallen #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #loooong title i'm not typing out lmao #chapter 1

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ngno-closed · 2 years

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"i didn't kill them!" you scream in the empty interrogation room, hands shackled to the desk. the jammer in the ceiling blinking down like an all-seeing eye has made your world unfathomably empty. there are no bulletins, no messages, no games or advertisements, nor invitations to the latest speakeasy to fill your mind. you are painfully aware of how cold you are, the discomfort of the hard chair, and of the man entering the room like a ghost. you continue babbling to him, but he pays no attention to you, opening his suitcase and taking out a set of scales and a single, pure-white feather. without a word he reaches into your chest and pulls out your still beating heart, something that shouldn't be possible, something that should have killed you, but it hasn't. the scales sink, and he sighs. "you cannot lie to me." and when he leaves, you forget that he was ever there.

NAME Anubis

ALIAS Tarek Saber

APPEARS 39

PRONOUNS He/him

PANTHEON Egyptian

OCCUPATION Lawyer

THE GOD HIMSELF

Death and judgement are cold, callous brothers, and neither very forgiving. You're alive and then you are dead; you are innocent and then you are guilty. Such a binary outlook did not well prepare the god Anubis for the contradictory paradoxes that are humans. For most of his time spent on earth he took jobs that removed him from their noisy existence. Death was comfortable, to grief-stricken humans he knew what to say, how to comfort them.

Being around death changes you. Anubis saw it in his human coworkers, but it took longer for him to see the changes in himself. How withdrawn he would become, shying away from touch, company, avoiding eye contact. He had forgotten what it was like to live, to be among the living as they truly were, and he may have completely lost himself if it hadn't been for Tenjin.

Death pairs well with two things; tragedy and poetry. With sharp wit and sharper tongue, Tenjin lured Anubis out of his shell, taught him how to see the beauty of life in all its chaos, swayed him with poignant verse and a soft voice. Anubis loved Tenjin for it, in his own way, but that wasn't enough. They fought, Anubis saying all the wrong things, and then not saying enough. It was all too much; he shut down, becoming like death once more.

It's been a century since that instance of Anubis, and this time he is determined to embrace the living. The law is new to Anubis, but as a god of judgement he is particularly good at it, partially by choosing clients he knows are innocent, or at least morally right. One day he might be a god who knows more of life than just death.

DID HE MURDER A GOD?

Despite Anubis being known as something of a recluse, Pan still managed to worm his way into Anubis’ orbit. He was a messy, irresponsible, and loud god who liked to push Anubis’ buttons. He would slip opposite Anubis at Utu’s cafe and talk his ear off until he got bored, until he realised his flirtation wasn’t working. It seemed that everyone who became embroiled with Pan ended up crooked, even Utu wasn’t spared from Pan’s corruption.

WHO DOES HE LOVE, HATE AND DESIRE?

Tisiphone Anubis only really gets along well with the Detective. The two of them are both pretty terrible at forming connections and relationships, which somehow made it so they get on well together. If Tisiphone has a case which she could use some perception on, she gives Anubis a ring. Likewise, if Anubis discovers something shady in his line of work, he’ll let Tisiphone know.

Kanaloa Kanaloa is a powerful force to be reckoned with. Most people would decide not to meddle in his affairs, or to question him. Anubis has never been able to keep his nose out of trouble, call it the jackal in him.

Tenjin It hasn’t escaped Anubis’ notice that Tenjin is back in New Orleans. They haven’t talked as of yet, but every time he sees Tenjin Anubis is filled with longing. They parted ways less than amicably in their last reincarnation, but maybe this time things will work out.

Utu Anubis isn’t a typical justice deity, so he appreciates the gentle guidance he can gleam from Utu. The furies are rather intense, and Tyr has gone off the rails. Anubis often visits Utu in their cafe, quietly working on his cases from a dark corner.

FC Rami Malek RECOMMENDED ACTIVITY LEVEL Low-middle AVAILABILITY TAKEN by G

Resources

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anubis http://www.ancientegyptonline.co.uk/anubis.html https://www.ancient.eu/Anubis/

#bio:anubis #ngno anubis #Taken

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miguels-talons · 4 years

Text

i love hannibal and will but if they don't shut the fuck in the next fives seconds i lose my shit

#i hate them and their murder flirtations #wow i talk #hannibal

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Because There Was a Boat—Brand new sect leader JC is heavily dependent on MY for advice and MY is LIVING for it. Can be platonic, but I think some dubious MY/JC would be interesting!

ao3

There was something deeply gratifying about being Sect Leader Jiang’s aide, Meng Yao reflected.

It was something he hadn’t ever realized he’d wanted, caring for someone like that – he’d sworn a million times over that he’d be a son of Lanling Jin, high above the common people as he’d been low beneath them as the son of a whore, and after the fiasco at Jinlin Tower he’d resigned himself to having to bow his neck down to someone if it gave him the in he needed to manipulate them.

Even now, he was, technically, a servant.

He didn’t care.

Not when Jiang Cheng woke up every morning with eyes reddened by nightmares and all the tears that he didn’t shed during the day, when he communicated only through scowls and grimaces and growled out threats – except for Meng Yao.

Meng Yao got his smiles.

He got the adorably reddening cheeks, the ducked head, the shuffled feet; he got the eager gaze of praise me, praise me – he held the entire fate of the Jiang sect in his palm every day, determining whether they would rejoice or despair, and all for the price of a single nod of satisfaction or an off-hand word of praise that would make Jiang Cheng bloom like a flower in spring or, in their absence, fade away into a dried up sourpuss, full of spit and vinegar and viciousness.

Meng Yao was older than Jiang Cheng, if only by a little, and Jiang Cheng took him as an elder at once, for all that he continued to conscientiously refer to him by name as if he could hide the way that his Meng Yao rang the exact same way on the ear as shixiong might.

Meng Yao’s usual set of tricks were worthless on him, but that didn’t matter – for all that Jiang Cheng was immune to all but the most direct flirtation, manipulating him was so easy as to not justify anything complicated. He was the one in control, even if Jiang Cheng was the well-born one, the rich one, the blessed one whose birth was within the confines of a proper marriage bed…he might almost have thanked Jiang Cheng’s father for having tormented his son into such vulnerability, making him the perfect mark, if only he didn’t hate him so much on Jiang Cheng’s behalf.

As it was, though, Meng Yao’s control was unquestionable: if after a few weeks of efficient work, Jiang Cheng was leaning on him hard, then after a month he was invaluable. After two Jiang Cheng sincerely told him that he didn’t know what he’d do absent his help; after three, he was willing to swear that they’d all fall apart without him.

Meng Yao had control of the Jiang sect, control over his destiny, control even over what anyone dared to say about him…

And over Jiang Cheng, too.

“Sect Leader Jiang is tired,” he murmured, starting to pick up papers that Jiang Cheng didn’t need to look at, not really. It was all things that Meng Yao could do for him, even if it required forging his signature a few times, and anyway he didn’t really need to know about the extra strings Meng Yao was pulling back in Yunping City, the ones that were just for himself. “He should go to sleep.”

“I can do more,” Jiang Cheng said stubbornly, stifling a yawn. “If I get through half this pile, I could finish the rest tomorrow.”

Except, of course, tomorrow would bring a new set of paperwork and decisions to be made, the haphazard sect army he’d put together requiring both an able general and an even more able quartermaster – truly, it was lucky for Jiang Cheng that Meng Yao had found him, or else he would have torn himself apart trying to do it all.

“If you go to sleep, you’ll see that the work is less than you thought,” Meng Yao said.

“Because you’ll do a bunch at night! Don’t think I don’t know how hard you work, Meng Yao!” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “If you can do it…”

Meng Yao reached out and brushed his fingers down Jiang Cheng’s cheek, and smiled as the other man choked on his tongue, forgetting what he was going to say at once.

Jiang Cheng had cheekbones a whore would kill for, Meng Yao thought to himself, and wondered what Jiang Cheng would make of the comparison if he made it – he’d probably take it as an insult, when Meng Yao meant it as a compliment.

“You have circles under your eyes,” he said, blatantly ignoring the fact that his hand was nowhere near Jiang Cheng’s eyes. Instead, he traced his fingers down and caught him by the chin, and Jiang Cheng let him.

Such a good boy, always so eager to take direction.

One day, when Meng Yao was master of Lanling Jin the way he’d sworn he’d be, he’d invite Jiang Cheng into his chambers and dress him up in the most garish of clothing, all gaudy gold and purple, and he’d paint his face like he’d seen the sisters at the brothel paint theirs, white face and red lips – he swiped his thumb across Jiang Cheng’s lower lip, and allowed his smile to widen when Jiang Cheng’s throat worked as he swallowed – and when Jiang Cheng was twisting with humiliation and shame, eyes averted and misty with the tears that came too easily to him, he’d praise him until he learned to like it.

“Meng Yao cannot permit his sect leader to tire himself out,” he said, voice gentle, as if he didn’t notice that Jiang Cheng was flushed and breathing hard. “I care too much for you to allow it.”

Jiang Cheng was sitting very still in the manner of a prey seeking to conceal its vulnerable belly before a predator, trying to hide how the simple straightforward statement tore down all his defenses.

“So you’ll go to sleep,” Meng Yao concluded. “Won’t you?”

Jiang Cheng nodded.

He probably would have nodded if Meng Yao had told him he needed to get on his knees and service him. He probably would thank Meng Yao for allowing him the privilege.

“Good,” Meng Yao said, because it was a little too early to press his luck that way. Even if Jiang Cheng would be willing, Meng Yao didn’t yet have the reputation or ability to hold off the scurrilous rumors that would inevitably follow along, and that would only hurt Jiang Cheng’s feelings – and wasn’t it Meng Yao’s job to take care of his things? “I’m glad.”

He pulled back his fingers, and it was as if Jiang Cheng’s brain didn’t start working again until Meng Yao’s hands were firmly behind his back. When it did, Jiang Cheng looked down at the paperwork, looking lost.

“I have a mission tomorrow,” he mumbled. “Hanguang-jun said he found another lead, about Wei Wuxian. I was going to take some disciples…”

Meng Yao had never met Wei Wuxian, and accordingly didn’t know yet if he was someone else he was going to need to manipulate to get his way – another soft touch like Jiang Cheng – or if he was someone like Jiang Fengmian, whose premature death was the only reason Meng Yao hadn’t murdered him.

Still, Jiang Cheng liked him, and Meng Yao…Meng Yao wanted Jiang Cheng happy.

It was a startlingly selfless thought, for him.

Of course, whether this Wei Wuxian would actually make Jiang Cheng happy was a different question.

“I’ll make sure it gets done,” Meng Yao promised, and Jiang Cheng looked relieved. “You focus on finding Wei Wuxian, and bringing him back home. You know I’ll support you in whatever you do.”

As long as it’s the right move, Meng Yao thought behind his smile. As long as it’s what I want you to do.

Jiang Cheng smiled up at him, heartbreakingly sincere.

“I know I could count on you,” he said happily. “You’ll like him, I’m sure, and he’ll like you!”

Meng Yao was unsure of the former, but moderately sure of the latter. Most people liked him, eventually.

“You’ll bring him back,” he said again, because he knew it was what Jiang Cheng wanted to hear. He reached out again, this time running his fingers through his hair – a massive overreach, an affront to the dignity of any man, but a gesture of affection to which Jiang Cheng submitted himself at once. It was like raising a puppy. “Even if he’s hurt, we’ll just care for him, you and I, won’t we?”

“We will!”

“Good. I have faith in you, Sect Leader Jiang. You’ll find him and you’ll bring him back for sure this time.”

And as for what happens next…well, that’s up to Wei Wuxian, isn’t it?

Truly, he thought. Truly gratifying.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #jin guangyao #my fic #my fics #because there was a boat

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epicstuckyficrecs · 3 years

Text

Weekly Recap | March 29 - April 4 2021

This week, I started my Epic Stucky Fic Download of 2021 (I'm somewhere in 2015 at the moment, 2014 and before are done), which means I re-read some oldies... I hope you enjoy!

Complete

Heaven and Hell were words to me by this_wayward_life (Post-Endgame, PWP, BDSM | 3K | Explicit): Bucky usually prides himself in being a relatively observant person. He was back in Brooklyn when he and Steve were cramped together in that tiny one-bedroom apartment, he was during his time as the Asset, and he was during that strange period between his defection from Hydra and Steve finding him. So, he's more than a little surprised when Steve manages to keep a secret from him. So it comes as a bit of a shock when Bucky comes home one day after a mission for Steve to take his hands and whisper that he's got a surprise for him. (Part 3 of No grave can hold my body down)

💙 Diving In The Deep End by musette22/ @musette22 (Evanstan RPF | 19K | Explicit): Scarlett raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You’re telling me that you never once in your entire life, not even during theater school, locked lips with another guy?”

💙 you know I'd quench that thirst by napricot (Canon, Bucky/Steve/Peggy | 38K | Explicit): Steve Rogers is very much not a virgin. Not before the serum, and sure as hell not after it, when the serum ramps up his libido along with everything else. Too bad everyone thinks Captain America is a sexless historical symbol. Or: the tragicomic sexual odyssey of Steve Rogers, and how it begins, and then much later ends, with Bucky Barnes.

i got it bad for you by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (Evanstan RPF, PWP, Daddy kink | 4K | Explicit): “Yeah? Older?” “Yeah yeah, just…I don’t know, the beard? This fucking hair? Just…I don’t know— older,” he manages to chuckle nervously, gasping into Chris’ mouth when their squirming leads their dicks into lining up beautifully. Seb aches, yearns, mouth watering as he mewls, both hands in Chris’ hair as he licks into Sebastian’s mouth. And then Chris pulls back, breathes hot on Sebastian’s cheek, his bottom lip, croons, “Like your Daddy?”

💙 The Wedding Planner(’s Assistant) by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades (Shrinkyclinks | 40K | Teen): Bucky Barnes is in a bit of a conundrum. For example, on the one hand, he’s the former extremely polished, brutally efficient, and impressively ruthless brainwashed weapon of mass murder for the secret Nazi arm of the United States government. On the other hand, he has an uncontrollable crush on the cute blond wedding planner who lives next door.

Accidental husbands... by darter_blue/ @darter-blue (Shrunkyclunks, Accidental Marriage | 2K | Mature): Or the one where Bucky finds himself accidentally married to a superhero. And he definitely isn't mad about it.

WIP

💙 and the river flows beneath your skin by Deisderium/ @deisderium (Boarding School AU, Soulmates | 9/? | 70K | Mature): In which Steve and Bucky are forced to room together their senior year at boarding school, and accidentally soul bond to each other even though they kind of hate each other. All they have to do to get out of it is not kiss each other for a year so the accidental bond will fade. How hard could it be?

Re-Read

💙 (760): I literally cut myself out of my pants. Waste. Of. Money. by relenafanel/ @relenafanel (Modern AU | 6K | Mature): Hey friend of Sam’s can I get an opinion on this outfit? Bucky texted, attaching the selfie taken in Sam’s bathroom mirror. He received an answer almost immediately. Bucky was almost expecting a lecture, or at least a concerned question about who had stolen Sam’s phone. He got neither. Or: Bucky strikes up a flirtation with a stranger over text message in the month leading up to Valentine's Day.

💙 Bucky Barnes and his Big Beefy Blonde by Kellyscams/ @thebestpersonherelovesbucky (Shrunkyclunks, PWP | 6K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes loves Big, Beefy, Blondes. What he loves most about Big, Beefy, Blondes is having no string attached sex with them. Until he meets a Big, Beefy, Blonde that just happens to be Steve Rogers -- Captain America who's only been declared alive a few months ago. This is one that could go down as Bucky's fuck of a lifetime. That's if he can avoid these pesky feelings that start showing up out of nowhere.

💙 Bucky Barnes and his Big Beefy Blonde Part 2 by Kellyscams/ @thebestpersonherelovesbucky (Shrunkyclunks, Strangers to Lovers | 16K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes once spent eight glorious, sex-filled days with the Big, Beefy, Blonde fuck of a lifetime -- the recently defrosted Steve "Captain America" Rogers. Three months later, things aren't exactly the way Bucky imagined they'd be. This Big, Beefy, Blonde, really may have changed him forever.

💙 Series: You Make Me Feel Like I Am Home Again by Taste_is_Sweet/ @taste-is-sweet (Canon, Post-Winter Soldier | 19 works | 127K | Teen): Connected stories about Bucky and Steve: the world's most adorable relics.

if ye be worthy by hitlikehammers (Post-AOU | 2K | Teen): “Do you know what that is?” Bruce asks, voice low, but that’s not really new, for him. “It’s Thor’s hammer-thingy,” Bucky shrugs. “Look, man, I know it was shitty to give it a swing without him knowing, I’m sor—” “You swung it?”

💙 For Words to Say it Right by Squeaky, Taste_is_Sweet/ @taste-is-sweet (Modern AU, Soulmates | 25K | Teen): Turns out when you're missing an arm, everyone asks are you okay? all the damn time. And when your soulmark is one of the most common questions in English, it's even worse. Generic soulmarks are a bitch.

💙 Just Hold Me by shanology/ @shanology (Post-Winter Soldier | 10K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes is living in Avengers Tower, and all he wants in the world is to be cuddled. He sets out to get his new friends to give him the snuggling he needs, because it's not something he can ask of Steve yet. Steve doesn't see it in quite the same way. Also, there are Avengers movie nights, possibly with a showing of The Covenant. Just saying.

💙 Imprint by hetrez (Post-Avengers | 7K | General): "The next day, Steve and the other Avengers are just settling into a meeting on the flight deck when there's a muffled yell, and Alvarez falls out of the ceiling." -- Or, Steve builds a training program, a team, and new life for himself. (Part 1 of Make Way For Ducklings)

💙 Awakenings by hetrez (Canon divergent - Winter Soldier | 19K | Explicit): Bucky says, "Do you know, after you leave -- every time you leave, after the doctors have taken my mask off, I walk around this place and try to find everywhere you've been. Was your hand on the toaster? Did you lean against the doorway? Where were you on the couch? I haven't seen your face in seventy-five years, not really." (Part 2 of Make Way For Ducklings)

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #Weekly Recap

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mizgnomer · 3 years

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Broadchurch Season One - Behind the Scenes

Excerpt from the Radio Times article by Zoe Williams:

Creating a mesmerizing police duo is, I think, about the hardest job on screen. All the stuff that the leads would normally fall back on - flirtation, wit, banter, attraction - wouldn’t work here. The viewer would just think, “I wish you two would stop flirting when you’re meant to be finding a murderer.” Instead, between them, the actors create something much subtler: intellect, concentration, empathy, professional respect, all coagulating into a persuasive interplay. If you’re used to Tennant as the overlord of mischief, and Colman as the precise straight-woman from Peep Show, this is a whole new world.

They carry that chemistry off-screen, too, not simply getting on really well, but complementing (as well as ceaselessly complimenting) one another’s personalities. Tennant is in that “meet triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same” phase of his career - way too canny to pretend to not notice how successful he is, he still shrugs off his success as an amusing decision made by other people.

Colman absolutely hates giving opinions - I’ve met scores of actors who hate talking to journalists because they don’t want to be probed on their private lives, but she’s the first one I’ve met who won’t tell you what she thinks out of plain modesty. “In the comfort of my own home, with very good friends, I can be fairly eloquent, but that’s about as far as it goes. I can be fairly knowledgeable about one and a half topics.”

So he’s skittish and relaxed, and she has the polite expression of someone at the dental hygienist who wishes she was almost anywhere else, but doesn’t want to offend the hygienist. The combination is endearing.

#david tennant #olivia colman #broadchurch #broadchurchBts #my husband and I thought we'd re-watch the first episode a few weeks ago #we ended up sitting up for hours because we couldn't stop #and we know what happens!#it's just such a good show #it was definitely time for a rewatch #my favorite detective duo #hardy and ellie #stuff i posted #thank you to anyone who shared set photos #euros lyn #james strong

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reid-fiction · 3 years

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Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

In which you get sent on a little treasure hunt during the F.B.I Christmas party.

A/N: So...IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! In celebration, I decided to write a very fluffy, very Christmasey story because I’m worth it you’re all worth it ;) If you would like a song reference, you can listen to Randy Travis’ song, “Meet Me Under the Mistletoe” that was released the year I was born (coincidence, I swear). But, if you hate twangy country music from the 80′s, you can skip it.

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“Jingle Bells” was blasting through the speakers that Garcia had set up in the corner of the room. It was the 5th time tonight - so far - that you had heard that song, and you knew you were going to be dreaming about sleigh bells in your sleep. The cup of eggnog in your hand was probably starting to become room temperature because you had only managed to sip at it for the last few hours in between small talk with everyone else at the party.

You weren’t having fun.

Not because you didn’t like your co-workers or because you hated Christmas, you were just bored and had hoped to spend most of your night with a particularly tall and lanky genius that was, currently, nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t that you needed Spencer to be there in order for you to have a good time, but his presence certainly made things more enjoyable for you. The two of you had a decently established flirtation going on for the last few months and, although it had yet to progress past that stage, you always hoped that he would take the plunge and make things more official.

You glanced around the room, watching everyone from your office mingle and try to have conversations above the blaring music. You smiled, seeing Luke and Matt engaged in what seemed like a very passionate discussion which really didn’t match the tone of the gaudy, oversized Christmas sweaters they were both wearing. Garcia was on the other side of the room laughing over some joke that Rossi was telling. JJ and Will were standing next to each other while talking to Emily and Tara. But, no Spencer.

You took another sip of your eggnog and grimaced. It was warm, just as you had expected. You didn’t particularly feel like talking to anyone else, and you were seriously considering just making an early exit and calling it a night. Before you could move to deposit the rest of your drink down the drain, you saw one of the agents that worked at the desk across from yours start walking toward you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said, smiling. “I have something for you.”

You frowned in confusion. “You do?”

“Yeah, I was asked to give you this note.”

He held out a folded piece of paper to you, and you took it. When you opened it up, you saw only a few words scribbled inside.

“Kitchen, in the fridge by the water jug.”

You read over the note several times, becoming increasingly confused each time. It read like a game of Clue and, considering your job, you wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find a dead body in the fridge by the water jug.

“Wait, what does this - “

You looked up as you were speaking and saw that the agent was already gone and you were left holding your room temperature eggnog and a weird murder confession. You had no idea what was going on, and you also had no idea who had given the agent the note in the first place.

You had two options, really. You could ignore the note and leave the party like you had been intending to. Or, you could go into the kitchen, open the fridge, and check the water jug. You knew Garcia’s place like the back of your hand, and you knew she wouldn’t mind if you went into her kitchen, so you trudged off in that direction and weaved your way through the crowds of people.

When you reached the kitchen, you walked over to the fridge and opened it. It took you a second to find the jug of water that was buried behind trays of food and other drinks for the party, but you carefully rearranged the puzzle of objects until you got to the water container and soon saw another similar looking piece of paper taped to the side.

“Living room, on the bottom of the painting over the couch.”

While you were relieved to find no sign of a dead body in Garcia’s refrigerator, you still had absolutely no idea what kind of game you were playing. You knew exactly which painting the mystery clue writer was referring to, and you also knew how many people were currently crowded in that room.

You sighed, closing the door to the fridge and walking back toward the living room. You were already invested in this game, you might as well keep going. You had to awkwardly excuse yourself as you interrupted the three people who were sitting there in mid-conversation and ask if you could check something on the wall behind them. They gave you strange looks, but stood and allowed you to kneel on the couch and look at the painting. Sure enough, another note was taped to the bottom of the frame. You quickly grabbed it and gave a polite thanks to the three people who were still looking at you as though you had two heads.

Your face burned a bit with embarrassment as you moved to a quieter part of the room to open the third note.

“Front closet, in your coat pocket.”

At least this clue would be easy enough to find. You walked back through the groups of people until you got to the entryway and opened the closet door. You found your coat and rummaged into the pocket, feeling around until you found the piece of paper inside.

“Outside by the tree, under the mistletoe (bring your coat, it’s chilly)”

This clue made your heart skip several beats. You knew which tree was being referred to, but the mention of mistletoe was new. If this was some sort of prank, you had to admit that the prankster was committed. But, if it wasn’t a prank? Who would have gone to all this trouble just to get you...

Your head shot up and you quickly glanced around the room again, taking a head count of everyone you saw. All the usual suspects were still there, except for one, and it was the one who hadn’t shown up in the first place.

There was no way, right? It couldn’t be.

You shoved your arms into the sleeves of your coat and left the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time until you were at the front door. The tree was just outside to the left and, as soon as you got outside and rounded the corner, you saw it.

You also saw him.

The tree was draped in white Christmas lights that looked brilliant against the subtle dusting of snow that had fallen earlier that day. The street was pretty much deserted, and the flurries that were still falling from the sky hit the ground without a sound.

Spencer was standing underneath the tree and smiled when he saw you. As you were walking toward him, you saw something else strung up in the tree branch just above his head. It didn’t take long for you to figure out what it was, and you shook your head in amused disbelief as you got up to him.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“This is holiday tradition, isn’t it?”

You shrugged. “I guess. But, most people don’t set up a treasure hunt for it.”

You stood in front of him, watching your breath wisp out like smoke in the cold air. He shuffled back and forth on his heels, looking every bit as nervous and awkward as you currently felt.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence between you, “are you going to carry on this tradition, or are we just going to stand out here underneath this tree until we freeze?”

Spencer smiled, looking down at the ground for a moment before he moved a few steps closer to you. He was only inches from you now, and you could feel the heat from his body helping to block the cold from hitting your own.

He looked back at you, biting his lip before he reached out and took your face gently in his hands. You swallowed, feeling your heart rate speed up as he moved closer, tilting his head until he could capture your lips with his own. Your hands automatically wandered up until they settled on his waist.

It felt like time had stopped, and you honestly wished that it would. You could have stayed in his embrace forever and, while this wasn’t the first time you had kissed someone, it was certainly one of the most memorable.

Much to your dismay, Spencer pulled back a few seconds later. Keeping his hands on your cheeks, he smiled at you and you felt your face flushing under his gaze.

“I can’t believe you went to all that trouble just so you could kiss me,” you said. “Especially considering this whole time you could have just asked.”

Spencer chuckled, leaning his forehead against your own.

“I wanted it to be special,” he replied. “But, I promise that I’ll just ask next time.”

“Next time, hey?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “You’re already planning for a next time?”

“Quite a few times, actually. That is, if you want me to?”

You couldn’t help the somewhat incredulous sound that came out of your mouth. The idea that he wasn’t sure if you actually wanted him to kiss you was something you needed to change immediately.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Ask to kiss me again.”

He didn’t even have time to get the full question out before you answered by pulling him back to you again.

This was way better than finding a dead body in Garcia’s refrigerator.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #fluff #fanfiction

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saberstars · 3 years

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I'm Here

Pairing: Gender Neutral Y/N & Loki

Fluff, angst, implied smut

Warnings: Mentions of depression/mental illness, epilepsy/seizures, mentions of sex, as always if I missed anything feel free to let me know

Summary: Loki & You have a pre-existing friendship with benefits & one night you have a seizure after some spiciness. He cares for you helping you afterwards & makes sure you rest easy & safe. Reader is portrayed to have seizures more so during changes in sleep phases, not awake. The wake seizures or more of a medium ish absence/ focal aware seizure that only occur on occasion & can be “fought” through.

Word Count: 1796

Notes: This was intended to be a gender neutral reader. I think I removed all he/she pronouns.

Additionally, I know that not everyone experiences seizures the same way, and that epilepsy can affect people differently. This is all written from my experiences with it, so I ask that you do not tell me I portrayed something wrong. I can and will accept constructive criticism, But I will not accept someone telling me blatantly that I am wrong with my experiences. Therefore please keep that in mind when reading. I genuinely hope this fic brings others comfort if you suffer from epilepsy or any disorder that causes seizures. Thank You <3

It’s been three years since you found out you suffered from epilepsy. A diagnosis that came late in your life to be fair. As a young child up until you reached adulthood, you suffered from eye shakes that would eventually turn into stuttering spells that made it difficult to breath or not breath properly at all. You never passed out though, you got close a few times, but you managed to stay awake and “fight it off.” You started to notice over time that you’d also get a strange taste in your mouth, almost like metal or as if you were sucking on a battery and it had that zing flavor. You knew that was a precursor and would panic on cue rightfully so. You hated when you had your mini stutter fests because all you could do was hope it didn’t happen.

Of course you complained to your parents as a child but they didn’t think it was anything. They said it was just a panic attack. So you took their word for it. That was until you started having grand mals in your sleep. At first you thought they were just a part of some strange dream, that wasn't real to you, not yet anyway. You would wake up exhausted, sore, sometimes unable to move properly, walk, open and close a fist, and you just overall couldn't stay conscious sometimes. Again you complained to your parents about it, but they said it was nothing. You probably had night terrors or some form of minor sleep paralysis. So you dumbly believed them.

When you moved out, You sought answers, and eventually got them. You were grateful. The medication they prescribed helped tremendously though, it did make you tired but it was worth not having your episodes. Thankfully your case wasn’t as severe as others and it was manageable so long as you took care of yourself and took your medications. Though you were warned, breakthroughs were common, and missing your dose can and would cause a seizure.

Despite having such a diagnosis, you kept it to yourself. You never really told anyone. It wasn’t until you started sleeping with a friend, that you finally divulged your secret too in the event that it ever happened whilst they were with you.

It was someone you randomly slept with on and off with. A friend with benefits, his name was Loki. You had met the god shortly after his father had passed and his home, destroyed. You found comfort with each other despite it being more of a sexual comfort. You both used sex as a way to fight your own demons, a distraction, a quick grab at serotonin. Despite the sex you both developed a very deep friendship. You’d read together on occasion, have very interesting debates on current events, history, as well as other nuances, and a lot of other things. You even met his brother and the avengers at one point.

You both slept soundly after spicy events had taken place 2 hours prior, Loki had come over desperate for attention of any kind. He didn’t say why, but you knew it was a rather serious topic he wished not to discuss and rather lessen the pain with ecstasy. Little did you know, on this day a few years ago he indirectly murdered his mother. He blamed himself dearly, he knew if he would have kept his mouth shut for once in his life she may be here today. So he needed a genuine distraction. One of any kind. Preferable you. Due to the spicy events that took place you missed your dose, due to falling asleep promptly after, which cost you dearly. Missing doses always caused this to happen no matter what.

You gasped for air like usual, your body contorting outwards first with a thrust. You were awake, conscious, and terrified for the few seconds you normally were given before blacking out. You began to stutter violently all the air leaving your lungs as it happened. Until no sounds were made and it was just you chattering. Loki woke immediately, with a completely calm exterior despite a raging mixture of emotions internally. He knew you never called an ambulance for these things because you were normally alone & unaware until you became conscious again. She made him promise to never call 911 unless it was over a certain time length, to save her medical expenses, or unless she stopped breathing for good.

Loki dare not touch you though as you shook and curled up. The last thing he wanted was his godly strength to crush you somehow or cause you more pain. Instead he watched and hovered until you finally stopped. It was a short 50 second one, which was under your time limit, but he still debated calling. It’s not like You would’ve known he lied.

His breathing hitched as he went to check your pulse and airway, ever so delicately, which were both clear and strong.

“Oh thank you.” he whispered

A few hours had slid by with still no response from you. Loki sat next to you, staring down at you, to the point where he would fight the urge to blink, waiting for a stir of some kind from you. He did give the courtesy of redressing you though, in a nightgown from a drawer after an hour slid past. He even went as far as ensuring that you were adequately covered by the blankets to avoid being chilled. It has been 3 ½ hours now, with no stir of any kind from you. He knew it would be awhile before you showed any signs of movement possibly but this worry tore him to his core. In the midst of waiting he refused to just idly go back to sleep next to you, he was determined to stay awake until you were conscious again, so that you knew, he stayed there waiting for you. Loki didn’t know when he found himself talking to you as if you were awake, but all he knew was that it made him feel a bit better, and he hoped that when you woke it would make you feel better too.

“You know, I’ve been reading this really dumb gothic romance novel. I think you’d like it because of how naive the girl is. I know you like to criticize and pick on how they make decisions.” he spoke with a chuckle in his voice thinking back to how you’d flail your arms and drop your book to scream about how dumb some main protagnist could be.

“I'll have to buy you a copy or give you mine when I’m done.” Loki shifted his weight from his right to his left brushing your bangs out of your eyes.

“I don’t know why you keep those so long, all they do is get in the way of your gorgeous eyes.”

It was in that moment you rustled, you shifted your neck ever so slightly, Your eyelids twitch. Loki leaned forward parting his lips as he watched with a heart of hope completely overwhelmed with joy when he saw the color of your iris’s. He exhaled a shaky breath cupping your cheeks which caused you to flinch sending a wave of shocks through your body. It was at that moment you knew. You knew what he saw, what he had gone through. Your heart sank and you immediately berated yourself internally despite your exhausted state.

“It’s ok you don’t have to say or do anything. I’ll stay, I’ll take care of you for as long as you need.” Loki assured you, wanting you to know that you didn’t have to go through this alone. You never really had anyone stay, let alone worry about you. Your eyes began to water as tears rolled down your face.

“I’ll go grab you some water, you’re probably parched. I’ll also grab you a banana. I read that potassium can help with the cramping.” Loki said leaving to yourself for a moment. He also grabbed tissues for your eyes and nose just in case. Upon returning her placed everything at your side offering help to sit up. “Do you need to use the bathroom or help sitting up?” He asked with a gentle tone.

You nodded trying to take a good deep breath so you could speak a bit. “I’m so sorry you had to see that… but thank you. Thank you for staying, for helping. I do need the bathroom and I would appreciate help. My legs are still...” you mustered out with all your might but after a point your tongue refused to work with you.

“Of course, I may be a monster but I’m not entirely cruel. If it helps… you can just think to yourself and I can listen that way. So that you're not struggling too much.” Loki admitted with a tone of self depreciation.

“You're not a monster just because you're different & have made mistakes.” you thought as Loki picked you up bridal style walking you to the bathroom. Of course he placed you down on the toilet and waited outside for you to do what you needed. Since he had only added a nightgown to your previously naked body it made things easier. It was exhausting to just sit up and do everything but you pushed through. You even pushed yourself up and limped to the sink best you could to wash your hands. Upon hearing the faucet though Loki came back in standing behind you offering support if needed.

“Catch me~” you thought before falling back into his arms with a snort.

“You're lucky I have godlike reflexes you minx.” He replied with a hint of flirtation. You had used more than you had in you to wash your hand. Loki caught you obviously and carried you back to the room placing you back on the bed. “No, more like I knew you were ready to catch me.” you slowly thought as exhaustion tugged at your consciousness again. Loki noticed the pill bottle on your dresser before prompting you to take it. Instinctively opening it and sliding one into his hand.

“You should probably take this before you fall asleep.” You took it mentally saying thanks drinking the glass of water with it.

“Yeah that would probably help avoid some added breakdancing.” You joked trying to use humor to lighten the situation. Loki stared plain faced trying not to entertain your joke though, despite finding it secretly witty. Maybe he’d laugh at it when you felt a bit better. Soon after you began to dance between awake and sleep. Loki took note based on how your thoughts jumbled around between multiple things, laughing to himself a bit before minor intrusive fears began picking at you. Loki immediately jumped into action in an attempt to squash them soothing you a bit.

“You can sleep soundly, please get some rest. You don’t have to force yourself to stay awake out of fear or guilt.” Loki spoke in the most caring and sweet tone he could muster up. Trying to convince you that it was going to be ok & it worked. Somehow you knew he was right & that you could trust him completely. You drifted back to sleep peacefully thinking about how for the first time in your life, you didn’t fear sleeping in your bed. You didn’t have intrusive thoughts about whether or not you’d wake up in the morning or not. Which honestly brought tears bubbling their way up and out of Loki's eyes. The amount of trust you had in him in your thoughts, at that moment completely took his breath away. And that was something he wasn’t going to break or ever lose.

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xhisokas-harleyx · 3 years

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okay but imagine hisoka and fem!reader going for an undercover mission, in a ball (well this gives me an excuse for hisoka in a suit with his hair down looking kinda normal yk aaaaa) and he and reader are waltzing across the ballroom, with the mutual pining, the flirting back and forth, constantly one upping each other without making it too crudely sexual while maintaining eye contact no matter what (bonus points if reader doesnt get flustered outwardly) <333

I’m sorry this took so long! Vacation and a few other things happened. I took a little creative liberty with this one I think... Hope you enjoy! 😊

Part 2 is out, link at the bottom :)

I’m getting to the other requests soon!

Song Inspiration: Fire on Fire; Sam Smith

Word Count: 2700

Hisoka x Fem Reader: Fire x Fire

You sigh as you look up at the clock that acts as a guardian for the entry hall you are sitting in. As of now, you’ve been waiting for Hisoka to enter the room for about 45 minutes. You have finished your hair, your makeup, and dressed accordingly, which took a decent amount of time- however, your male counterpart for the evening is still not ready.

“Hisoka… how much longer?!” You call to the upstairs bathroom, and you sigh melodramatically. You’d have thought he was ditching you if it wasn’t in fact a mission that HE himself had invited you to. “We’re going to be late, and that will attract attention!” You groan.

“Speaking of attracting attention…” A smooth, low voice coos from behind you, and you jolt up from your seat on the bottom of the stairs and wheel around. “…You call that undercover?” He says, as his tongue flashes across his bottom lip, a sinful gaze in his golden irises.

~Because I, for one, can’t keep my eyes off of you.~ He refrains from saying that last part.

There Hisoka stands, with a raised eyebrow, admiring you with a smirk as he plays with one of his cufflinks. His pink hair is down, covering his eyes only slightly, but not enough that you can’t see the hungry look in his golden irises. He doesn’t have any makeup on, and he is wearing a clean white suit with a tie and napkin that matches the color of your dress.

Quickly, you close your mouth, fighting to regain your composure and not allow him to see your reaction to his appearance. This mission was going to be hard enough without him distracting you throughout…

Little do you know, Hisoka is currently appraising your appearance as he strolls slowly down the stairs. Your sleek (f/c) dress hugs your curves perfectly, covered in sequins that catch the light of the chandelier at random intervals. Both of your outfits are a bit flamboyant- but honestly, could you expect any less from this efficient duo?

“It’s all about catching them off guard, hiding in plain sight.” You say to him, tipping your chin upward and placing a hand confidently on your hip. “The more attention we attract, the better chance we have of fooling those around us and identifying our target early.” You smirk as you meet his witty remark with your own explanation.

Hisoka lets out a small chuckle before he opens the door for you. “You know as well as I that that logic makes no sense.” He points out with a coy smile.

“Sounds good though, doesn’t it?” You retort, walking past him without so much as a glance.

“As does everything that comes from your lips.” He says it in a deep and yearning tone that catches you by surprise, even for Hisoka.

You fight the urge to tense up- this party hasn’t even begun yet, and Hisoka is already trying to get under your skin as you’d suspected he might. Luckily, you know exactly how to bat him off.

“Hurry up.” You order, completely ignoring him; it was phase one of your plan. Much to your chagrin, this pursuit only excites Hisoka, his eyes twinkling as he watches you get into the limo that will take you to the party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On your way to the ball, Hisoka watches you silently as you look out the window, the stars flying by as you speed to the event. You don’t even notice, until you feel that familiar bloodlust rising from his direction.

“You’re going to have to control- that – if we are going to stay undercover. We don’t know how many Nen users are going to be here.” You say nonchalantly, looking to him.

In the low light, Hisoka doesn’t speak at first, almost as if you’ve caught him looking when you weren’t supposed to. He notices how well your makeup is done- and how much care you have taken in styling your hair tonight. He loves those golden earrings you are wearing and makes a note to steal them from you later.

You notice his silence. “Hey, Hisok-“

“We are almost there, madam.” The driver tells you, interrupting your snapping to bring the pink haired man’s attention back to you… even though it hasn’t left you he saw you sitting on those stairs.

You thank the man, and you take this opportunity to affix your knife under your dress, rolling the long fabric up to your thigh and strapping it around your leg. You know exactly what this will do to Hisoka; and yet, you do it anyway, deciding to fight fire with fire.

Hisoka’s eyes widen under his bangs, and he stifles a soft moan. He does his best to look away, knowing that, despite this game you two play… he must control himself around you. Because, somewhere deep inside, he is amazed that you even agreed to come with him tonight, and he doesn’t want to scare you off.

Luckily, you are very determined to stay unabashed.

Still, his bloodlust peaks at the sight, and you use this as an opportunity to order him again.

“Nen off. Now.” You demand, dropping your skirt back to its normal position and flashing him a side glance as the limo stops.

“Oh, is that an order?” He questions, kicking an eyebrow and biting the inside of his lip, fully expecting to trip you up. He just can’t help himself. He can’t resist the urge to play this game with you, and is so impressed with the fact that you willingly (and expertly) play it too.

“Absolutely.” You reply without missing a beat. His eyes focus on you, unsure how to take your hot and cold attitude, and your apparent disinterest in his flirtation. Still, he obeys, and clears his throat, exiting the limo and moving to your side to open the door for you.

You get out gracefully, refusing the hand he is holding out to you, which both infuriates and encourages him.

“The target is an older Nen user with blue hair. Rich guy. Tons of ladies. Right?” You whisper to Hisoka, trying to confirm the details so you can begin to scout for your victim. “Conjurer?”

Hisoka doesn’t answer you for a moment, and instead, seems distracted before coming back to his senses.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Conjurer. Those women he hangs with are replicas of the prostitutes he’s said to have murdered. Perhaps talking to them could be our key to finding him.” You weren’t questioning how he knew all of this, but glance at him.

“So you’re going to use this as a speed dating service.” You state, rolling your eyes, though your comment is meant to be more funny than mean. Hisoka, however, looks to you with a confused expression.

“You wound me!” He chuckles in response, dramatically clutching his chest, but taking great care not to reveal the actual hurt underneath. Is that what you saw him as?

There is an awkward silence between the two of you, but as you walk into the entryway of the mansion, you put on your acting expressions and begin to scout out the crowd. There are hundreds of people, live music, drinks, and conversations happening all over the large abode, and in an instant, you feel a bit overwhelmed.

“We should split up.” You suggest. Not that you wanted to leave his side, but wouldn’t it be easier to find the target this way?

Unbeknownst to you, your suggestion slightly upsets Hisoka. He had hoped you would stay together, but he doesn’t protest; he nods, and you two go your separate ways. However, you find yourself glancing in his direction as he slips through the crowd, a pang of guilt stabbing your heart.

~~~~~~~~~

An hour or so later, you have still had no luck locating this bastard, and have decided to stop at the bar for a drink. You know that you’re supposed to be working, but how can you relax at all without a break? You order a drink from the bartender, and promptly begin to down it, leaning on the bar and analyzing the crowd. You can’t help but think of Hisoka, and how handsome he looked in his proper outfit which was so different than what you normally saw him in.

Often, you wondered if his flirtation was just that and nothing else; or whether there could be a chance that he feels morefor you. There were times when he could be so caring toward you… but he did have the tendency to be fickle and dishonest with his emotions.

As much as you hated to admit it… you felt morefor him. He wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, you liked that about him. You had the ability to see through his apathetic exterior to the human underneath. You didn’t know whether that made you a hopeless romantic, or just plain crazy.

Suddenly, you see a flash of pink hair in the far distance, breaking your fantasy. It is Hisoka, shining like a diamond just next to the dance floor. A wave of relief washes over you briefly, and you set down your drink to make your way toward him, quicker than you’d imagined.

However, the sight you see there before you made your stomach flip, and you question the flirtation you’d just fantasized about. Through the crowd of people, you can see Hisoka talking to a bunch of nicely dressed ladies, a drink perched in his hand like he was some aristocrat. They seem to be laughing at just about everything he said, and one of them has the audacity to playfully touch his lapel, which set you off.

Now you were disobeying your own advice as your bloodlust piqued. Your fists clench and you begin to trudge toward the large magician, who doesn’t seem to notice your presence. That could not be more false, however, and he smirks to himself as he feels your approach, parting the crowd and traversing the ballroom dance floor.

Your high heels, however, have another idea: to ruin your night.

Your heel twists, and you trip over your own feet, a few people gasping as your body flies toward the floor. However, your momentum is stopped by the stern body of your audacious savior.

Hisoka pulls your arm past his neck, his strong arm wrapping around your waist and holding you flush against his body. A few of the people clap at the display, the women especially noting how dashing this charismatic man is, and how lucky the woman in his arms must be.

Obviously, they didn’t know the real Hisoka…

“If you wanted to dance, you could have just asked.” Hisoka notes softly, with a hubristic undertone. The way he holds you, however, is soft and careful, his fingers spread along your waist as he pulls you to your feet. You scoff, and look away, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from his pleasing embrace. Still, you’re mad at him, and you don’t show your flustered expression outwardly.

Without your permission, Hisoka begins to move your body in tandem with his, guiding your hips to the beat of the new song playing in the ballroom.

“You look angry, (Y/N).” He notices your expression and rigidity but doesn’t stop moving his feet. It’s a rather timid tune at first, however, at the bridge of the song the tempo began to pick up, and you easily accommodated. You two begin to tango across the floor, much to the delight of the people watching your display in awe.

“We’re supposed to be working, and you’re over there flirting.” You scold yourself inwardly as you realize he’s going to have a heyday roasting your obvious jealousy.

“Ah, and you were working at the bar when you were sipping your cocktail?” He retorts fluently, surprising you. He has been watching you this whole time and was perfectly willing to never let you know it!

Hisoka whips his hair out of his eyes, his bangs parting just long enough to reveal to you a flash of his enchanted yellow eyes. Somehow, that hungry, almost pleading look behind his irises melts away your fear that he doesn’t feel anything for you. And from that moment on, you can’t break eye contact with him, as if he’s holding you under some sort of spell.

~God, that was hot.~ You think, but you are determined to keep your cool and not show all your cards, so you shoot him an equally suggestive look that makes his blood boil. Your eyes make him go crazy. He can’t take that look in your eyes, the way you encapsulate your emotions within them makes Hisoka lose his breath and feel a little weak in the knees (not something he’s used to). Both of you are too caught up in each other to realize how much you are both leaking bloodlust.

“Jealousy looks good on you.” He smirks, twirling your body around him, and catching you in his arms.

“Hm.” You smile, beginning to have fun with this performance. “I look good on you, wouldn’t you say?” You retort boldly, not expecting Hisoka to take it quite so seriously. His smile fades, and as you twirl back to him, the song dies down, and Hisoka bends you over his knee, hanging your body in his balance.

His gilded eyes have never looked more intense and sincere. Your comment seems to have uprooted his act, and his forehead presses to yours as it seems he is devouring your soul with his eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more, y/n.” He breathes against your lips at the closing note of the ballad, hoping that you’ll confirm his hopes and take the leap of faith he needs you to in that moment.

Your heart begins to skip beats, and you can’t hold your act any longer. Your cheeks are painted with a deep red shade, and your neck begins to crane. Somehow, on the fly, you are unsure. What would all of this lead to?

Your thoughts of leaving Hisoka hanging are interrupted by the annoying screech of one of the women from before, spewing a slurred, “Way to go, Mr. Horatio!”

Horrible fake name aside, this makes your jealousy skyrocket as you realize she’s talking about your white knight.

You turn back to him with the fire of Hell in your eyes, and meld your lips with Hisoka’s with such ferocity that it takes him off guard, and for a moment he is completely star struck. The taste of your lips ignites such a passion within him that his hand moves to your hair, tilting your head back with a gentle tug to allow him better access to your sensitive parts. His obsession for you is on full display, and he doesn’t care who sees it.

As you break for air, his lips move excitably to your neck, the both of you completely forgetting that you are in the middle of a mission and a whole crowd of people. Neither of you seem to care, and if Hisoka has his way you’ll end this party with a bang.

The guards have a different plan.

“The Magician! I’d recognize that Bloodlust anywhere!” Someone shouts, sending a force of guards your way. Hisoka can’t help but smirk in that general direction, and without a thought, he unleashes the full weight of his bloodlust, and scoops you into his arms protectively. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome, darling. Let’s head out.” He purrs. Somehow, even being chased by a force of guards, which he could easily annihilate, he is as enticing with his voice as ever. You have not the power nor will to disobey that honey-like, nuanced voice that turns your resolve to ash. Instead, you are content with the view of his hair flying in the wind as he gracefully bursts out of the mansion, running with you in his arms.

You’re completely enthralled with him, and he knows it; he feels the same about you. But as the house vanishes from your sight, your eyes widen as you remember one key detail.

“Hisoka… WE DIDN’T KILL THE TARGET!” You panic, as he slows; you’re far enough away to be safe now.

Hisoka chuckles warmly, which confuses you.

“Not to worry, y/n. I killed him days ago.” He says matter-of-factly, anticipating your reaction at hearing that the party was completely unnecessary. “My place?” He skips past it like it’s a minor detail.

Your body tenses.

“Hold on…YOU WHAT?!”

~FIN~

…I could see a very NSFW Part Two for this... -///-

Part two is here!!

https://xhisokas-harleyx.tumblr.com/post/660568203654774784/in-x-this-x-moment-hisoka-x-reader-pt2-to-fire

I loved this prompt. So cute. Hope you all liked it! <3

#hisoka x reader #hisoka morow #hisoka #hxh #hunter x hunter #love #reader insert #fanfic #y/n x hisoka

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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 4 years

Note

Hello! if its ok how would the demon brothers react to a low self esteem/ self hating MC who excepts any insults with a sad smile?

Content Warnings: Self deprecation (naturally, given the nature of the prompt), verbal harassment/insults, spoilers for later chapters in Belphegor’s section

Just so you know it’s basically gonna be seven different versions of this:

Under a cut to prevent carpal tunnel!

Obey Me: The Brothers With an MC Who Has Low Self Esteem and Accepts Insults with a Smile

Lucifer

Lucifer kind of just... stops for a few seconds. Like, he freezes completely. Doesn’t move, doesn’t blink - MC’s not sure if he’s even breathing. They’re at one of Diavolo’s parties together, and a pretty important demon is coming for MC hard, albeit in a slimy, passive-aggressive kind of way. And they’re just... smiling and nodding along?

Lucifer’s single currently operating brain cell is dedicated to not just murdering this pathetic excuse for a demon. If he wasn’t already in his demon form, he would absolutely transform. With a deep breath, he stalks over in full Avatar of Pride mode: shoulders back, staring slightly down at everyone else, wings puffed up just so.

Anything the demon was saying to MC, he throws back at them tenfold, with just as much passive-aggression, though it starts slipping more and more as he continues on. Eventually it starts turning into one of those lectures of his about The Importance of The Exchange Program and Lord Diavolo’s Reputation and- MC is gonna have to catch his attention to stop him from going full Dad-mode on this bastard.

Once they succeed in doing this, he pulls them aside and, still bristling with indignant rage, asks why MC was letting that wretch talk to them like that.

“Well, it wasn’t like they were saying anything that wasn’t true...”

Wrong. Answer. Lucifer is the Avatar of Pride, even though he has self-worth issues running deeper than the Marianas Trench he would never let anyone talk to him like that, and he wishes more than anything he could lend MC that ability. He’ll tilt their head to look him directly in the eyes and assure them that they absolutely do have value, both in the Devildom and in his family. He won’t tolerate anyone, including MC themself, put down a member of his family. Is that clear?

In the coming weeks, the younger brothers notice that Lucifer’s soft spot for MC is even more pronounced than usual. In fact, he frequently praises them for their accomplishments, flustering them to no end. None of them dare to bring it to his attention, because they’ve all noticed in one way or another that MC is carrying themself with more confidence now.

Whatever is going on between the two of them seems to be working quite well.

Mammon

Mammon... runs his mouth a lot. He says stupid things he doesn’t mean because admitting his actual feelings would be too difficult. Unfortunately, one of the feelings he’s vehemently avoiding addressing is his feelings for MC. This manifests as loud and insistent denial that The GREAT Mammon would never be interested in some stupid, weak human, how dare you suggest that?!

The brothers expect one of many responses from MC: outrage and offence, teasing at Mammon’s clear tsundere attitude, a roll of the eyes, anything other than their sad little smile whenever he insults them. One day, Mammon finally notices their staring and he actually stops and takes a minute to process the acceptance on MC’s face.

He just called them a burden and a waste of time and they’re SMILING?!

Like a horrid puzzle piece, everything clicks together in Mammon’s mind. He’s never heard MC protest any of the awful things he’s said about them. They don’t even tease him about it like his brothers do.

They think he’s being serious and they agree with him.

He changes his tune so fast it’s dizzying. He slips up sometimes, but now when he sees MC’s small smile that doesn’t reach their eyes, he adds, “H-Hey! Why’re you just letting me say all that, huh? Ya gotta stand up for yourself, MC! You better not go around letting lesser demons talk to you like this! If anyone ever gives you trouble, you come to the GREAT Mammon and I’ll shut ‘em up real quick!

“‘Cause... It’s not true, all of that about you being stupid or annoying. You’re my human and I know you really well and you’re- You’re not any of that, MC! So don’t go smiling at jerks dragging your name through the mud okay?”

Leviathan

MC and Leviathan are playing an online multiplayer game together, and MC still hasn’t quite gotten used to Devildom controls yet. They’re not exactly a great asset to their team... Not that Levi minds. He’s happy they’re showing interest in him his games at all.

Some of the demons they’re playing with, on the other hand...

Ugh, stay on the objective you stupid bitch!

Is [MC’s username] afk?

If you feed them any more kills I fucking swear-

Why is a noob even playing this game lmao just go die already

Levi scoffs. Their team wasn’t even losing, these scumbags just needed to find someone to pick on. Still, it wasn’t fair for MC to listen to their insults, he’ll just disconnect and find a better team - hey, why has MC been so quiet?

The Avatar of Envy turns to face MC only to see them staring down at their controller with a shaky smile. He calls their name and they look up, startled.

“I’m gonna find another team for us to play on,” Levi explains as the game warns him that he’s about to lose some in-game reputation points for abandoning his team. “Uh, unless you’d rather play something else?”

“No it’s fine, you pick,” MC says, still avoiding making direct eye contact. “I probably won’t do any better no matter what we play...”

Hey, insecurity is his thing!

“MC, you better not be thinking about what those losers said in the chat!”

“But-”

“NUH UH! You might be a normie, but you’re also my best friend!” MC feels an anime-inspired speech coming on. “Who cares about winning or losing one match? I’d rather lose every match I ever play from now on if it means I get to have you as my player 2!” Leviathan pauses as he realizes exactly what he just said and immediately turns beet red. “...you know... if you... wanted to, I guess...”

Satan

MC is in Devildom History with Satan, and as an exchange student, is having a rough time of it. They just don’t have the same background as the rest of the students, and can’t pick up on things as fast as they do.The teacher hands back the latest test and they cringe as they see their grade. Satan, sitting next to them, glances at the mark and gives them one of his small smiles.

“You know, if you need extra help, don’t be shy. I’d be happy to help you,” he says quietly.

Apparently not quietly enough, because a particularly rowdy pair of demons overhear him and choose that moment to make a nuisance of themselves. One of them snatches MC’s paper out of their hands, and upon seeing their grade starts laughing.

“How did you put the Abyssal Peace Treaty before the Abyssal War?! Everyone knows when that happened!” they continue chuckling at more silly mistakes MC made while very stressed during that test, while Satan’s blood starts boiling.

Much to his surprise, MC just smiles and joins in the demons’ laughter. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid...” they say with a falsely cheerful tone. Satan quickly catches on - they’re just fucking with these demons! He keeps his anger at bay with the anticipation of seeing MC really tear these lowlives a new-

“Wow, not even gonna defend yourself? Why do we even have human exchange students, they’re so boring.” The demon pair scoff and toss MC’s test back, before stalking off, annoyed that they didn’t get the reaction they wanted.

Hm. Frustrate them by not responding to their futile taunts. An interesting choice, but effective nonetheless. Satan expresses his appreciation of MC’s choice, much to their confusion. When they explain that they really were agreeing with what the demons had said, Satan doesn’t take it very well.

If MC doesn’t stop him, he’ll go over to the pair of demons that insulted them and drag their names through the dirt in front of the entire classroom, adding in some colourful suggestions about what would happen to them if they continued this behaviour. Either way, he’s furious enough that his demon form might start peeking out, tail thrashing behind him or horns growing out from his messy hair.

When class is over, Satan asks MC to stay behind.

“I want you to tell me why you feel this way about yourself,” he says. “Because I promise you, there isn’t a single explanation you can give that I won’t argue against. And I’m rarely wrong.”

Asmodeus

Asmo lives in a delightful bubble of flirtation, partying, and being the very best and prettiest being in all three realms. He works very hard to maintain this state, terrified of what he’d find on the other side of the haze.

But all it takes is one look at MC for it to come crashing down.

They’re at The Fall together, sipping on fruity drinks disguising unholy amounts of alcohol for a brief break before returning to the dance floor. Asmo knows MC struggles with confidence, and figured that if he could get them to have a good time, they would forget their insecurities for at least a little while.

And maybe he’s laying it on a bit thick with the flirting while they’re here. He can’t help it! He loves MC in a way he’s never really loved anyone else before. If he’s completely honest, the feeling scares him: he wants to put them before himself, and he’s not sure if he can, because he never has put someone else first before.

A demon notices Asmo’s lovesick staring at MC, and comments as they pass, “Oh my, has the Avatar of Lust sunken so low that he’s making eyes at some plain-jane human?” A long, scaled tail snakes around MC’s face, turning their head in the demon’s direction. “Or are you just a charity-fuck? You certainly won’t be able to hold his interest for long, darling.~”

The demon saunters off, and Asmodeus has half a mind to storm over to them and cause a scene, but the look on MC’s face stops him in his tracks.

They’re looking at him and they’re smiling.

“You don’t have to pretend to be upset about it,” they say, poking at their drink with their straw. “I know I’m not all that interesting. You just want me right now because I’m an ordinary human, right? And once the novelty wears off, well... I’m not powerful like a demon, or a wise magic user like Solomon, and I’m not exactly good-looking, so why keep me around? It’s been nice of you to pretend with me, though-”

He cuts them off with a passionate kiss, threading his fingers in their hair and pressing their bodies as close as possible. The gesture catches MC off guard and their drink spills on the two of them, but Asmo doesn’t even flinch. He only pulls away when MC starts panting from lack of oxygen.

“Please don’t say those awful things about yourself, MC,” Asmodeus says, eyes brimming with tears. “You’re...” One of the only people I don’t have to pretend around. “...You are so special to me. And you always will be.” Suddenly aware that they’ve both been soaked in a cocktail, Asmo smirks. “Oh dear, it seems our clothes are all dirty... I guess we’ll have to go back home and change, won’t we?”

Please let me prove to you how much I love you, he thinks as you tearfully smile and punch his arm before agreeing.

Beelzebub

Beel deals with survivor’s guilt, and if he’s not careful, it can lead to some pretty dark places. He’s also Belphie’s twin and is very familiar with what low self-esteem looks like. So whenever a demon tries to insult MC while he’s around, he doesn’t give them the chance to agree, calmly, but firmly jumping to their defence.

It doesn’t matter who it is or where they are, Beel always has MC’s back. Whenever they’re feeling especially down and that sad little smile is on their face, MC tends to find some of their favourite snacks tucked away into their bag or even their uniform pockets. The Avatar of Gluttony is also always ready to deploy some Emergency Cuddles, and is generally a steady, grounding presence in MC’s life. He starts to stick around them almost as much as Mammon does.

Unfortunately, this attracts the attention of some less than savoury people.

“Hey Beel! Coach wants you to know we’ve got an extra practice tomorrow! It’s semi-finals soon, and he wants to go over some new strategies,” a large, intimidating demon calls out, dressed in the RAD athletic uniform.

MC and Beel turn towards the demon’s voice, and Beel’s teammate makes a face upon seeing them. “You’re still hanging around them?” the demon asks. “Or are they clinging onto ya like a barnacle?” He laughs and MC lets go of Beel’s hand, blushing.

They have been around him an awful lot lately... Is he only doing it out of pity? Should they stop? Oh no, what if he thinks they’re annoying--

“I like MC,” Beel says plainly. “And I like spending time with them. So, tomorrow after classes is the next practice? I’ll be there.” He leaves no room for further debate. The demon stumbles over his words before confirming and abruptly running off.

MC doesn’t take Beel’s hand again.

“Hey,” Beelzebub takes MC’s much smaller hands into his own. “I mean it. I like you. Don’t listen to my teammate, he’s dumber than Mammon. Want to go have lunch together? I think they’re serving fried bats in the cafeteria...”

Belphegor

Sometimes, Belphegor peeks in on MC’s dreams. He never directly interacts with them, nor has he ever told them that he does this at all. Ever since he... ever since that happened, he’s made a conscious effort to avoid creeping them out even further, and he worries that this kind of behaviour would be frowned upon by a human.

But he can’t help it. Especially tonight.

After being woken up by a squirming MC, he decides to look into their dreams and see what is upsetting them so much. Much to his surprise, he finds himself inside one of RAD’s classrooms. MC is working on an assignment with a group of demons whose features keep shifting around. The writing on the books in front of them is illegible, and Belphegor only knows it’s writing at all because of his familiarity with dream physics.

“There they are,” whispers one of the demons. “What do they think they’re doing?”

MC asks a question about something in one of the books, pointing to a scribble that only looks like words when not focused on.

“Why do you care? It’s not like you can do anything useful for us anyway,” the demon snaps. “I’m not even sure why you’re here.” Belphegor frowns. Is this a memory?

MC meekly mentions the exchange program. “I don’t care!” The demon’s voice changes, and Belphegor suddenly feels the pitter-patter of raindrops on his skin, despite still being indoors. MC’s clothes are drenched in the invisible rain. “Fuck, can you not take a hint, MC? No one actually wants you here! You’re just a tag-along!”

“Why don’t you just pack up and leave then? Oh right, you have nowhere else to go!”

The figures of the demons become shadowy and elongated, hands sharpening into talons. MC jumps to their feet and backs away from the advancing figures, whose whispers become louder and interrupt each other.

“Just don’t mess it up again-”

“-never have trusted you! You ruin EVERYTHING-”

“Another disappointment, I see.”

“Don’t LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT-”

“Fucking whore!”

The voices continue, growing louder and louder until the figures melt into one familiar silhouette with violet eyes.

“You’re so stupid that I can’t help but laugh.” Belphegor’s blood runs cold. “You humans really are foolish, idiotic, weak creatures, aren’t you?”

The Avatar of Sloth watches helplessly as his dream-double wraps its hands around MC’s throat, cooing hideous insults at them all the while. Nonononono, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t know, I was just so- Ugh! That’s not an excuse, you idiot!

The dream-Belphegor pauses, grip slackening.

“Get off of them,” Belphegor hisses. “Now.”

The figure dissolves into the classroom, turning the surroundings completely black. Now Belphie finds himself standing in the creature’s place, in front of a confused MC.

“Are you okay?” he asks lamely.

“Why did you stop?” MC asks in return.

“I wasn’t... It was hurting you, and saying- I couldn’t keep letting it-”

MC smiles. “It’s just the truth. You said so yourself.”

MC and Belphegor wake up together, sweating, trapped in the other’s vice-like grip. MC’s pulse flutters under Belphie’s hands, way faster than it should be. It almost feels like when-

He twists out of their grasp, falling out of the bed in the process. He scrambles as far back as his room allows, nearly tripping over his own tail. MC stares at him through the darkness, torn between chasing after him and putting more distance between the two of them.

“...You saw that.” He doesn’t reply. “...Come here, Belphie.”

And slowly, he does.

For the next few weeks, Belphegor never leaves MC’s side unless absolutely necessary, even if he falls asleep next to them. He refuses to acknowledge this unusual behaviour, reacting with increasing hostility to anyone who mentions it. He also accompanies them to bed more often than not, much to Mammon’s chagrin.

“So long as I’m with you, no one else is going to talk to you like that ever again. I’m not going to let them, and I’m not going to let you just take it.”

#obey me: swd #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me: shall we date #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #headcanon #mine #long post #my writing

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