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skzsauce01 · 3 years

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Angel Sent From Up Above

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a new guardian angel, has fallen in love with a human. His human’s girlfriend, to be precise. Angel AU, background college AU and skater AU.

Warning: violence

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x guardian angel!Hyunjin; fem!reader x human!Jeongin

“Is she healed now?” Hyunjin asks the moment Jisung flies in. He knows Jisung is probably exhausted from keeping maladies away from you, but he needs the answer now. “Is her flu gone?”

“Yeah.” Jisung’s wings are tinged gray with ruin, but he keeps them on display for all the other guardian angels to see as he walks past them. They are proof that he has been doing his duty. They’ll return to white soon enough anyway. “Your human’s her boyfriend. Why didn’t you try to check through him? He visited a few times even though she told him not to.” Jisung sighs and shakes his head. “What an idiot. He’s going to get sick himself.”

“He hasn't visited recently, so I haven’t been able to check through him. The Archangel’s forbade me going to Earth unless it was something serious. I think he’s worried I'm spending too much time with humans.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I think he’s worried that he’s going to have to Seungmin you.”

“I'm not going to get expelled.”

Jisung shrugs, and ruin falls from his wings like ash. “You better watch out. You checked up on her too much last time she got sick, so he's probably trying to make sure you won't abandon your human. He's banished people for less. Case in point: Seungmin.”

“She's important to Jeongin, so she's important to me."

Jisung sighs. “Sometimes I think you’re more protective of her than I am.”

He says it as a joke, but Hyunjin knows it’s the truth. He cares deeply about you, maybe even more than his own human, but he will never say that last part aloud.

Hyunjin used to believe that becoming a guardian angel was the best thing that ever happened to him. All of his afterlife, he had wanted to be promoted, to be granted the pure white wings and the crown of sun rays. Regular angels had wings and halos but never white wings and golden halos; silver and silver was the “regular” combination.

Watching over a human was considered the highest honor an angel could receive, and everyone clamored to gain the attention of the Archangel. Hyunjin was not immune. He worked as a messenger for years, delivering even the most inane notes between the higher ups. He endured the attacks, verbal and sometimes physical, and kept his mouth shut. Eventually, the Archangel recognized his efforts, and before dawn broke on Earth, Hyunjin was named the new guardian angel of a baby boy, Yang Jeongin.

“You will protect him. You will guide him,” the Archangel said. “He is your responsibility now and yours alone. Do you understand?”

From Heaven, Hyunjin could only look at the wet, wrinkled face of his human. His human. “I understand.”

Then the Archangel flew off, and Hyunjin flew to Earth for the first time to meet the baby. No one noticed him as he phased through the hospital walls nor as his giant wings folded back. Only Jeongin would be able to see his guardian angel.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispered to the swaddled baby. The boy was fast asleep, and Hyunjin gently stroked his face. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Hyunjin, your official guardian angel. I’ll always be nearby now, and I’ll always make sure you’re safe. Sometimes you won’t be able to see me, but I’ll always be watching over you. I promise.”

Jeongin stirred awake and stared back at Hyunjin. Two sets of eyes blinked at each other, one full of curiosity and one full of tenderness.

“Go back to sleep,” Hyunjin said. He drew his hand over the baby’s face, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

Guardian angels talked about their humans like parents, bragging about how gifted they were and sharing complaints about what unbelievable thing they did the other day. Hyunjin mostly did the latter. Jeongin was an adventurous child, which was just a nice way of saying that he liked to play with danger. Hyunjin often had to fly in to save him or to redirect the threat somewhere else. The other angels joked that Hyunjin stayed on Earth more than Heaven sometimes. He didn’t mind though. Even with his human’s shortcomings, Hyunjin adored him. He watched from above as Jeongin said his first words, attended his first day of kindergarten, and got into his first fight.

“He’s a troublemaker,” Minho observed.

Minho was a guardian angel as well, but he tended to lurk on the outer edges of the realm as the other angels avoided him for a reason Hyunjin hadn’t figured out yet. Hyunjin liked him well enough and treated him like a mentor, sometimes a friend.

“Hey, you’re not one to talk. Your human started a black market of candy at school.”

Minho shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Jeongin didn’t end up growing up into a troublemaker, to Hyunjin’s relief. The impulsive streak was still there, but he utilized his judgement more now. There were no car crashes or cases of alcohol poisoning, and when Jeongin asked out girls, it was with daisy bouquets and a suggestion to get lunch. Hyunjin slowly stopped making routine trips to Earth and chose to view Jeongin from the comfort of Heaven. It was there that Hyunjin noticed you.

“I think she’s upset with him,” Jisung abruptly says. “She cried after a video call with him, so if your human starts acting strangely, that’s why.”

The news makes Hyunjin stop mid-step, and he turns to his friend. “She cried? What? What did she cry about?”

“I don’t know. I was too busy trying to lower her temperature. Can you believe that she almost hit—”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I just got back! There is no ‘earlier!’ Besides, we aren't allowed to interfere in anything that isn't dangerous. Heartbreak, if this is even what this is, is temporary."

“Humans do drastic things for love.” The movies has seen while watching Jeongin have told him that much.

“Which we will attend to when it happens. You’re a new guardian; you’ll understand them better over time. Not everything is life-threatening, fragile as they are.”

Hyunjin turns away from Jisung and glances down at Earth. The clouds part, and all of the brick buildings of the university rush towards his eyes as he focuses on Jeongin. He’s asleep at his desk, his lamp still burning bright above him. How long has it been since the video call? Or perhaps he’s just tired from the events of his day. But he looks so small and vulnerable in his chair. Jeongin isn’t fragile — the amount of situations he has gotten out of covered in bruises and blood is astronomical — but he is mortal.

“But she loves him,” Hyunjin softly says, “and he loves her.”

“Exactly. Humans fight over small things all the time, and this is one of those times.” Jisung places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder to placate him. “Trust me.”

“... I trust you.”

“Good. I need to rest, but we can catch up and see what stupid things they do after.”

The moment Jisung flies off to the rest area, Hyunjin goes against the Archangel’s orders and flies to your apartment. When he peers inside your bedroom window, he spots you sitting in bed in the dark, your phone screen illuminating your face. He phases inside and sits at your desk chair, resting his forearms at the top rail. You can’t see him, but he wishes that you could.

You mindlessly scroll through messages, sniffling every few seconds. Whether it’s from your crying or your illness, he doesn’t know. He can’t hand you a tissue or tell you comforting things or hug you like Jeongin can. When you wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, he wraps his wings around himself as well.

Suddenly you throw your phone beside you and let out a heavy sigh. “It can’t get any worse than this,” you say to yourself.

Hyunjin waits for you to say more, but you only stare at the ceiling with blank eyes. He can’t compel you to talk; only Jisung can, but he’s not here. So instead, Hyunjin knocks over the glass of water on your bed when you shift into a more comfortable position.

“Of course it can,” you sigh again and blot as much water as you can with your tissues. You pull another one out of the box with more force than necessary and furiously dab your sheets. “First I get sick, then I miss a homework deadline that I can’t make up because my professor lost his heart thirty years ago along with his hair, then my boyfriend breaks up with me for like no reason, apparently I have an exam tomorrow, and now I’ve spilled water all over my bed, so I can’t even sleep. Thank you, universe. I really needed this.”

He immediately regrets his decision.

“Worst freaking week of my life,” you mumble as you throw away the wet tissues. Hyunjin almost reaches out for your arm when you pass by, but he retracts it just in time.

When you climb back into bed, you draw your blanket up to your chin and begin murmuring numbers. They come out calm and even at first, but they become more tense as time passes. Hyunjin half-listens as he scans the contents of your desk. A laptop, a shopping bag, an open notebook with doodles on the margins, an uncapped black pen, and a pack of gum. He presses his forefinger to the point of the pen, drawing a tiny heart by touch. Then he stamps the heart among all your misshapen stars and imaginary flowers. You might just think it’s an ink smear, but he hopes you look at it and smile.

You hit three hundred and forty-seven before you begin to sound drowsy. Hyunjin stands at the foot of your bed, watching as you finally drift off in the middle of three hundred and ninety-three. Serenity settles across your features.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier. Good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers. He pats the corner of your bed before flying off into the night.

He needs to see Jeongin.

It was hard not to notice you when you were on a collision course with Jeongin. You were going too fast, and Hyunjin’s wings couldn’t carry him to Earth in milliseconds. With horror, he watched as you sharply turned the building corner on your skateboard and just barely jumped off in time when you saw Jeongin about to make the same turn.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked as he hurried to stop your runaway board.

“I should be asking you that!” you exclaimed as you followed him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have veered that close to the wall. You’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Good. I can’t risk getting sued again.” Unsure of how to respond, Jeongin nudged back your board to you. You neatly stopped it mid-roll with your foot. “Thanks, by the way. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You kicked off, but before you left the area, you turned around and gave him a wave. Jeongin waved back, albeit more shyly than you. After a moment’s hesitation, he yelled out, “Be careful!”

“I’ll try!”

Jeongin laughed and turned the corner, looking at the brick wall with more wistfulness than most people usually did. Before he entered the building, he peeked around the next corner, as if he expected you to come speeding by again. You didn’t.

After that, he noticed you more often, usually swerving around strangers as you cut through campus. Whenever he had the opportunity to say hello, he did so with a smile, and you returned it with a waggle of your fingers before disappearing into the crowd. Once, you nearly crashed into a railing. You laughed it off and gave him another wave along with a funny face. Hyunjin felt something inside him melt. Jeongin must have too since he headed to his next class with the most lovestruck expression Hyunjin had ever seen on him.

It was then that Jeongin began forming a plan.

Two weeks after the first meeting, Jeongin waited in the quad for you to show up. Just as he hoped, you came walking down the steps fifteen minutes later, skateboard tucked underneath your arm. It was supposed to seem like a coincidence, but Hyunjin had followed Jeongin as he scoured nearby skate spots, asking around about you. Yesterday, he had learned where you liked to practice tricks. He got up from his bench, hands hidden behind his back, and approached you with the same moves and confidence he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror.

“Hey! How have you been?” he called up from the very bottom.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin groaned. Jisung, who Hyunjin had tracked down two days prior to this, also did so.

“You said he was a charmer,” Jisung complained. “Look at him. He can’t even charm dogs with a treat.”

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Just wait though. It’s going to get better.”

Jisung huffed. “It better. She deserves the best.”

Fortunately, you took it all in stride and waved hello at Jeongin. When you were finally beside him, you answered, “I’ve been good, thanks. You’re not here to sue me, right?”

“No! I was actually wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. If you have time, that is.”

“Really? But I almost killed you that one time. I mean, I’d be happy to, but it’s kind of weird after what happened.”

“I’d rather skateboard than walk, and you seem pretty good at it.”

You shifted your weight to one foot, and Hyunjin chuckled when he saw Jeongin’s eyes wander to your jutted-out hip. Jisung made a noise of disapproval.

“Okay, what is this really about?”

“Skateboarding,” Jeongin said. Then he took a step closer and held out a bundle of daisies towards you. “And lunch, if you want.”

You broke out into a grin. “I am a little hungry right now. L/N Y/N, skateboarding extraordinaire and ramen enthusiast, at your service.”

“Yang Jeongin, also a ramen enthusiast. Nice to officially meet you.”

Jeongin is still sleeping at his desk when Hyunjin arrives. He shifts and exhales when the wind from Hyunjin’s wings create a small breeze but does not wake.

“How could you break up with her?” Hyunjin says. “She’s amazing and wonderful, and you decide that you don't want to be with her? Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Silence.

“If I were human, I would have never done that, but…”

Jeongin shifts again, burying himself deeper into the crumpled hoodie he’s using as a pillow. The table squeaks, and a mechanical pencil rolls off the desk. Hyunjin quietly places the pencil back to its initial place and shuts off the lamp.

“Take care of yourself, and make good choices, okay? I can’t do that for you.”

Instead of flying back to Heaven, he perches on the roof of the building across from Jeongin’s. Jeongin finally wakes up and notices that his light is off. He glances at it confusedly for a few seconds, wondering if he misremembered leaving it on. In the end, he decides it’s not worth the effort and falls into his bed. He didn’t even spare you a thought, a crime in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Then he realizes he may have a bigger problem on his hands.

Jisung.

Jisung is going to be very upset when he finds out about this.

Over the weekend, you brought Jeongin to the quad to learn the basics.

“Put both feet on the board now,” you said as you walked alongside a skateboarding Jeongin. He was borrowing yours to practice, so he treated it with more reverence than a well-used board would need. Even though he was pushing with his back foot, he was going at a snail’s pace.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to lose my balance and fall.”

Perhaps it wasn’t reverence after all.

You shook your head. “No, you won’t. You’re not going that fast anyway. You can just step off if you really feel like you are. Give it a shot.”

To his credit, Jeongin lifted his foot a few centimeters off the ground before planting it back. “I’m going to lose control.”

While you did your best to persuade Jeongin to give it another try, Jisung gave Hyunjin a dissatisfied look. “I remember you telling me he was a daredevil. What is happening?”

He didn’t exactly know either. “He’s in front of his crush; give him a break.”

“These two better not end up dating. She deserves so much better than him.”

Hyunjin gave him a dirty look, Jisung gave him a “What? It’s true” type of a shrug.

You step in front of the board. “How about this?” you said. “You stand on the board with both feet, and I’ll pull you along so you can get used to the feeling and be less of a scaredy cat.”

“Okay.”

You took both of his hands and slowly guided him backwards. At the same time, you instructed him to put more weight on one side to change directions. Jeongin was surprisingly stable, and Hyunjin watched proudly as his human suggested that you increase your speed a little.

“See? It’s not bad?” you said. “Keeping balance isn’t that hard, right?”

“Yeah. Also,” he grinned, his meek demeanor completely gone, “we’re holding hands now.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at your joined hands, and you let out a delighted gasp. “You sneaky little—” Much to Jeongin’s alarm, you let go and smirked. “If you go past the bench without constantly pushing, I’ll let you hold my hand when you walk me home.”

“Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that I would offer to walk you home,” he teased, resting one foot on the floor. “Or is that what you want me to do?”

“You asked me to lunch with flowers. You were going to.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Then he kicked off, skating past the bench with ease. Still going, he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Do you want to grab doughnuts before you head home?”

“Watch the lamp!” you yelled as you ran towards him. “Jeongin, stop looking at me and turn around!”

The collision with the lamppost was unavoidable, so Hyunjin simply watched as Jeongin took a flying leap off your board and took a tumble on the concrete. While you fumbled for band aids — Jeongin’s knee was scraped and bloody — Jeongin patted his pockets to check that his phone had not fallen out.

“So doughnuts?” he sheepishly asked.

“Sure. I’ll buy.” You finally found one hidden in the bottom of your backpack along with an alcohol wipe. “Guess you get to hold my hand after all.”

“How are you so prepared?” he asked, nodding to the contents you had unceremoniously dumped out whilst rummaging. “You have tweezers and gauze?”

“My mom made me carry a first-aid kit with me when she found out that I skate to class. It comes in handy.” You ripped open the package. “This might hurt.”

“You can kiss it to feel better.”

You laughed and pressed the alcohol wipe to his knee. “You’re such a flirt, I love it. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, hurts a lot.”

You opted to kiss the band aid instead, causing Jeongin to pout and Jisung to sigh in relief. When you stuck it onto his skin, Jeongin made a big production of being relieved from pain, which made you laugh and shove him.

“No! She’s in love with him,” Jisung groaned. His wings drooped, and Hyunjin swore his halo actually dimmed when you kept your hands in Jeongin’s after you pulled him up. “Well, Hyunjin, looks like you and I are going to be best friends.”

Hyunjin personally saw no issue with that. Like Jeongin, he had been charmed by your antics and your easygoing nature. Protecting his human’s friends, family, or lovers wasn’t part of Hyunjin’s duty, but he felt compelled to watch over you too.

Because if he were human, he would have fallen in love with you too.

In the midst of his lamenting, Jisung flies down and sits beside him on the roof. His wings are still slightly gray, and Hyunjin strangely begins to feel self-conscious of his pure white ones.

“Didn’t the Archangel forbid you from doing frivolous things?” Jisung says in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you at her apartment earlier.”

“I just wanted to check up on her. Not that I thought you lied,” he hastily adds. “I wanted to see for myself. She’s a little… distraught.”

“She got into a fight with her boyfriend. It’s normal.” When Hyunjin doesn’t reply or even make a sound, he grows concerned. “Is it something else? She’s getting sued, isn’t she? I knew it was going to happen someday. When I find that smug richie-rich, I’m going to—”

“Jeongin broke up with her.”

“What.”

Hyunjin repeats his sentence, trying to block the view of Jeongin’s bedroom with his body. Jisung looks like he’s ready to rain judgement onto him, and while Hyunjin is rather good at his job, he’s not sure if he can hold back an enraged guardian angel. Jisung takes several deep breaths before regaining the little composure he can muster.

“I knew I hated him for a reason. I knew he didn’t deserve her,” he spits out, though the venom in his voice wavers. “Why would he even break up with her? She loved him so much.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“When you find out, let me know. I’m going to see her now.”

Hyunjin stays on the roof until sunrise. Jeongin sleeps without any trouble, and when he wakes up, he looks fresh-faced, no guilt hanging over his head. Hyunjin feels something inside him cracking apart.

You truly don’t deserve this.

“Do you think they’re going to crash and burn?” Jisung asked as he studied you and Jeongin walking through the park, practically glued to each other’s sides. “I think they’re moving too fast. It’s only been a month.”

Hyunjin really didn’t care about that. As long as you and Jeongin were happy, he was happy. “A month is a pretty long time for them. Mortal lives are short.”

“Exactly. They should be more selective about their life choices.”

Hyunjin only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. You were pointing at the tiny carousel in the middle and tugging at Jeongin’s sleeve. You dragged him over and pushed a coin into the slot for the ride. The lights lit up and a carnival theme played while you struggled to wedge yourself between the saddle of an elephant and the roof of the carousel. Jeongin sat on the edge, beside the tiger, and chuckled at your flailing limbs.

Hyunjin suppressed his own laugh. You were something special. Just last week, the two of you had made it official and started dating. You had done it in the sweetest possible way.

You had taken him to a local skateboarding shop to help him pick out his first board. Once he had chosen one — the ‘one’ being a light blue deck patterned with multicolored doughnuts — the staff at the shop sent him to the back to try it out. Meanwhile, you made the age-old excuse of needing to use the restroom when you were actually getting the flowers you had hidden in the back.

Hyunjin had turned into a pile of fluff when you gave Jeongin the daisy bouquet and asked if he wanted to officially be your boyfriend. You were so earnest. Jeongin playfully pretended to think it over, a feat Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t have been able to do if he were in his position. There were no fireworks or confetti when Jeongin finally said yes, but the staff did clap and cheer. Jisung looked on with contempt. Hyunjin looked on with envy.

“You know,” Jisung abruptly said, snapping Hyunjin back to the present, “when her last boyfriend broke up with her, she had ice cream for dinner for a week.”

“Oh.”

“You see why I’m being wary of him now?”

Hyunjin did, but Jeongin was different. His previous relationships always ended well, and on one occasion, he remained friends with his ex. He sighed and decided that a change of topic was necessary so he wouldn’t have to potentially endure a tirade. “Did you hear about Minho’s human? The bank he worked at got robbed, and he got held at gunpoint.”

That caught the overprotective Jisung’s ear. “What? Is he okay?”

During Hyunjin’s recountment of Minho’s recountment, the carousel ride ended. You squeezed out of your spot, hitting your head on the roof, and Jeongin pulled you in for a forehead kiss. The world grew brighter when you smiled, he realized.

Hyunjin shadows Jeongin around all day, hoping to learn the reason for the breakup. Unfortunately, Jeongin doesn’t say anything. He does show some regret though, as he scrolls through past messages and old pictures. When he heads to classes, he opts to walk instead of skateboarding like usual and avoids the quad whenever possible.

In the evening, while Jeongin is chewing on his salad like a cow to cud, Hyunjin pays you a visit. He finds in the freezer section of the grocery store with three pints of ice cream in your basket. From the looks of it, you’re about to add another three to your haul. Peanut butter pretzel sounds equal parts delicious and confusing.

Hyunjin studies your expression, frowning at the same time you do. Your eyes are ringed with red, your jaw tight, and your eyebrows seem permanently furrowed. When he follows you back home, he half expects you to start crying on the way, but you hold fast and manage to open a pint of the salted caramel flavor before the tears finally come. There’s no wailing, just sniffling and the sound of you furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. In the midst of it all, you find the strength to reorganize the freezer to make space for the other pints. Something about that makes Hyunjin’s heart drop.

By the time your roommate discovers you in the kitchen, the entire refrigerator has been reorganized and the ice cream finished. You sit in a dark room, your finger hovering above the ‘SEND’ button of a message to Jeongin. Hyunjin can see it if he flies above you: “Can you please just tell me why? You keep saying you did something wrong, but I don’t even know what it is. Please let me decide if it’s worth breaking up over.”

“Rough day?” she gently asks as she flips on the switch.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I just wanna process it right now,” you hollowly say. You grab your skateboard — the same black, paint-splattered one you had last year — and unlock the front door. “I’m going out for a ride, but I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Stay safe.”

After you leave, Jisung phases through the kitchen walls and hisses at Hyunjin, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

He nearly forgot about him. Eating dinner isn’t a dangerous task anyway though. Besides, if Jeongin does get physically harmed somehow, Hyunjin will feel an echo of the pain. Hyunjin glances at the door, and Jisung shakes his head.

“I’ll take care of her. Go back to Jeongin, and make sure he’s okay. You can’t keep leaving him all the time.”

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good.”

Hyunjin reluctantly goes back to Jeongin, who is still eating his salad. His resolve from last night is clearly gone as evidenced by his melancholy expression as he scrolls through even more photos. The one of you in mid-air makes him clutch his phone.

“Let me get one of you when you’re really high up,” Jeongin suggested. He was comfortable gliding around on a skateboard now, but nowhere comfortable enough to try any tricks. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from trying to get him to learn. The “pop shove it” was your favorite, solely for the amount of height you could get.

“Okay.”

As you did over and over again for your enthusiastic boyfriend who was unfortunately not that great of a photographer, Hyunjin observed from a rooftop behind Jeongin. Sometimes you looked like you were flying. He could imagine wings protruding from your back, and if the sun hit you just right, there appeared to be a halo as well.

“I got one!” Jeongin exclaimed as he held up his device to you. “Look.”

Hyunjin couldn’t see for himself, but your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ once you took a first glance. A flustered smile made its way onto your face, and everything about you turned soft.

“This looks amazing,” you said. You sidled up to him and rested your cheek against his shoulder, turning your head towards him. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a few seconds as both Hyunjin and Jeongin tried to process them. This was the first time you had ever said them, and it came seemingly out of nowhere. Hyunjin recovered first.

“Say ‘I love you’ back, you moron,” Hyunjin whispered, like Jeongin would be able to hear him from this distance. “‘I love you too.’”

“I wanted to say it first,” Jeongin finally said. “Ugh, I had it all planned out too. We were supposed to get doughnuts after this, and I was going to buy you one of those heart-shaped ones.”

You kissed him on the cheek and intertwined your fingers with his. “We can still do that.”

At the doughnut shop, he said the words second, and you kissed him again, leaving a crystal of glaze on the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin licked his lips as if you had left it on him instead.

“Did you find out?” Jisung asks when Hyunjin leaves Jeongin to check up on you. You’re skating around the city, making sharp swerves and weaving in-between lampposts. Jisung is trailing behind you in the sky, but he slows when he sees Hyunjin approaching.

“No, but—”

“Then go back to him. Hyunjin,” Jisung sighs, “I know you care about her, but she’s not your human. Jeongin’s your responsibility.”

“I know but—”

“Go back. And I’m telling you this not as your friend but as your senior. You’re a guardian angel, and you need to take your responsibilities seriously. I’ll get the Archangel involved if I have to. Do you want to get Seungminned?”

The threat of the Archangel strangely doesn’t scare him anymore, however. In fact, the Archangel being involved may solve many of his current issues.

“I’ll find you again when I find out,” Hyunjin slowly says.

Jisung nods in approval before racing after you again. Hyunjin heads to Heaven, not to keep an eye over his human but to become human.

Ten months into Jeongin’s relationship with you, Hyunjin asked Minho, “Is it possible to give up your divinity?”

Minho gave Hyunjin a curious look. “Is being a guardian angel that taxing for you? You haven’t even experienced a full lifespan yet. I know, twenty year-olds are annoying, but it’s not nearly as bad as forty year-olds and their mid-life crisis.”

“I’m just curious. Or, as a last resort,” he added, hoping that Minho would stop being suspicious if he joked about it. “My human’s been making some dumb choices.”

A lie, but Minho fell for it.

“I told you he was going to be a troublemaker!” he cackled. He sympathetically patted Hyunjin’s back. “If I’m being honest, I thought about it a few times. I always get assigned to the troublemakers. Probably because the higher-ups hate me for not tolerating their BS. They’re always playing favorites. Anyway, the easiest way is to get expelled by the Archangel. It’s happened a few times before.”

“Can’t you just ask him?”

Minho smirked. “You don’t think other angels have tried that? He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

“What’s the hard way then?”

“Same thing minus the Archangel getting involved: your wings getting cut off,” he matter-of-factly answered. “The halo will break once your wings are detached. It’s only been done once, by the way.”

Hyunjin absentmindedly rubbed the area where the bones of his wings met with his shoulder blades. All he needed were two clean cuts across his practically impenetrable back.

“How do you do that?”

“With the Archangel’s sword. Another angel has to cut it though; you can’t do it yourself.”

The Archangel would likely banish him to Hell for even asking about his weapon. If Hyunjin ever did manage to steal the sword away, Jisung would never agree to it. He couldn’t just ask any angel to help him.

“How do you know about all this?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho hesitated, something he rarely did. He quickly recovered, hiding his sudden apprehension with his usual devil-may-care nonchalance. “I can’t give away all of my secrets.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. The word hung in the air like the sun, and Hyunjin knew that Minho would tell him because underneath all of his bluster was loneliness. Because no one liked Minho, or if they did, they still avoided him anyway.

“Yeah, we are,” Minho answered, smiling for a second before a strange expression crossed over his face, pride mixed with a touch of sadness. “Do you really think the Archangel would have expelled one of his favorite guardian angels that easily?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seungmin. He asked me to cut his wings for him.”

“I need you to cut my wings,” are Hyunjin’s first words to Minho after not speaking to him for days.

To his credit, Minho is only speechless for a few seconds. The dove in his hand pecks at him for more headpats before he recovers. “Well, do you have the sword?”

“No, but I think I can get it. When I do though, would you do it? You’re the only one I trust.”

Minho sighs and tosses the bird out of Heaven, grimacing a bit when he hears it squawk. When he faces Hyunjin, he smiles the same smile he did when he talked about Seungmin. “It’s always me, huh? I’ll do you one better. I’ll steal the sword for you. The Archangel’s been pissing me off anyway.”

For once, Hyunjin’s thoughts are not on you but his friend. He imagined that Minho would be willing, but perhaps he’s too willing. “Are you trying to get expelled as well? We can go together.”

“No, I like being immortal. I hate all of the BS I get put through sometimes, but the Archangel can’t kick me out. He swore an oath to me a long time ago before he got promoted, and it’s pretty much unbreakable. Besides, even Heaven needs a scapegoat.”

That explains why virtually no angels interact with Minho, Hyunjin being the exception. He has never heard of the Archangel being oathsworn, though it seems likely that the Archangel wants to keep that a secret.

“How are you going to get it?” Hyunjin asks. “How did Seungmin even get it? The Archangel always has it with him.”

“Seungmin was one of his favorites,” Minho reminds him. “He had easy access to him, and the Archangel trusted him enough to let him borrow it for ‘a study.’ Don’t worry about me though. Just wait for me on Earth. Somewhere where no one goes. I’ll find you, slice off your wings, and the Archangel won’t even know what happened to you.”

“That’s not possible. He always keeps it on him.”

Minho shrugs, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve done it before. Why do you think I’m the scapegoat?”

Seungmin. For Minho and now Hyunjin, being Seungminned didn’t mean being expelled for being frivolous anymore; it meant leaving of your own accord.

“What happened to him?” Hyunjin asked. “Why didn’t the Archangel grant his divinity back? Someone should have spotted him on Earth.”

Minho’s wry grin was back. “You think the Archangel wanted everyone to find out the golden boy of Heaven no longer wanted to be an angel? Plenty of angels already saw him roaming Earth. It was easier to let everyone think that Seungmin was banished. So when they saw him on Earth, he was just a fallen angel, nothing important.” He nudged Hyunjin’s arm, and the solemn atmosphere vanished. “A troublemaking human isn’t all that bad. Like I said, the twenties are annoying, but they’re manageable. Is he one of those partying types?”

“He goes out sometimes,” Hyunjin carefully replied. Jeongin liked hanging out with his friends and you — mostly you, now that Hyunjin thought about it — but he wasn’t getting blackout drunk every night. At least, Hyunjin hoped he wasn’t. He usually watched over you if you were ever in the vicinity. “Speaking of which, I should check up on him.”

Minho said his goodbyes, and Hyunjin flew back to Earth once he saw that you weren’t with Jeongin. You were studying at your desk, rolling a pen between your fingers, reading through a document on your laptop. The desk light casted a warm glow on your face. You frowned, and your lower lip swelled outwards.

He wished he were human.

Just as Minho said, Hyunjin waits for him to arrive in a secluded part of the university campus. The building rooftop is devoid of anyone, and the area surrounding it is empty as well. The evening turns into night, then night into the early morning when the sky begins lightening. Still, Minho has not come.

He distantly wonders how Jeongin is faring and his promise to Jisung. When he’s human, he’ll ask Jeongin directly, maybe in disguise of a survey: “Why did you break up with your last partner?” Even to him, it sounds stupid. However, that’s not the real reason why he’s giving up his divinity, so it hardly matters to him. Jisung is resourceful; he’ll find out eventually.

Finally, when the sun peeks over the horizon, Minho descends from Heaven, a familiar silver sword in his hand. He lands beside Hyunjin, a triumphant smile on his face. But his usual humor has been replaced with solemnity.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks as he rests the blade on the top of Hyunjin’s wings.

He has never felt so sure of anything in his life. “Yes.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Then make it quick.”

Searing pain shoots through his body as the sword pierces through the thin skin and into the bone. The process is not as nearly as seamless as Hyunjin hoped it would be, and Minho breathes heavily as he pushes the blade down. Bones snap, feathers drift to the floor, and blood trickles down his back. The pain only grows greater near the end, but Hyunjin grits his teeth and keeps quiet. Dawn breaks when his wings finally fall to the floor, no longer white but splattered with red. Soon they fade into dust, and the remnants scatter into the wind. His golden halo shatters into sunlight. The world dulls as the last of his powers disappear, but everything feels much better than when he was an angel.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Minho, who he cannot even look at anymore. His eyes would be burned.

“You’re fallen, not quite mortal and not quite divine. You won’t be affected by all of an angel’s power.”

When Hyunjin cautiously glances at him, Minho waves the bloody sword at him. “See?”

“Yeah.” He wanted humanity, but this is good enough for him. He just needs you to be able to see him, hear him, touch him.

“I need to go back before Heaven becomes Hell, but find Seungmin if you can. He can help you figure things out. Last I heard, he’s living somewhere in the mountains.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Minho, I can’t even put it into words about how much this means to me. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Minho pats his shoulder before stripping off his clean shirt. “Clean yourself before you leave. No one wants to witness a walking crime scene this early in the morning.”

When he flies back to Heaven, the last thing Hyunjin sees are his wings, still pure white.

“Hey,” you said as you laced your fingers with Jeongin’s. He had just finished class, and you had waited for him outside the building. Hyunjin had sat on the other end of the bench, savoring the proximity. That was the closest he would ever get to you. “Are you busy tonight? The skate shop just announced — literally an hour ago, those jerks — that they were doing a midnight drop, and I kind of want a new deck.”

“Ugh, I’ve been meaning to buy new trucks, but I have to meet up with my group tonight. Send me pictures though.”

Disappointment only momentarily flooded through Hyunjin. If it was anything like the last two meetups, it would be at the library, and the library was a safe place. Jeongin would be fine there. Hyunjin would be free to shadow you as you went to the skate shop.

“I can get it for you,” you offered.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll just wait for a sale.”

“Don’t be surprised if I do get you new trucks,” you warned. You let go of his hand and held his arm. “I still owe you for last month’s dinner.”

Jeongin shook his head again, a smile making its way onto his face. “You don’t owe me anything but a kiss.”

“Flirt,” you laughed as you pressed your lips to his cheek. “Never change, Yang Jeongin.”

That night at the skate shop, Hyunjin hovered above you as you stood in line, chatting with others. There were no unscrupulous characters around, but he stayed with you, only going back to Jeongin when Jisung insisted. However, by then, Hyunjin had already seen you eyeing the shiny teal trucks through the window. Hyunjin knew nothing about skateboards even after all those months, but you seemed pleased by them.

“You’re only getting trucks for sure?” your brand new acquaintance asked. “This is, like, the biggest drop they’ve ever done.”

You shrugged. “I’m kind of on the fence about the decks I saw on the email. I don’t know. Maybe wheels too?”

Meanwhile, Jisung hissed, “Hyunjin, go before something happens. What if a fight breaks out?”

Hyunjin sincerely doubted that one would happen at the library. He lingered around, taking his time unfolding his wings and stretching them.

“Your boyfriend’s lucky,” your acquaintance sighed.

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

Daisies, that’s what he needs right now. Choosing the rooftop of a building was not a smart decision, but the access door is thankfully unlocked, and Hyunjin races down all of the emergency stairs. However, with no form of currency on him, Hyunjin heads to the quad, hoping that he can pull up some dandelions for you. You need to be supported, and bright yellow flowers are just the thing.

What he doesn’t expect though, is to find you doing pop shove its at your usual spot. It’s so early in the day; did you even go back to your apartment to sleep?

“Good morning,” he calls as he walks closer. He waves at you, and you can see him! You tentatively wave back and give him a halfhearted smile. “How are you today? You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, and I’m fine,” you politely reply as you take a step back away from him. “What about you?”

Hyunjin curses in his head and takes another step towards you. “I’m good. Really good, actually. I was wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. I’m new here, and skateboarding seems like an efficient way to get around.”

You flinch at his words, and he desperately wants to take them back. How did Jeongin do it? Why do his statements come out so stiff? “You seem pretty good at it.”

“Are you not cold?” you blurt out. Hyunjin curses again as he realizes that he’s shirtless. His old one was stained, and Minho’s was as well as the result of his cleanup. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “You know, I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.”

“Hyunjin. My name’s Hyunjin.”

“Nice meeting you, Hyunjin.”

You grab your board and immediately head off to the direction of your apartment. Hyunjin is tempted to follow, but he stays where he is. A bad first impression isn’t the end of the world. The only thing holding him back is his lack of a shirt.

He wanders through the quad, scanning the grass for some flowers. Most of them are the white, fluffy dandelions, but he needs the bright yellow version. However, he takes the white ones anyway in case he can’t find any. The wind scatters the seeds, and he—

“Hyunjin, I told you not to come back.”

Jisung.

Hyunjin turns around, dropping his bouquet onto the ground. To his horror, not only is Jisung present but also the Archangel. His sword is strapped to his side like usual, not a blood splatter tainting it. Minho did an excellent job of cleaning up the crime scene.

“Jisung, Archangel,” Hyunjin nervously greets. The Archangel frightens him now. “How can I help you?”

“Jisung, why did you bring me here?” the Archangel asks. “I have other things to attend to.”

“He’s abandoned his human too many times, and I don’t think he’s fit to be a guardian angel anymore.”

The Archangel grasps the hilt of his sword and studies Hyunjin, up and down, back and forth. He circles him, and Hyunjin can almost feel his mortality-divinity shining through his body. Jisung hasn’t noticed yet, but there is no doubt the Archangel hasn’t.

“Normally,” the Archangel begins, “the punishment for not fulfilling your duties as a guardian angel is being expelled from Heaven. But you have already fallen.”

“What?” comes Jisung’s shocked voice.

“It was a mistake,” Hyunjin tries. Minho’s words ring in his ear: He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. “I thought I wanted humanity, but I’ve realized that being a guardian angel is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please. Grant me my divinity back. I will never abandon my human again. I will swear an oath if I have to.”

The Archangel smiles with no teeth, and a chill runs down Hyunjin’s spine. “I’m in a forgiving mood today, so I will do just as you ask. Your divinity will be granted back, but you will no longer be a guardian angel. I’m stripping you of those powers and those duties. You will be replaced immediately. It was my mistake for tasking you with such a large responsibility when you weren’t ready yet.”

With just a snap of the Archangel’s fingers, Hyunjin’s senses sharpen, and the world comes hurtling at him. Nothing is dull anymore, but everything feels so dark and wrong. You will never be able to see him, hear him, or talk to him again. And he will never be able to either. Power surges inside of him, and new wings burst through his shoulder blades, fanning out once they reappear. A silver halo hangs over his head. There is no physical pain into becoming immortal again, yet he wishes there was something. Everything he and Minho did was erased with ease.

Hyunjin swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he chokes out.

“You’re very welcome. Come along now. Only guardian angels are allowed to be on Earth.”

Hyunjin follows the Archangel back to Heaven while Jisung goes after you. The Archangel loudly deliberates on who he should be replaced with, and Hyunjin knows that his request was not granted with kindness. The Archangel informs that he will be a messenger again. Hyunjin barely hears him as he takes one last look at Earth. Jeongin is there. Jisung is there. You are there.

Hyunjin avoids Minho’s eyes as he flies inside the realm behind the Archangel and hides among the rest of the regular angels until he is called to send a message. The higher-ups recognize him, make snide remarks about his demotion, and make pitiful faces at him. He barely registers them. There is a hollowness in him, and no matter how many memories he recalls, it isn’t enough to fill the void.

A few weeks later, Jisung approaches him, but even he stays a healthy distance away. “Hyunjin.” The disdain is clear.

“Jisung.”

“You knew about the reason all along, didn’t you? You were there when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

Realization dawns upon Jisung, and he shakes his head in disgust. “I should have known. You weren’t with him that night because you left him like you always did! You could have done something. Make him fall off his chair or something. Make the girl lose her balance. Instead, both of our humans suffered because you weren’t there.”

“What happened?”

“A girl from his group project randomly kissed him, and he thought he had been leading her on and cheating on his own girlfriend, so he broke up with her because he thought that would be the right thing to do instead of just telling her what actually happened. They’re back together now because he finally got the nerve to give her closure. It took nearly a month. They were miserable for a month. All because of you.”

It stings. “They’re okay now, right?”

“They’re fine, no thanks to you.” Just when Hyunjin thinks he’s going to leave, he takes a step forward, lips curled into sneer. “You know, angels and humans aren’t allowed to be with each other. It’s been forbidden for millenia.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But I loved her, and I had to try.”

“She would have never chosen you anyway.”

He never had a chance, did he?

~ ad.gray

Yes, you did! I remembered it and wondered if you were going to come back! Hope you enjoyed this! <3

#stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids angst #skz angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #guardian angel au #anniversary special #20210816

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corysmiles · 3 years

Note

Could you believe I actually am back with some Runnaway Experiment WRITING??? :D

This takes place very early on in the story, and gives some more insight into Tommy's life before they escaped (in the comics). Enjoy :D

-------

The experiment was growing years after years, to everyone’s delight. It seemed the first laboratorial human had a decent enough lifespan so that it could be studied in the long run. And so, 14 years, it has been since T0M saw the light of day, and it acted in a similar fashion a 14 year old human would. .

Of course, the many researchers failed to take in consideration an alteration of the most cumbersome. T0M looked human, could understand the english language, followed orders and didn’t complain, asked some questions but the specimen…. was big.

Too big to fit in a human bed.

Too big to fit comfortably in a room.

It went in spurts, which was terrifying the first time. It kept on growing and growing, as scientists hoped it wouldn't take long for it to stop, otherwise, it might lead to a lot of problems. But for the past 2 years, no noticeable change really occurred, which was a relief when the thing was already 25 ft tall. It never seemed to be challenging personality wise, which was a relief, but they still needed to keep him in line.

Hopefully, the Doctor Soot, as well as Doctor Puff took part in daily check ups and made sure he didn’t rebel.

So, every 2 day, they took turns to visit T0M in the room accustomed to its needs.

And both’s reports were excellent! T0M learned more while being as obedient and compliant as ever. Phil couldn’t be more happy with those results.

However, as time went on…. Wilbur failed to mention another kind of teaching he had going on with the subject for the past months.

“And this is called ‘Sadness’.” He held an A3 size paper with a moody smiley drawn on it, the word being written below. “It’s that feeling when our sessions are over and I have to go and you say ‘oh noooo’ in that voice.”

T0M was sitting on his knees in front of him, paying the utmost attention to what Wilbur was showing and saying.

“I hate that one.” He pouted.

“I know,” Wilbur chuckled. “No one likes to feel sad. But it’s a part of life.”

A single hum. Wilbur’s smile turned more sympathetic.

“Do you remember the other ones?” He stood up from his place and put the sheet in one of the dark grey metallic drawers.

T0M nodded, excitedly. He took his hand and poked his fingers as he counted. “ there’s “Happiness”, it’s the good one. And “Disgust”, it’s when I have to eat the weird green stuff.”

“Brocoli”

“That. And then there’s excitement, it’s when I smile real big because you come early.”

Wilbur clapped “Wonderful!” T0M’s eyes were shining stars at every approval from Doctor Soot. Even though T0M’s enjoyment was very appreciated and contagious, but it could be a bit… much, to handle at times.

“Since you understand the basics, I think it’s time for us to start a whole new lesson.” He clapped.

T0M gasped and cheered from the top of his lungs “YEAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”, throwing his arms in the air and effectively making the room shake from the sheer volume of his voice. When he looked back at the scientist, his eyebrows were pinched and the brunette was covering his ears and curled up, almost in pain.

“...Doctor?” He brought his head close to the man who, after making eye contact, scrambled back until he hit the same drawer he put the papers in earlier. T0M looked at him confused, face still too big in Wilbur’s peripheral.

“I… Tom, I appreciate your enthusiasm when we do our lessons, but if you could prevent yourself from screaming, it would be nice.” He tried in the most gentle voice he could muster without it shaking.

“What’s screaming?” T0M asked, crouched so his face was almost on the ground at eye level with him. He brought a hand closer to the doctor who was still breathing heavily. When his head shot to look at the hand, his body on alert, he froze before saying.

“... Is it a moment when I can’t touch you?”

Wilbur’s eyes were locked on the now frozen hand for a good second before returning to T0M, nodding. “Uh, yeah.”

“... Okay.”

The hand retracted in the following seconds, and soon, he was back in his initial position.

The doctor thanked before regaining his composure. He looked back at T0M, and his expression held remorse. A guilt twisted Wilbur's guts at the view. Thing is, as T0M grew up, people quickly realised he was the equivalent of clingy. He would constantly grab people into hugs and had a hard time keeping his voice down which resulted in a large noise blocker investment. And so they had a rule. T0M couldn’t make any sort of physical contact with anyone without being given explicit permission first. Obviously, most workers considered T0M as a test subject and therefore, wouldn’t give him that pleasure.

Wilbur, though, was not in the same vein. Once he realised how empathic and emotional and human T0M was, he started teaching him things a human teen should need, and started giving him a sort of affection a human teen should have. Which included some sort of physical affection.

When T0M was sad, he would sit next to him or pat his back. It quickly evolved as Wilbur accepted being held by the boy and brought to eye level as long as he was careful when doing so, and ever later, they would hug and wilbur would try to brush his hair at times.

Still, that didn’t make him immune to any of T0M’s carelessness which’s consequences were amplified ten fold due to his scale.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked pitifully.

“I- no, it’s not your fault. It can just be a bit overwhelming is all.” Wilbur explained.

“... what does that mean?”

“It means… when something is ‘too much’. Like when you want to bring Techno very close, but he keeps reminding you about the rule.”

“Oh.” T0M let his head fall. “... I don’t like that.” Wilbur scratched his head. “I want to be so close and show that I’m very happy and it’s all inside and I can’t let it out.”

“Well, here, it’s a bit more of the opposite. When outside, there is a lot and you’re incapable of letting it in.”

“... I’m sorry Wilbur” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, I’m not angry.” reassured the brunette. “I just have sensitive ears.”

“...Everyone has sensitive ears.”

“Well, when you’re a small guy like me, you’re sensitive on pretty much all fronts.”

“... It’s not fair.”

“What’s that?” Wilbur perked.

“When I stop getting big and strong, I want to hug you with all of my will. Like you do with me. It feels nice. I want you to feel nice just like that. I want you to be overwhelmed with happiness. I want to hug you so, so bad but I can't and it's shit. I don't want to be strong, I hurt you if I’m strong. I want to hug you."

Tommy vented, more to himself, and when he looked at Wilbur, his eyes shined, not with joy.

"Oh Tommy…."

It ached. It ached Wilbur to his core that something as simple as a hug was something he craved and still couldn't get. Because he knew. He knew all of the things T0M was missing out on. All the life he could have lived if he was granted freedom. How much he could live and appreciate. It kept him awake at night.

But he was here. Trapped. In a room barely tall enough to contain him, treated like a circus monster. And the worst thing was, T0M wasn't aware of it. Of all the life he wasn't living. How his life was no life and how he thinks this absence of everything is what life should be.

Plato would probably laugh in his grave.

"I promise you. One day, you will be able to do that. I promise you that I'll find a way for you to hug me just like you are a small man too. I promise you that I'll make you discover all of those joys of life, Tom. I Promise you. I will help you. And I'm sorry for not being able to provide it sooner. And I'll apologize for all the years it took for me to get it."

They stared at each other, and Tommy nodded, throat tight and eyes wet.

"And a promise makes sure that it's gonna happen." T0M croaked.

"Exactly, tom." Wilbur smiled. "You are going to live many more things."

The bell rang, and both faces fell a bit.

"I'll see you in 4 days, Tom. We're gonna have a little recap over the emotions you learned and then I'll teach you about relationships."

"Oohh, that sounds nice! What is it?"

As Wilbur packed his little bag, he looked at T0M and simply replied "it's all around you. But I'm not gonna spoil the next session. On that note, I wish you a nice week, Tom."

"Have a nice week, Wilbur! " T0M waved with a smile. "It's nice talking to you."

"It is my absolute pleasure, Tom."

And thus, they parted. As Wilbur walked down the immense corridor (just tall enough Tom could run through them.) He wore a satisfied smile. His small steps resonated, the only sound in the room, yet peaceful enough for his ears to listen to them as carefully as silence. Halfway through, the sound was doubled.

"Helloooo."

"Oh, hey techno! How are you?"

"Doing fine. You seem very happy."

"I am. I made some good progress with T-he subject. I feel like he's learning well. The next tests should have fabulous results."

"Ahh, wonderful. Let's make sure it doesn't learn too much though." He joked.

And at that, Wilbur chuckled, his hand on the man's shoulder. "Oh don't you worry about that, my friend. I can assure you that'll never happen"

"Amazing" techno replied, deadpan. Both nodded their conversation away and walked the rest of their ways.

As he got further away, the doctor's smile turned to an amused grin. His steps resonated, so much smaller than what could be, in a corridor in which the boy just next door should walk through.

"Don't you worry about a single thing."

MEL YES I ADORE THIS AU SO MUCH ITS SO GOOD!!!!!!!!

Poor Tommy but at least Wilbur is helping him :”]

#runaway experiment au #melissas writing #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #g!tommy #t!wilbur #YES YES TES #XJWJXJWNNX #SCREAMS AND YELLS AND CRIES #BUT IN A GOOD WAY #:D #I LOVEBTHSI AU

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person...

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day…

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be.

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

….they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #ow ow ow ow ow #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #crap I have to reread this...#in for pain #sorry levi #went a little hard on you there

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samstree · 3 years

Text

Hug a Witcher Day (3/4)

In which Jaskier goes missing in the spring. Can Geralt finally realize his feelings for the bard in the middle of a crisis?

(hurt/comfort, soft geraskier, 3k, rated T, cw: mentions of a canon-era plague, sick children, and a citywide lockdown.)

part 1, part 2, read on AO3

The third year since Jaskier invented Hug a Witcher Day, Geralt all but forgets about it completely.

He steps into the Two Weatherfish, where they agreed to meet, and realizes that the bard isn’t here. Or in the entire city of Ard Carraigh. No one has seen any trace of the famous bard who won’t quit singing praises for witchers.

Geralt pushes down the slight panic in his chest as he steps out of the last tavern in the city, and decides to just head for Oxenfurt.

It’s not like Jaskier has been the most reliable companion in the past, often distracted by dalliances or even anything shiny and new. One time he wandered off to watch a local celebration and Geralt found him hours later next to a lake, with thousands of lanterns floating above the water, illuminating the night sky like burning stars peppered on a dark canvas.

The soft, orange light spilled over Jaskier’s features, his eyes gleaming like the stars too.

Geralt snorts despite himself. There’s no doubt the bard is just delayed by someone who caught his eye and decided that a promise to a witcher isn’t all that important—the same witcher who he keeps claiming to be his best friend.

Geralt isn’t sure how to feel about that, or how to react when he finally sees Jaskier. Perhaps he will cease to talk about hunts for a while, leave the bard hanging, just so he can get a taste of the same frustration.

The pettiness remains in Geralt’s mind up until he steps into the academy and rampant fear licks up his chest.

Essi is the one who meets him at the gates, worry deep between her brows and rambling about how Jaskier never made it to the yule ball like he should. In her hands are two letters, clearly Jaskier’s handiwork judging from the neat curves and flourish, talking about his excitement to see his ‘Little Eye’ perform again, and how unfortunately his travel would be delayed due to an unexpected ailment.

Don’t you fret, poppet, for I am sure to beat this sickness within days. The promise of listening to your new ballad is already doing wonders for my health! It is a shame that my stay in Vizima is soured thus. The city, so beautifully rich in culture…

“Vizima,” Essi says frantically. “A plague broke out in the city last winter. Smallpox.”

A buzz begins to ring by Geralt’s ear, muffling out Essi’s voice and leaving only the thundering of his own heartbeat.

“They told me King Foltest sealed the gate to stop the spread, and…and no one has heard from anyone inside since then. Geralt, please, you are a witcher. Aren’t you immune to human sickness? That’s what Jaskier told me, isn’t that right?”

“I…yes.” The lump in Geralt’s throat stops any other words from getting out. His blood runs cold in the warm breeze of Oxenfurt’s spring.

“Please, Geralt, you must find him. I need to know. The university won’t allow me to go, but I…I must know. No matter what happened to him.”

The implication hangs in the air.

Tears well up in blues eyes too similar to Jaskier’s. Essi would be my sister in another life, Jaskier once commented adoringly and it’s only standing right here that Geralt can truly see the identical fierceness in her eyes.

As if Geralt needs her to ask. As if he isn’t willing to charge into the land of the dead if it means Jaskier gets out of it unscathed.

“Of course, Essi,” he promises solemnly. Her clutch on his forearm is so tight that any other man would be bruised by the force. “I promise.”

“Keep him safe, if it’s not too late.”

In his near-century long life, Geralt has rarely felt cold, unrelenting fear as he does when Essi breaks into sobs.

The sickness in Vizima casts a gloomy cloud over the sky, choking Geralt’s breaths. The streets are eerily empty. Only a few people will pass through in a frenzy every now and then.

Geralt’s legs take him right through the main streets, to the far corner of the city, where countless makeshift tents are set up and stretching towards the edge of the woods. If anyone has indeed fallen to the disease, that’s the most likely place they will be sent to. If anyone passes, that’s also where they keep the records so friends and families can look for their names.

Bile rises in his throat at the idea of looking through stacks of books for Jaskier’s name.

Geralt walks between hundreds of beds of one tent after another. Some healers throw him an odd look but carry on with their work, the flash of their white scrubs weaving through the busy establishment.

Against all odds, a pang of relief hits Geralt when he notices how the patients are well-treated by healers who seem to know what they are doing. The fever is brought down with a soaked cloth and a minty salve is applied for the irritation on the skin.

He searches and searches, until the sun is almost down, when—

A soft tune is carried over by the gentle breeze of spring.

And there Jaskier is, kneeling next to a little boy on a bed and humming a lullaby that Geralt only remembers vaguely. The bard is wearing the same white scrub like every carer at this camp, his brown hair slightly ruffled, and dark circles are hanging under his eyes. Geralt can see how tired he is by the hunch of his shoulders and the barely-there quiver in his singing, by his unkept stubble and the smile that’s dangerously close to falling.

And yet, he makes the most beautiful sight in the world.

Geralt stands there, drinking in the presence of his bard. The languid heartbeat of a witcher picks up, fluttering and almost bursting out of his chest.

Jaskier runs his fingers through the boy’s hair when the lullaby comes to an end. He tucks in the blanket and slowly pulls himself up, his knees creaking from the strain.

Blue eyes meet Geralt and Jaskier’s shock morphs into unbridled, blazing joy. Within the blink of an eye, the bard is standing right in front of Geralt.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathes oh so carefully like he’s scared of waking from a dream. “What are you doing here? Wait, you don’t have any protec—oh right! Witcher biology. Can’t catch anything from us.” The bard lets out a sigh and his shoulders drop in relief. “How did you get through the gate? Punched another guard, didn’t—”

“You are okay,” Geralt says, dumbly.

“I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaskier frowns. “Geralt, why did you come to Vizima in the middle of a plague? Not that I’m complaining about seeing you, but how exactly did you find me?”

Geralt doesn’t want to look away from Jaskier’s face—ideally for a long time to come, but he needs to rummage through his pack for the crumpled letters.

“You sent these to Essi last winter.”

Jaskier takes the letters, flattens the frayed edges before reading his own words.

“Yes, I did tell her…” Cold horror takes Jaskier aback. “Shit. She must think—Oh, Geralt, that wasn’t it! I only caught a stomach bug. It was never the pox! But then…they locked the city gate so fast and everything was in chaos for weeks. I couldn’t get more letters out. Oh, I wish I could take it back! I didn’t think—”

“You damn well didn’t.”

The words come out a lot harsher than Geralt intended, and Jaskier flinches back. Geralt pinches at the bridge of his nose, feeling contrite at his untimely outburst.

“No, Jask—I’m not…” he heaves out a sigh. “She didn’t even know if you were alive for months.”

Neither did I.

“I’m so sorry.” Jaskier is close to tears. “She must be worried sick.”

“She is.”

I was.

“And you too, Geralt. Please forgive me.” Jaskier’s chin wobbles, his arms hovering between the two of them as if he wants to put them around Geralt. “I want to ask you not to be cross with me again, but that seems to be all I do.”

“Jaskier…”

Geralt calls out when he finds not even an ounce of anger in his heart, not when he just spent weeks fearing the worst, not when Jaskier is standing right in front of him, safe and hale, his eyes flowing with guilt.

Jaskier might just be the death of him.

“Fuck. Just don’t pull this again.” Geralt softens his tone, knowing how unfair the request is when such things are out of Jaskier’s control, but the bard replies in earnest.

“I won’t. I swear.”

Exhaustion washes over the bard once again, making him look a lot older than he is. From the looks of it, Jaskier has been working in these camps for months and the last thing he needs is an unsupportive friend.

And Geralt doesn’t intend to become one.

“And you are dressed like this because?” Geralt nudges Jaskier in the shoulder to ease the apprehension on his face.

“Funny you should ask.” The bard presses his lips into a thin line before continuing. “I may have lied—nay, implied—that the seven degrees I acquired at Oxenfurt included…medicine. Hold on! Before you judge, I do know how to care for pox patients. I caught it as a child too and that’s why I’ve been fine this whole time.”

“Hmm. But you don’t have the—”

“The scars. No thanks to my grandmother’s secret healing salve that she insisted on keeping secret. It worked like a charm back then, almost like magic. We’ve been trying to replicate from whatever I remember. The mint is helping a little but something is still missing. Oh, well.” The bard rubs his fingers at the hem of his scrub. “Perhaps that explains all these crazy rumors about her heritage, with all her herbs and teas that always miraculously cured everybody. Honestly, I don’t even blame them.”

Geralt muses the possibility of Jaskier’s grandmother not being completely human and makes a silent decision to unpack it later.

“Then I guess your personal experience should come in handy if we are going to stay here for a while.”

“We? You are staying?”

“The exits are still closed.” Geralt tilts his head in nonchalance. “Might as well lend them a hand.”

And never take his eyes off of Jaskier again.

“That’s…wonderful, in a terrible, terrible way. Being trapped in the same place during a plague. Gods, that sounds like something out of the cheesiest romance novel.” Jaskier gasps as soon as the words are out. The smile on his face blossoms into a heated blush.

“Just promise me one thing, Jask.”

“What?” The cornflower blue eyes uncharacteristically avoid Geralt in a vain attempt to hide how flustered he is.

Don’t scare me like this again.

Don’t get taken from me.

Don’t leave me.

“Read less romance novels. Once this blows over,” Geralt answers, finally.

The fluttering in his chest returns, although this time for a completely different reason. The reason not being how adorable Jaskier looks embarrassed and rosy-cheeked.

No. Definitely not.

“Little Simon asleep?”

Geralt asks as he stokes the fire, watching Jaskier struggle out of the sweat-soaked scrub and throw it into the laundry pile. The bard sits down next to him on the log with a groan and leans into his arm.

“As flattered as I am that he can’t fall asleep without my songs, it does get a bit taxing to sing every night while kneeling on the floor.”

“The kid is sick. Can’t blame him for having bad taste in music.”

The jab would have landed better if he isn’t wrapping his arm around Jaskier so that he can rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder. The days are too long even with most of the patients released home, and it’s been taking a toll on Jaskier.

“Cruel to me when I’m down, huh?”

Under Geralt’s palm, it’s unmistakable that Jaskier’s arm isn’t as thick as it once was, and he really doesn’t want to think about how the sharp of Jaskier’s jaw is becoming more prominent by the day.

Geralt rubs gently up and down Jaskier’s bicep to draw a contented purr out of him.

“Hmm. Now you’re forgiven.” Jaskier nuzzles into the crook of Geralt’s neck so his muscles loosen under the ministration. “It’s so unfair that a shift never wears you out like the rest of us, my dear. So unfair that you don’t need as much food too. I’d kill for some witcher superpowers these days.”

“Trust me, you won’t like what they cost.”

The late summer heat, mixed with the smell of sweat in Jaskier’s hair, should make it extremely uncomfortable to be sitting so close, but Geralt only finds it calming to have Jaskier sagging against him.

Jaskier’s thinning shoulder is too worrisome. Geralt will have to leave him most of the dinner rations again. Excuses are so easy to find, once Geralt realized that Jaskier never questions what he’s told about witcher biology, trusting every word from Geralt’s mouth. It’s just a little lie, a little exaggeration.

The bard is rubbing off on him.

“Simon is among the last ones here,” Jaskier says tiredly into Geralt’s neck. “It will soon be over. They are saying everyone can go in a month or so.”

“We can go even now.”

The prospect of traveling again stirs up something hopeful under Geralt’s skin, prickling with excitement, but he knows more patience is required for now.

“Nah, I should at least see little Simon home. You were right that the boy has suffered enough. The fever is terrible. Even I still have nightmares about it after so many years. It’s excruciating, almost like death is trying to mock you. One moment a fire burns through your whole body, the next it swallows you whole into this…nothingness, cold and alone.”

Geralt tightens his hold and breathes in the melancholic scent emanating from Jaskier’s skin.

“It was my grandmother, again. She sang the same lullaby to me every night, kept me sane. It’s helping little Simon too.”

“It’s in elvish,” Geralt murmurs absently when Jaskier is close to drifting off. The bard’s leveled breathing fans over the collar of Geralt’s neck.

“…hmm?”

“Nothing. Maybe for later.”

Geralt’s fingers reach the side of Jaskier’s head and thread between the soft brown locks, keeping his drooping head in place for the nap. When he looks down to where Jaskier casually drapes over half of his body, the two of them almost melding into one, Geralt is suddenly hit with how much their relationship has changed over the past few years, and at the same time, how it feels completely natural like puzzles fitting into place.

This newfound intimacy should scare Geralt, but strangely, it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because the witcher has learned long ago to treasure his bard as a companion and friend, to protect him and care for him, even without ever admitting it out loud.

Maybe he should.

And what would he even say? Geralt is equally elated and stumped at the thought of the two of them growing into something more. If the fluttering in his chest is a result of loving Jaskier, the bard deserves to know, and he deserves the best words.

Geralt scoffs softly when he realizes that he’d kill for something completely opposite. Not the strength of a witcher, but the silver tongue of a bard, the ability to weave the most beautiful prose to describe what Jaskier means to him.

The summer cicadas are singing with renewed vigor, the sizzling sound disrupting his train of thought. For now, Geralt will need to content himself in simply being with Jaskier.

And, perhaps, in pressing a tiny kiss into his soft brown hair as well. Under the night sky, only the stars will know.

I didn't know plague doctor Jaskier could be a thing until I started writing this chapter, and the ending just had to make way for it. Sorry that the chapter count has gone up. I promise hugs are cuddles are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @birdsflyhome @dapandapod @artisanbaguette

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #soft geralt #hug a witcher day #soft jaskier #cw: plague #guess this should be a warning #protective geralt #essi daven #jaskier sings to children

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

No Body, No Crime ✁ 1

AU - Y/N L/N is a second-year law student attending Stanford and studying under Professor Aaron Hotchner. Along with his associate attorneys, Ms. L/N is alongside some of the most ambitious and cutthroat law students in the nation. However, her life gets flipped upside down as she’s thrust into a life of murder, sex and lies.

Main Pairing: Spencer Reid x [F]Reader

Content — Mature themes, blood, major and minor character death, violence, angst, triggering themes, bad coping mechanisms, drugs, mental health shit, alcoholism, lots of smut, language, fluff, mystery, thriller, mentions of cheating, canonical typical themes , dark academia vibes, explicit content - read with caution

DISCLAIMER: This story will contain MATURE content. It will include themes such as smut, violence, etc (see content). If you are not 18+ and unable to handle such themes, respectfully, please exit this story. It is not my intention to make readers uncomfortable or trigger them in any way. If you continue to read the story despite the multiple warnings, I am not responsible for any triggers that may pop up.

Also, based off this blurb!

I am also not a law student, so there is bound to be misinformation!

【 ao3 | Masterlist | Playlist 】

CHAPTER 1: Death and All His Friends

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Blood, she thinks, you never really know how much blood is in a person. Logically, she did know; she had to learn how many pints there were in the human body from med school and the mass amount of profile study cases. From looking at crime scenes, reading textbooks, medical journals and fake charts; blood has never bothered her, if anything, she got used to seeing and being around it.

There are roughly about ten gallons of blood in the average adult, but typically, losing more than forty percent will result in death. That was about two thousand millilitres.

But, you never realize just how much blood a person can hold, not until a human is slaughtered like an animal, eyes glossed over, body turned cold and stiff — splayed out in front of you. It seems like a lot more than what was described.

There’s a saying, bleed like a pig. Well, she understood what it meant now.

God, she sounded like Spencer.

“What are we going to do with the body?”

“Let’s leave it. We need to go back and clean!”

“No, let’s bury it.”

A chuckle of utter disbelief forces its way out of Derek’s mouth in a rush. It’s both strained and ragged and sounds as if he’s about to burst into tears, but the shock and anger seem to immerse deep in his bones and control his actions. His head shakes subconsciously, “You’re — you’re fucking joking, right? It’s the middle of winter! Tell me how the fuck we’re going to bury a body when the soil’s hard?!”

There’s a collective panicked sigh that goes through the group as the implications finally start to settle in.

“Be any louder!” Emily half-shouts. She paces back and forth, the freshly fallen snow crunches under her shoes as they leave footprints in their wake. Her hands make extravagant hand movements, almost in an attempt to speak with her actions. But, the only thing that has Y/N somewhat grounded is the rusty blood on Emily’s hands. The stark contrast of her pale skin against the deep red does nothing but make bile rush to her throat.

“The body is what gets us caught!” JJ cuts in through her half-sobs.

“The one time it snows in California! Since when do we get snow?!”

Sticky, cold, dry, flakey blood. It brings too much attention to the blood painting her body in a cruel, evil painting. Y/N lifts a shaky hand as she turns to observe the way the pads of her fingers were stained red. Underneath her fingernails, she can see the blood caking, dried underneath and can feel the heavy liquid travelling up her sleeve.

Her fingers pressed together before a hand shoots up, trying to pick off the blood in a hasty attempt.

Everything was uncomfortable — too uncomfortable and it was sticky and disgusting and there was too much happening. Her brain was overstimulated and all she wanted to do was yell or cry or strip herself clean from these heavy clothes, hiding the blood drenching her underneath. A hand went to claw at the fabric — she needed to breathe — she needed air and it was too tight and —

The falling snow had finally come to a stop, the ground becomes muddy, wet snow being tracked all around but aside from that, it’s dry out. Panic is slow seep within her body, only just registering the dull, prickling ache that travels up the side of her right arm. Not to mention the pounding in her skull felt like someone had taken a power tool, drilling a burl hole into the side of her head in hopes of creating a make-shift lobotomy. On instinct, her hand reaches up to her temples, massaging small circles in hopes to find relief.

But then she catches sight of her hand again from her peripheral vision, or rather, it’s as if she can feel it laminating her skin. Blood.

Now there must be smeared streaks of dried blood coating her face. Fuck, now she really feels like throwing up.

A soft wail can be heard in the background somewhere, but it sounds distant and underwater. She thinks it’s JJ. Her high-pitched cries are loud and she thinks that’s Derek’s voice yelling at her and god… it only amplifies her headache.

She needed an aspirin, Advil — maybe Spencer had some.

Her mind wanders back to the group. Emily… Emily — she’s — Y/N doesn’t know where Emily went actually. She could have sworn she was by the trees…

She continued to pick at her skin absentmindedly, and now she couldn’t tell where her blood started and the one that was sprayed onto her ended.

And Spencer, he’s pacing and hadn’t muttered a word since they left Hotch’s house. His body language is closed off, his hand rubbing up and down his arms in either a self-soothing method or because it’s cold out. She assumes it’s the former.

The one time — the one fucking time the asshole is supposed to be smart, his IQ magically drops below zero.

Everyone is arguing and they all hear the faint cheers, laughter, early fireworks and music blaring in the background. The sound of the bonfire crackles in the distance and all she can do is drown it out. She was supposed to be having fun. She should’ve been visiting home, or maybe studying of fucking Spencer, not wearing shoes twice her size, gloves to cover up her fingerprints; not trying to come up with an alibi and there definitely shouldn’t be someone else’s blood clinging to her. She should’ve been anywhere but here. It’s too much.

Lightheaded, Y/N stumbles backwards, supporting herself against a nearby tree. The shadows and black coat camouflaged her, engulfing her into the night and she feels an odd sense of comfort by it. But, it does anything but calms her down as her chest begins to rise rapidly up and down.

Oh god, oh shit, shit, shit! They’re all fucked — she’s fucked. Her DNA is all over the crime scene. The crime scene is on her and probably under the body’s fingernails. There was no way she was getting out of this. It wasn’t even her fault and look where she is.

She should’ve listened to her Grandparents; don’t go to law school, it’ll turn her into something she’s not. Y/N smiles twistedly thinking about it, they were right.

You can’t get away with murder.

Shit, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“We need to stop wasting time,” Emily announces, appearing remarkably calm.

“W-we should call the police,” Y/N mumbles in a shaky voice. Her voice hitches and she sucks in a cry.

All of their heads, besides Spencer’s, whip over to her; she’s on the verge of breaking — possibly even running off and going straight to the local police station. Her phone suddenly feels heavy in her pocket.

“What we’re not going to do is that! Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail?!” Derek exclaims. His mouth goes to open again before he suddenly halts, looking over to Spencer and shouting. “Ayo, kid-fucking-genius, could you, I don’t know — think?!”

The yelling makes her shrink in on herself. Yes, call the police, turn yourself in. Obstruction of justice; tampering with evidence, manslaughter, attempting to hide a body, invasion of privacy, possible perjury — all this leads to incarceration and more time. Maybe she could even get a deal, say that she was in shock, dealing with PTSD. Immunity! Maybe she could strike herself and Spencer an immunity deal.

God — they killed her. They murdered someone.

Immense guilt bubbles its way through her before she turns to gag on air. Her hands clutches her stomach as she heaves, distantly hearing the arguing background.

“— about Hotch?”

“What about him? He’s going to put us in jail himself. If we’re lucky, he’ll kill us so we can skip a life sentence!”

JJ cries louder. God was she fucking annoying.

“He doesn’t give two shits about her —” “Could everyone just stop for a fucking moment,” a new, irritated voice cuts in. It sounds like it’s been pushed through gritted teeth, muddled by straining and holding back tears. It’s Spencer.

His eyes shut, the palm of his hands pressed harshly on them before rubbing them hard. But, they travel up to his forehead and through his hair, pulling down so hard that Y/N would be surprised if he didn’t already lose a chunk. But within a swift motion, he crouches to the ground in a fetal-like position; the balls of his feet roll back and forth, making his entire body bounce in small rhythms.

He’s having a panic attack, judging by the way his breathing cuts in and out in large volumes, hyperventilation bound to happen soon.

The entire group stays silent before Derek has enough. He walks up to Spencer, a hand clutching his jacket which forces him to stare straight into his eyes.

“Don’t treat him like that,” Emily tries to cut in.

“If you don’t give us something good within the next few seconds, you better pray to god —”

With newfound determination, Spencer meets his eyes with a fiery look, his chest puffed out a bit and his voice is even.

“We burn it.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✈︎༺━━━━━━━━━

Friday, August 29th, 2003

Palo Alto, California. Apartment 7

Four months before

A clanging sound reverberates throughout the empty hallway for the third time within the last five minutes. Her keys.

An annoyed sigh involuntarily leaves her lips as she struggles to lift the stacks of heavy boxes in her arms. Her attention was drawn to a bulletin board near her door. A missing person’s photo was plastered, marked with an eye-catching red border. Printed underneath a photo of a man in bold letters: George Floyet, twenty-five-year-old student at Palo Alto University. Last seen on July 30th, 2003.

When Y/N L/N was fourteen, she vaguely remembered people asking her where she saw herself in the next ten years. Now standing outside her newly rented apartment, sweating as she juggled a stack of large boxes without tripping — well, she certainly hadn’t thought this.

Life had many ups and downs, as cliche as that sounded. She hadn’t expected to graduate university with an English and Human Physiology degree, nor had she expected into medical school before ultimately deciding to take the LSATs, pursuing a career in law.

Truly, had Y/N used one word to describe her career ambitions at the moment, she’d say she’s pretty fucked and clueless. Although, she’d liked to consider herself fairly motivated, resilient, perhaps even strong-willed and quick on her feet. Scratch that, if anything, the one thing she did pride herself on was her ability to compose herself quickly and the want to overcome fear. It was a motto, of sorts, which she’d been sticking close to: going with the flow.

If anything, those were the attributes that built the foundation of what anyone needed to become a successful lawyer. Yes, that made her situation sound a lot less… pathetic.

But certainly, standing in the middle of a corridor in a shitty apartment with walls too thin to save money on rent, she’d consider herself pretty pathetic.

Oh, the joys of moving.

Just as she felt one of the boxes tipping, the sound of shuffling fills the hallway. A pair of large pale hands come out of nowhere, swiftly catching the stacked cardboard boxes with ease.

When she looked up, she hadn’t quite caught a look at the man in front of her as he bent down to pick up her keys. But when he finally stood straight, eyes locking, she took note of his features

He was tall, much taller than herself and dressed in black slacks and a light lilac dress shirt which was pushed up by the sleeves. He was young, probably the same age as her or younger. He was wide-eyed, almost doe-like and wore a nervous yet seemingly gentle expression.

“Hello,” said the stranger. His hair was rumpled as if he’d just woken up as darken eyebags accentuated his face. His face was sharp, features dark — but in a soft sharp way that made the shape of his nose and lips the most noticeable. Pink lips, a tired look, pretty face.

This stranger was friendly and very attractive. That was her first impression of him.

“Hi,” she replied, a bit breathless from the weight of juggling the boxes. But still, she smiled and her head tilted to the side slightly.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were my new neighbour, I hope you don’t mind me helping, you looked like you needed it,” he says nervously, his extra free hand goes back to rub the back of his neck.

Y/N’s eyes shoot over to the door at the end of the hallway, conveniently next to hers: apartment 8. He must've heard the banging against the doors and walls, and suddenly, she felt guilty. She must’ve woken him up.

“Haha, yeah! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

“No! It’s fine.”

Now, both stand there a bit awkwardly before she coughs, which has him nodding and fumbling with her keys in his hand, “Er — I have a couple of minutes before I leave for work, do you still need help?”

“Right, yes!”

Y/N hands him over her other box, her hand taking the keys back as she clicks open her door. The smell of cleaning products filled her nose along with the smell of old books. It’s spacious, considering what she’s paying for it. It’s a flat, aside from the bathroom and kitchen and there’s a small balcony that’s connected with another set of railings outside. The view of green trees and flowers could be seen and suddenly, Y/N considers herself lucky when she’s realized the place she’s snagged.

The man trails behind her, setting the boxes down on the kitchen counter before dusting off any non-existent lint off his pants. His eyes quickly scan the area, in an analytical fashion.

He clears his throat, “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

She nods too, walking back up to her door to lead him out. “Likewise, neighbour.”

This time, a real smile crosses his face before looking down sheepishly, a small tint covering his cheeks. “Please, I’m Doctor Reid — but please, call me Spencer.”

“Doctor?” Her face lights up with curiosity. This man looks as young as her, younger — and she’s only twenty-four.

“Oh, I don’t practice medicine,” he quickly adds. His hands go to fiddle with each other, “I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187,” he explains. However, it’s not in a blatantly rude manner — like he’s trying to flaunt it. If anything, he looks embarrassed. His head drops to look down at his shoes, trying to make himself appear smaller, seeming uncomfortable. But like she said, Y/N likes to believe she’s quick on her feet.

“Well then, Doctor,” she teases, which has him going a deeper shade of pink, “I’m Y/N L/N, I have no PhDs, I used to practice medicine and I have an IQ of — probably a hundred or less.

At this, Spencer visibly relaxes as a deep chuckle makes its way out. He nods again, making his way out the door and does a small wave before disappearing back into his apartment. Y/N leaves her door open, but her back is faced towards it as she hears his door click back open and she feels the vibrations of his door closing before the tapping of his feet becomes more and more distant.

There are a dozen other boxes she ends up hauling in, but she’s noticed that Spencer must have somehow carried a few of the boxes to the top of the stairs rather than just leaving them in the lobby.

As she wipes down the surfaces, music blasting through her earbuds before unboxing her new bed frame, a smirk crosses her face; cheap rent, enrolled at one of the top law schools in the country, has enough money saved for the next few months and a cute, tall, polite and a fucking doctor that just so happens to be her neighbour — damn, Y/N doesn’t mind this at all.

【 Next Chapter 】

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equizona · 3 years

Note

Can you do Asmo with hanahaki, as in Asmo gets the hanahaki? Or Beel if you dont wanna write that with Asmo. Ok thank you.

Sure thing! Sorry about the long wait! ^v^

Wilting Flowers

[OBEY ME!][ONE-SHOT][HANAHAKI DISEASE][ASMODEUS X READER]

Asmodeus had never thought he would fall in love with someone.

All his life he had always thought he would never truly love somebody, at least not romantically. And he had throughout his life never found anyone he considered to be up to his standards. He didn't mean anything bad by it, he just firmly believed he was a lot better than everyone else.

Except you.

Y/N L/N.

He had, by some miracle, fallen head over heals for you.

But that was not the problem. He wasn't the only one who had fallen for you, no, so had his brothers.

Some of them may pretend they don't, but he could see right through them. The way Lucifer relaxed, Mammon looked happier, Laviathan was slightly nicer, etcetera.

And that was the problem. Of course, he was the best but people didn't ways go for the best. They went for what they wanted. And even if he was the best, mabye Y/N would decide they wanted somebody else.

And so he started down the path of not believing you would ever love him.

You could chose between the seven of them. Why not the mature Lucifer? Funny and dumb Mammon? Surprisingly sweet Leviathan? Calm and collected Satan? Friendly Beelzebub? Cuddly Belphegor?

Why.. Him?

You had so many options. So many variables, and you could have any of them. He had a one in a seven chance.

It wasn't that big of a chance.

And then one day, he felt it.

He was in his room, doing his usual bedtime ruitine. Of course, his thought started getting darker, as his mind directed itself towards you.

And then he started coughing.

He always had a strong immune system, but he could still get sick. But he ruled out that thought when his hands got filled with Pink flower petals and bright red blood.

That was certainly not normal.

He stared in confusion. What the hell? That was absolutely not normal?

Maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe he was allergic to something, or Solomon had caused an accident with a spell?

No, he didn't have any allergies, and Solomon wouldn't do that, no matter how dumb or mean he could be at times.

That meant he had to get answers.

He didn't want to bring it up with any of his brothers just yet, and he certainly didn't want to bring it up with you.

So he went to Barbatros, who didn't know anything about it, but promised to tell him if he discovered anything.

Then he went to Simeon, who said it sounded familiar, but couldn't place it.

Then there was only Solomon left.

And to his surprise, he hit it dead on.

"Hanahaki Disease."

"Pardon me?"

Asmodeus guessed he had some human disease then, as only the human knew of what had been bothering him.

"Yes, it's a disease in the human world. When you fall for someone, a flower will grow in your lungs and start killing you. There is two ways to get rid of it. One, confess, and if the person returns your feelings, the flower will go away."

Asmodeus was nervous to ask his question.

"And the second method is?"

"A surgery." His explanation was simple, undetailed, unlike his other explanation.

"Oh, that doesn't sound so bad. How would I do that?"

"Actually.. there is more to it than that. The surgery will remove all emotion you hold for the person you like. Love, hate, grief, everything. I suggest you confess first, and if they decline your emotions then you do the surgery."

Solomon seemed sad. Asmodeus loved you, and he didn't want to lose that emotion. After all, it held a strong part of who he was now.

"Alright, thank you Solomon." The human gave a nod, before going back to writing whatever he was writing.

And Asmodeus left. More lost than ever.

You would never like him back, so what was the point?

-------

Asmodeus was only feeling worse as days and days went on.

He had stopped going to school, telling Luicer he was sick and needed time to recover.

And all of them had been worried sick.

He was barely ever sick. To concerned about his health to let a lot of sicknesses hit him, let alone stay long enough to become dangerous.

But he didn't have the energy anymore. His energy was sapping, he was coughing up more and more blood.

And now there was flowers.

And he was terrified.

Sure, he loved you, but he also loved his brothers, even if it didn't seem like it.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Mabye I can help?"

Asmodeus sat up in a hurry, his light red eyes snapping to meet Satan's green ones.

"Oh dear, what are you doing-"

He was cut off by a series of coughs. He covered his mouth with his hands, feeling blood and petals hit his palms.

Satan seemed terrified as he hurried over to his younger brother.

"God, Asmo, are you alright? Please, tell me what is going on. All of us are worried about you, even Lucifer."

Asmodeus wasn't surprised about the Lucifer part, but he also knew that Lucifer cared about the six of them more than anything, even if he didn't always show it.

"It's nothing, I'm alright. Like I said, just sick."

He flinched at the glare Satan sent him. "There is blood and flowers in your hands Asmo. I do not think that is normal, and I have never seen a sickness like it here in Devildom."

Asmodeus stayed quiet for a short while, before he started crying.

Satan hugged him, humming softly as he tried to comfort his younger brother.

Asmodeus simply let the tears he had been holding in let lose.

Because why did this happen to him? What did he ever do? Lose all his feelings for you, or die?

He knew how his siblings had reacted to Lilith, and he never wanted them to suffer through something along those lines.

"Asmodeus, please, I need you too talk to me."

Asmodeus wanted to cry even harder at his brother's voice. He should never have hidden the truth. They were his brother's, and they deserved the truth.

Especially if he was going to die.

"I.. it's hard to explain, I don't fully understand it myself."

His brother sat himself down on the edge of the bed, making himself ready to listen.

And Asmodeus had never been happier.

"So, a month back I started coughing. I didn't think of it before I saw blood on my hands, and flower petals. So I went to Barbatros, thinking he had the answers, but he didn't. After that I went to Simeon. He thought he had heard of it, but couldn't place a finger on it. After that I went to Solomon."

Asmodeus hesitated. This was harder than he thought it would be.

But Satan was calm, placing his arms around Asmodeus, trying to make him feel safe.

And it worked.

So he took a breath.

"And he knew what was wrong with me. He called it the Hanahaki disease. It apparently, made a flower grow in my body whenever I fell deep enough in love. He told me I would die, and I had two options. Either I could confess my feelings and pray that they feel the same."

Satan frowned.

"Or?"

Asmodeus sighed. He didn't like this option, not one bit.

"Or I could get a surgery. The surgery will remove all my emotions for the person I like. Hatred, Love. Grief."

Satan looked sympathetically at him.

"Who do you like?"

Asmodeus did not want to answer that. After all, Satan liked them too.

"Wait, let me guess, it's Y/N."

Asmodeus looked at him.

"How did you- wait, more importantly, aren't you bothered? You like them too, right?"

Satan nodded. "Of course I do. All seven of us like them. But I've seen the way they look at you, and most of us have accepted the fact it will probably be you and Y/N that get together, and not someone else. At least it's not Lucifer they like." Asmodeus heard him add under his breath.

Asmodeus was to but thinking to care about that though. He was so sure you would chose someone like Satan, or Mammon, or anyone else!

And yet, Satan was in his room, saying how all of his six brothers had seen that Y/N liked him, and they had accepted that.

Most of them, anyways. He had a hunch the one who was sad about it was Mammon and Leviathan.

Jealousy and Greed, it would probably hurt the most for those two. Lucifer second, with his pride and all.

But..

You liked him?

No?

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. And when did you doubt your own charm? That's not like you at all."

Satan was right.

When had Asmodeus ever doubted hs beauty? Of course you would chose him!

Who wouldn't?

He was the best option after all.

"You are completely right, I'm very sorry about lying to all of you. I'm going to go tell Y/N my feelings, would you mind informing the others about what has been going on?"

Satan sighed, but gave a nod anyways.

"Of course Asmo."

And with that, the forth and fifth born brothers were off.

And there Asmodeus found you, sitting in the common room.

Looking like a wreck.

"Oh Darling, what happened to you? You look absolutely hideous." He didn't think to debate the words before they left his mouth.

But you didn't care, rather you seemed overjoyed at seeing him.

If you springing up and hugging him was any indication. Mabye Satan was right. Maybe you actually liked him.

"Asmo! I was so worried about you! God, I thought you were going to die or something." If only you knew.

"Darling, you know I take perfect care of myself, I would never let some disease kill me. Besides, who would be here to make sure you stay the second most beautiful person if I left?"

His heart started pounding harder as you gave him the brightest smile ever.

"I'm just glad you are alright Asmo."

He hesitated for a second, before nodding to himself a bit. He could do this.

"Actually, Y/N, I had something I wanted to talk to you about."

You looked at him curiously, always listening to him, not a bit of attention on anything but him.

"I have been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I didn't want to overwhelm you. But, after being sick, I realized that I should tell you."

You nodded, making a motion for him to go on.

"Y/N, I love you. You are the only person I have met in my lifetime that is anywhere near my beauty. You are pure perfection, just like me, and that goes for your personality as well. You are amazing, and I would like for us to be a couple."

Neither of you two said anything, and Asmodeus felt the fear creep in.

And the inconvenience of his coughing what about to kick in when you hugging him.

"God, how long have I waited to hear those words? I love you too, Asmodeus. You're really awesome, you know? I'm super happy you managed to gather the courage to tell me, 'cause I didn't."

Asmodeus let out a sob. "Oh god, I was so scared you were going to reject me and go ask Lucifer out on a date or something."

He hugged you back, holding you tight in his embrace.

"Nah, never. Sure, I adore your brothers more than anything, but that is in a plantonic way. I'm so so happy about this right now though."

The two stayed in that position for a few moments. Neither wanting to leave the safe embrace of the other.

And Asmodeus could feel the flower wilting away, making room for your love.

Because he didn't need a flower when he had you.

He didn't need anything as long as he had you.

He hugged you tighter, never wanting to let go of you.

You did the same, not mentioning the tears.

"Movie night?" He heard your melodic voice speak.

"Of course darling."

And with that, the two of you were cuddled up on the couch.

Soon after, his brothers joined the two of you. And he didn't mind, because now he knew you only had eyes for him.

And he also cared for his brothers.

Surrounded by all his favorite people.

He slowly started drifting off, into a nightmare less sleep.

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lihikainanea · 3 years

Note

God Lei I had such a day😭🥺😰do you have any thoughts on how Bill would comfort Tiger if she had a situation at work that was like 99.99999% her fault(or at least she feels that way)that there’s not really any way to fix, it’s just one of those things that has to be and has to pass when it occurs?

Ohhhh man kid, I been there. I been there so many times.

Look, the thing with Bill--at least in my world--is that Bill has a real thick skin. You don't survive in Hollywood unless you're at least partially immune to criticisms of any kind, and while he's still human--there's a big part of him that doesn't really care what other people think.

What's that old adage about lions and the opinions of sheep? Yeah, that. If the people don't matter to him, then neither do their opinions. Sure he has his weak points, his points where the entire world just seems too loud for him and he DOES start to pay attention to the murmurings, but the majority of the time, he just...doesn't care.

Bill realized a long time ago that you can either care what everybody thinks or you can have a career in Hollywood--but you can't do both.

And I think tiger really admires that side of Bill, admires the way he can just flick that off switch an not care. Not about the people who don't matter, anyway. But tiger? for all her fiery exterior, tiger cares a little too much.

And listen, as much as I like my fairy tale paradises much as I want to turn this into maybe something happened that wasn't her fault-I also want to go the other way. Because sometimes we fuck up in a big way. Sometimes something is all our fault because we didn't think, we didn't do what we were supposed to, we got lazy or knowingly shoved something aside. Sometimes it's honest mistake, sometimes it isn't. And hell I've gotten fired from like 6 jobs in my life--for everything from an attitude problem to a genuine mistake--so I'm kind of partial tot his idea that tiger really did fuck up, because there's a much heavier magnitude to it.

So look, she fucks up. Big time. And she calls Bill at lunch, bawling her eyes out over it. She got in trouble at work, maybe it escalated to the real top dog in charge, and tiger got a heavy reprimanding. And she's embarrassed, she's remorseful, she's so full of shame and bad feelings and she's tormented at what she did. Her job might be on the line. All of which she's attempting to squeak out to him over the phone, but she's wheezing and her sobs are breaking up her sentences and Bill is just trying to get the gist of what happened, tell her to breathe, try to calm her down.

"Tiger, do you want me to come to you?" he offers. And he offers it more because he knows he'll be a little more successful at calming her down, at thwarting an asthma attack, if she's there in front of him.

"No I, I have to get back," she stammers through tears, "Oh god Bill. Oh god--"

"Tiger, just get through the next few hours okay?" he tries to soothe, "Yes, you fucked up and yes, it's bad. But get through the next few hours and we'll sort this out together."

"How am I supposed to go back in there?" she mutters.

"The same way you always do, full of piss and vinegar and with your head held high. It was a mistake, kid."

"A bad one, Bill I--"

"You're going to get through the afternoon and you're going to come home, I'll pour you a drink, and we'll talk it out for as long as you need," he says, "Just a few more hours, kid."

She nods even though he can't see her.

"Okay," she acquiesces, "A few more hours."

And listen, when she gets home, Bill is ready. He pours her a real strong drink, and pulls her in for a long hug. He helps her out of her work clothes, sits her up on the counter while he takes her make up off for her, and then he plunks her on the couch with her feet in his lap--and he listens. He just listens. It's clear that she wants to talk, and that's how tiger figures things out sometimes--or at least, how she gets over them. She talks them through, sometimes in circles, re-living every small detail but Bill just listens. He asks questions when he can, but otherwise he just lets her rant and lets her cry.It's going to be a long night, because tiger processes things by just going over them time and time again. She's not hungry, and while he will insist she eat a little something later on, right now she just needs to calm down a bit. And once her cheeks are mostly dry, once she's just more tired than anything else, that's when he helps her to the second part.

Tiger is anal retentive to an insane degree. She needs a plan, not advice. She needs to identify every possible scenario and work through it. So he gets his laptop and sets back on the couch.

"Alright, what's scenario A?" he asks. Tiger takes in a deep, shaky breath and knocks the rest of her whiskey back--he leans over and refills her glass.

"Scenario A," she says, "Is that I get fired."

His fingers tap that out.

"And what's the plan for that?"

"The plan is I go massively into debt, can't pay my rent, and end up living on the street."

He holds in the sigh and he barely contains his eye roll, and taps it out.

"Solution?" he asks.

"None."

But that, he won't be having that.

"Solution is you have a rich best friend who covers your rent and all expenses while you look for work," he says, and that's what he taps out.

"Bill--"

"What's Scenario B?" he interrupts.

"Scenario B," she sighs, "Is that I get a heavy reprimanding from work, maybe taken off a few projects."

"Okay," he taps, "Solution?"

"Just time," she says, "It's going to suck. I'm going to be embarrassed. But I can't fight it. I just....fucked up."

And it continues like that. Bill just listens very patiently for hours, hell maybe they run through the whole alphabet in scenarios, but he knows it's the only thing that will help her. Just running through every possible outcome, and its solutions. When she's finally basically asleep sitting up, he takes her (fourth) whiskey glass from her and crowds her space, just gets right up in there and puts his knee between her legs, hovers over her as she looks up at him.

"Let me be clear about one thing kid," he says, and it's that no-nonsense tone, "The scenario you can always rely on is me being there. Always, kid. You'll never end up on the street, you'll never be behind in your bills, and you'll never be hungry. I've got you."

And she opens her mouth to protest, but he places a hand over it.

"I've got you," he says again, "Clear? Call it Scenario double A."

She kisses his palm.

"Scenario double-Z?" she offers, "The last resort."

"Whatever you want to call it," he says, "It's there. Always."

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill

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softboywriting · 3 years

Text

Surprise | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You’ve got some news for Nathan and now is as good a time as any. [F!ReaderxNathan] [Pregnancy] [Established Relationship] [No Use of Y/N]

Word Count: 1k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan is the epitome of a man baby. A week after you arrived at the complex following your trip home for the holidays with your family, he came down with a cold. Statistically it should be impossible for him to get ill. There are no outside sources to contaminate his immune system. Except you. You and your vacation germs, and he is a major cry baby about the whole situation.

"This is your fault."

"No it's not." You lean back on the chair in the lounge while he lays under three blankets across the couch with a cold compress on his head. He barely had the sniffles and he's laid up like a man on his deathbed. "It's your fault."

"How? Do tell me how I contracted a cold from not leaving this place?"

"It's your fault because you kissed me."

Nathan scoffs.

You get up and cross the room to kneel beside him. It's time to take his temperature again. "Am I wrong?"

"No."

"You broke your own rules about staying apart for a week to prevent this because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants." You shake the thermometer and look at the little red bar inside. "Open up."

Nathan glares as he allows you to pop the cold little stick under his tongue.

"While I've got you quiet for a few minutes, I want to say that I've got some news."

He furrows his brow in confusion.

"There's no easy way to say this."

Nathan spits the thermometer out. "What's wrong?"

"You're supposed to keep that in for two minutes."

"I don't fucking care. What is wrong?"

You lay a hand on his blanket covered chest and you can see true fear in his eyes. He is expecting the absolute worst at this point. You've never come to him with such a serious approach.

"I'm pregnant."

He is silent.

"Nathan, I know we didn't discuss that possibility. I am on birth control but I think I missed a few weeks. We got so busy with building Ava and I didn't even think-"

"I fucked you so good I put a baby in you?"

"I- um, yes?"

He lets out a little smug chuckle. "I'm damn good."

"Yeah, this isn't about your bedroom skills okay?"

"You wanna keep it?"

You take a deep breath and sit back on your heels. "I don't...I don't know."

Nathan sits up and runs a hand over your hair. Fingers toying with the ends a bit. "What's your hesitation?"

"Everything." You look around the room, gesturing to the house in general. "I can't raise a child in a research facility."

"You think you'll raise it alone?"

"N-no? I mean I guess I assumed that because you're so busy and everything you wouldn't be interested in chasing a toddler around or changing diapers at all hours of the day." You laugh softly, threading a hand through your hair and tugging. "I'm not going to keep it."

"Put all of that aside. Do you want it?"

"I guess?"

"No you're not listening. Do you want the baby, yes or no?" Nathan says slowly like he does when he's trying to explain something to you for the dozenth time. "It's a simple answer."

"It is not!"

"Yes it is! Do you want the fucking baby or not!"

You tremble, hands balled into fists on your lap. "Yes! Okay! Yes I want it! But I'm scared!"

"What are you scared of?"

"You! Nathan, I'm scared of you!"

He leans back and he looks like you've just knocked the wind out of him. As if you've stolen every word from his mouth and he can no longer speak. He opens his mouth several times but nothing comes out, like a fish out of water. It's as if he never considered that he would be the reason for your hesitation.

You push up from the floor and he grabs your hand, stopping you from getting too far. "Let go Nathan."

"No." He curls his fingers around yours. "No, I won't let you go. Not ever."

"It's fine. I don't expect you to want this child. I just thought it would be fair to tell you since it's yours."

He sits up and tugs your hand. "Come here. Sit on my lap."

"I don't want to."

"Please?" He gives you the softest look you've ever seen. "Let's talk."

You step back and sit on his legs, staring down at him even as he sits up, you're higher. You don't know where to start so you just remain quiet.

"What about me makes you afraid?"

"Everything." You laugh sadly. "I have no idea how you would be with a child. You drink too much. You're lost to your work most days. You've got no patience for things that slightly inconvenience or annoy you. Not to mention how remote we are and how would the child learn, and grow and socialize?"

Nathan runs his hand over your stomach. "Give me a chance. I'll get sober and I'll work on everything else for the next nine months."

"Why? Why do you care?"

"Why do I care?" He scoffs. "It's my child. I can make a hundred robots but none of them are alive. None of them are a human being who is my flesh and blood. My legacy." He smiles and grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips. "A child of my own would be my greatest creation and something I would love unconditionally."

"You're serious?"

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

"No. You want to do this?" You touch your stomach. "You wanna have a baby?"

"Fuck yeah." He grins and wraps his arm around you, pressing his face into your chest. "Can't wait to meet this little monster."

"Hey!"

"Lovingly of course." He stares up at you over his glasses. "But you know he's going to be a menace."

"You're so confident it's going to be a boy?"

"Absolutely. Guys with big dicks always have sons."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Science." He laughs, kissing your stomach. "Trust me. It's a boy."

You rub your hand over his head and he makes a little growly sound against your shirt. "We're doing this then?"

"One hundred percent."

End

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thank you so much for reading! please reblog and support content creators such as myself :) -A

Header pic by delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman fic #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman fanfic #ex machina #ex machina fic #ex machina movie #Oscar Issac #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac character

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onmykneesforhotdilfs · 3 years

Note

Please prompt number 2, if you can of course!!! Ah, Bloom says "Kiss me" only if you can.

I am so fucking sorry you had to wait this long. I hope it doesn't happen again, or at least the wait isn't as long. Hope you enjoy.

Damn wizards. Bloom cursed in her head as another pretty powerful beam was aimed directly at her, only narrowly missing her as she managed to side step it, while she struggled to put on a shield. Of course they had to run to Omega, into the coldest and probably the most dangerous dimension there is. Of course, she was immensely grateful they didn't chose some sort of populated area for this battle, but icicles and sharp objects flying from the ceiling of the cave really weren't her idea of an ideal date. They were more in the realm of an ice witch. The thought of Icy made her shudder and loose focus for a brief second.

"Bloom!" Sharp voice echoed through the cave as another spell flew over her head. She barely managed to turn around to face the one that called her before she was pulled to the side, and what she would come to realize only a second later out of the harms way, when a painful groan rung out next to her. She turned towards the figure the floor and nearly threw up when she saw blood on it.

Valtor was laying on the floor, clutching his bleeding arm with an impressive gash on it, and Bloom would've made a joke about him acting like a prince on a white horse if she wasn't so busy trying to hold the content of her stomach there where it belonged. She stood in a stupor for a few seconds but another painful groan snapped her out of it. She dropped down next to Valtor in a crouch as her hands roamed over the injury,as if she wasn't sure what she should do.

"Layla don't!" Stella's shriek made her turn around only to see Layla disappear after the wizards, that she didn't even realize stopped throwing spells at them, deeper into the Omega. Bloom turned back towards Valtor who gripped her arm and gently shoved her away from her as he struggled to stand up. She wanted to ask what the hell is he doing when she noticed Brandon rushing towards them as Morgana held a shield to protect her warrior fairies and specialists.

"Go after them!" Valtor was shouting words at her but his voice seemed muffled, almost as if she was hearing him through a thick fog, compared to the loud noise falling debris made as it collided with the icy floor.

She shook her head negative. "You're hurt! I can fix it! I just need a couple of minutes!" She saw his eyes widen comically as Brandon finally reached them and grabbed Valtor under his good arm and hauled him up. Bloom rose with them, her hand with magic, gathered in the coiled fist, still hovered above his wound.

Valtor shook off Brandon's hands as he leaned closer to Bloom and gripped her forearms. "They need you more than I do! Layla needs you! I'll be alright! Now go give those wizards hell!" When he healized she was still hesitating and that she was about to protest, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to himself as his forhead came to rest against her own, which was an unusual sight because he had to bend down quite a bit despite the fact she was in heels and she tilted her head up towards him as far as it would go.

The tension between the two former enemies was palpable from the moment the portal to Gardinia opened and no one was immune to it. Since the now-on-the-good-side Valtor stepped through the gates of Alfea in an effort to combine forces with fairies to battle one of his acquaintances, Ogron, who apparently rubbed him the wrong way in the past, the sparks flying from both guardians of the dragon flame were hard to ignore. Even Sky seemed to recognize the not so innocent glances the two sent to each other on a daily basis, and therefore letting Bloom go seemed like the only rational option. Bloom was pretty sure there was even a bet going on between the specialists and the Winx girls whose primary focus was the relationship of the two guardians. She heard Stella complaining once, when she thought Bloom wasn't listening, about how she will lock them up in a magic room until they... talked their way through their problems. Mind you, talked was not the term Stella used.

Valtor squeezed Bloom's hips in a bruising grip and the flashbacks seemed to evaporate before her eyes. His sharp features slid back into focus and Bloom opened her mouth to say something but Valtor was slightly faster about it. "There is something I've been meaning to talk to you about! But in order to do that you need to go there," he pointed behind her in the direction wizards of the black circle disappeared, "and win this battle!" She opened her mouth again to finally say something only to realize she had nothing to say. She snapped her mouth shut and nodded. "Go! We'll be fine!" And just like that she broke out of his hold and rushed towards the battle sounds.

Valtor turned around on his heels and this time grabbed still shocked Brandon and pulled him towards the protective dome Morgana struggled to keep up. His arm stung unpleasantly but the bleeding stopped and regeneration already started knitting torn ligaments and tissue together. His commanding voice rung out. "Alright, let's get out of here." No one dared to argue, well almost no one.

"What about the girls, we can't just leave them to fight the wizards alone?" The blonde prince was sending glares in Valtor's way but they weren't as hostile as he expected. Valtor turned his head to look at the place where Bloom dissapeared.

"Layla is their responsibility, and besides, we ourselves are more of a liability than help. "

Sky nodded and Valtor grabbed one of the injured fairies while specialists helped the rest as they made their way out.

Ground shook beneath Valtor's feet as an epic battle raged in the tunnels beneath the ground. Valtor could feel pulses of magic, light and dark beams equally strong, until something seemed to happen and light magic prevailed. Valtor held his breath. Time seemed to stop. Not even a single sound was heard. Seconds passed. Until a familiar beating of wings disrupted the eerie silence and six fairies flew out. Valtor's heart climbed into his throat. The winx seemed to be one fairy short, one fiery fairy short to be precise. Valtor focused on the flame raging in his chest as it searched for it's other half. The pull in his chest seemed to get stronger until it almost bursted from it's place of residence when he saw Bloom flying out with Nebula in tow. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief as cheers of both the Winx and the rest of the fairies rung through the valley.

The Frutti Music bar was overflowing with people. Andy and his band took the stage as Roxy served drinks to the impatient customers and Klaus hurriedly mixed cocktails behind the bar. Everything seemed to return to normal, almost like nothing happened in the first place. That was one of the things Valtor never understood about humans. No matter how big of a trouble they seemed to find themselves in, they never lost hope. His arm almost healed in the few hours but Flora insisted that he should wear a bandage just in case the wound reopened.

His gaze ran over the bar, searching for a group of six fairies, or more precisely, searching for a head full of bright red hair that somehow always managed to stand apart from every environment and every crowd. He found what he was looking for on the other end of the bar and he made his way towards them. As he drew closer he noticed another blob of silver hair that belonged to only one person Valtor knew. An arm grabbed Valtor's biceps and he turned towards the owner.

Brandon handed him a cocktail and Valtor's confusion must've been pretty obvious because Brandon shrugged and said, "I figured you'd want something to drink before you face Faragonda."

Valtor laughed, a deep sound coming somewhere from his stomach, even his shoulders shook with it. "I am unsure just how much it will help me relax, considering the fact I usually indulge in something a bit stronger... but I appreciate the effort."

"I didn't believe Stella when she told me you can be pleasant to be around."

Valtor raised a questioning eyebrow. "What is your opinion now?"

"That I should always believe what my girlfriend says."

Valtor chuckled. "I'd take that with a grain of salt. After all, I can also be really unpleasant."

"Oh we know." He slapped Valtor on his shoulder. "Good luck man. You'll need it." Valtor had a sneaky suspension Brandon wasn't refering to a meeting with a headmistress of Alfea. He looked at the retrieving back of specialist with a smirk on his face. Who knew not all of them were just fools with an inflamed ego and fancy swords.

He shook his head and took a sip of the drink he had in his hand and then grimaced. The cocktail was definitely something that Stella or Flora would prefer. Fruity and sweet. He stepped towards the group he originally intended to meet and managed to catch what Faragonda was saying. "I'm extremely proud of you girls."

"You should be." His booming voice reached them and Faragonda jumped a bit, startled, as seven pairs of eyes turned towards him. "They did defeat the wizards all by themselves." He locked eyes with Bloom who had a smile on her face and Valtor felt his lips twitch upwards.

"Something happened to your arm Valtor?"

"An icicle fell on it. Just don't tell me you're worried about me Faragonda. I'll start thinking you care." Valtor rolled his eyes as sarcasm dripped from every word.

"What a shame it only grazed your arm. I would think that enormous head of yours makes for a convenient target. It's so massive it probably has it's own gravitational pull." Faragonda smirked and it looked surprisingly evil on her.

"Are you sure you're a fairy and not a witch Faragonda? Might wanna erase that smirk from your face unless you want people to start thinking otherwise. " Valtor looked at her with challenge in his eyes as his lips formed in an evil grin that would scare lesser beings but it only managed to irritate Faragonda.

"Touché Valtor."

"Thank you, I try." He handed the fruity cocktail to Stella that tried really hard to resist laughing at the irritated face of her headmistress, but some giggles still escaped, as she held Flora's arm for support. He turned towards Bloom who now had a hand across her mouth so Faragonda wouldn't see her laughing but the adorable wrinkles around her eyes crinkled, a clear sign she was smiling. He made a gesture with his head that indicated she should come with him when she finally finished laughing and looked at him. He heard Stella squeal in excitement as Flora gasped when Solarian princess gripped her arm. Bloom bit her lip and took Valtor's offered hand as he lead them to the beach and away from the crowd. He heard Stella scream about how 'It's finally happening!' And Flora's gentle voice telling her to calm down because 'You're crushing my arm Stella.'

They walked hand in hand through the crowd, some of the guests giving them weird looks, but Valtor's intimidating form seemed to part the said crowd like a Red sea. She stopped at the exit that lead to the beach, Valtor offering his support while she bent down to take off her shoes because she learned that high heels and sand don't really mix that well. She once again took his hand when her bare feet touched the now pleasantly warm and no longer scorching hot sand but she also went step further, something that greatly surprised Valtor, when she intertwined their fingers.

They walked hand in hand for a while, not daring to break a rather pleasant silence. When they were far enough from praying eyes of the people Valtor finally stopped and turned towards the ocean. He was eager to get Bloom alone but now that they actually were alone he started wondering if it was really a good idea. He felt Bloom's eyes drilling a hole at the back of his neck but he patiently waited for her to make the first move and break the ice so to speak.

"So..." her voice broke through and Valtor turned towards her, "you wanted to talk. Well here we are. What did you want to tell me?"

Valtor chuckled bitterly. "I wanted to talk to you about... us. But now I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

She crossed her arms underneath her chest. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"Not in the way you would think. I know I... like you." He inhaled sharply, "Dragon, I sound like a teenage boy."

Bloom giggled at that statement but Valtor could see if was forced. "But?"

"I don't know if this will work." Admitting that he didn't know something wasn't simple for him and he realized Bloom knew it as well when her lips pressed together in a small but embarrassed smile. "I know we have... something. Something is obviously here but... will that something be enough to keep us motiva-"

"Kiss me." She interrupted him with a phrase Valtor never thought he would hear directed at him. His mouth opened and closed but no sound escaped. He was shocked into silence.

"W-What?"

"Kiss me." She repeated loud and clear. "You want to know if the chemistry we have will be enough to... get us through it." She lowered her gaze as blush appeared on her cheeks. She shrugged. "It's like a Schrodinger's cat. We won't know unless we try." Her eyes swept across all the surfaces she could find until they locked on Valtor's shocked one's. She squirmed and averted her gaze as she started fidgeting and her arms came to hug herself in order to make herself appear smaller. "Of course if you don't want to that's ok I was just making a sug-"

In all the rush she was in to excuse her impulsive words she failed to notice that Valtor finally got over his shock and has quickly reduced the distance between their bodies. This time it was Bloom that got interrupted as Valtor cupped her face and did exactly what she asked him to do. He sealed their lips together, cutting off her nervous speech in the best way possible. There was no firework or explosion behind closed eyelids, just an incredible heat that coursed through their veins. He felt Bloom's breath hitch but she quickly recovered and her arms came to grip his shoulders as she stood on her tip toes and craned her neck upwards. Valtor chuckled at her attempts to make this easier on him but took pity when she whined and pressed her lips harder against his. He bent down as his tongue swept over her lower lip, asking for a permission that she granted without any resistance, and his arms came to wrap around her waist before he picked her up and she let out a noise of surprise as her feet no longer stood on firm surface.

Bloom was first to break the kiss as her teeth came to bite her already swollen lips. "Wow." It was the first thing she spoke since he kissed her and he laughed at her surprised expression and astonished whisper.

"Wow indeed." He lowered her feet back on the ground but she swayed for a second so he kept his arms on her waist just in case she got light headed. "So... is the cat alive?"

"Alive and kicking." Her hands gripped his shirt.

"Hmmm."

"Maybe we should, ehem, repeat the experiment a few more times... just so we're sure in the result." Valtor's pupils dilated and his grip on her waist tightened.

"We should be careful." His voice was a growl and Bloom shuddered visibly. "We might set something on fire."

"Well," Bloom smiled as she lifted her head up once again and her hands started tugging on his shirt to get him closer. "at least there's an ocean to extinguish any wild fires we might cause."

#bloom #winx club #baltor x bloom #bloom x baltor #bloom x valtor #sparxshipping #valtor #valtor x bloom #winx #sparxshipping prompts #sparxshipping questions #sparxshipping requests #sparxshipping fluff

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obeymebabes · 4 years

Text

Your First (Mammon x MC)

Warnings: Slight spoilers for the Mammon birthday event. Also really fluffy.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMS!!! This is based on a scene from the Mammon birthday event. I’ve done a fic for everyone’s birthday thus far so I might as well continue it! I’m sorry if this isn’t the best, I didn’t plan this out like I usually do and just tried to go with the flow.

Summary: You need to help Mammon try to sleep so the brothers can set up his surprise party. You have offered to stay with him and talk until he gets tired. You also want to be the first to wish him a happy birthday.

Just a few more hours until his big day.

Mammon’s birthday was just around the corner. He was so excited that he told everyone a week in advance. His brothers had everything planned perfectly for him. All thanks to you of course.

The day before was exhausting, making sure everything was ready to be set up later that night while Mammon slept. Of course they stuck you on duty to make sure he would go to sleep.

That night you headed to Mammon’s room. Upon walking through the door you found Mammon standing up and talking to himself, looking visibly distraught about something.

“Aaaaah, damn it! I can’t sleep!” Mammon groaned, trying to rub his eyes to see if it would help.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, making him aware of your presence. He smiled in your direction when he saw you, quickly making his way to you.

“Oh, MC! Perfect timing! I was playin’ this game that Levi recommended, and there was this scary scene with a whole bunch of zombies…!” He explained, shaking his head at the thought.

It’s still shocking to you that a demon, a very powerful one at that, is able to be so easily scared by a game or movie about something that doesn’t even exist. Like zombies. He has seen so much throughout his years of life that surely he would be immune to such “scary” creatures.

“Playin’ something like that right before bed is seriously just the worst…” Mammon avoided eye contact with you, blushing a bit at how ridiculous he sounded. “Not that I’m scared of anything! I’m just too excited to sleep, ya know?” His voice faltered momentarily as he tried to save his dignity by adding that additional information.

He just wanted to seem like the big, scary protective demon that he had portrayed in his own fantasy. He couldn’t let a mere human think he was anything less than what he was. A demon like him shouldn’t be so terrified.

Luckily, the Avatar of Sloth showed up at the perfect time. Stepping into Mammon’s room to join you both, he smiled.

“Did I hear that you can’t sleep, Mammon?” Belphegor asked, ignoring Mammon’s previous comments about being scared of a video game cut-scene.

Mammon laughed a bit as he noticed his normally sleeping brother was awake. His snide comment said it all, “Oh, Belphie! You’re awake too, huh? That’s pretty rare!”

Taking a moment to look around his room, Mammon thought of an idea. Not the best idea, but an idea nonetheless.

“Oh, I know. Since we’re all here, why don’t we stay up together? I got some cards. Wanna play a few rounds or somethin’?”

This wasn’t at all going according to plan. Mammon was wide awake. He didn’t show any signs of being tired, either. Belphie, luckily, had somewhat of a plan. He was the Avatar of Sleep Sloth after all. This was his specialty. Sort of.

Mammon looked impatient, shifting his footing as he waited for an answer from either you or his sleepy brother.

“No. It’s really late. So here, read this and go to bed.” Belphie handed his brother a letter. One of the many letters that he had received over the past few days. It may have seemed like a silly idea at first but you could tell that Mammon really enjoyed having the spotlight.

Mammon took the letter, reading the name of it, “For when you can’t sleep – Part 1.”? Confused by what this meant, he opened it to read the inside. “Please make use of Belphie’s co-sleeping service.”

Looking even more confused than before, he eyed the both of you. Before he had a chance to speak, you spoke up first, “That’s exactly what you need right now!”

Mammon looked back down at the paper then back to Belphie. “What the heck is “Belphie’s co-sleeping service”?” Belphie had a grin across his face. “You don’t have to be shy, Mammon. I’m a pro when it comes to sleep.”

You sat and watched the Avatar of Greed eye his brother. “Only when it comes to your own sleep!” You could see that Mammon was visibly annoyed by being offered such a ridiculous situation. Why did he have to listen to the stupid paper? What did this even mean?

Belphie made his way over to Mammon’s bed. Crawling into it, making himself right at home with his cow-patterned pillow. You couldn’t help but giggle at how frustrated Mammon was getting. Yelling at his younger brother to get out of his bed.

Within seconds, Belphie was out cold while Mammon and you both sat there looking at him. The greedy demon groaned and walked over to shake his sleeping brother awake. None of this was going to plan. How was Mammon supposed to sleep when his brother was only annoying him instead of actually helping him?

Finally shaking him awake, Belphie groaned and looked around to see that he was still in Mammon’s room. He rubbed his eyes and laughed. With a yawn, the formerly sleeping demon looked at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Fine. MC, it’s time for Part 2.” He mentioned, rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes. Mammon turned to you, still very confused about the situation that was going on. Belphie urged you to hand over the letter you had prepared for tonight should the Avatar of Sloth’s plan not work.

You carefully handed him the next letter that you had stowed away in your pocket. Taking it, Mammon blushed, since it was from you after all.

With a grin, he read the words on the front, “For when you can’t sleep - Part 2.” Opening it, seemingly excited he couldn’t help but smile. “MC’s bedtime chat service.”? MC is going to chat with me until I fall asleep?! Yeah that’s what I’m talking about!”

Nearly jumping for joy at the time he gets to spend with you tonight, he rushed to get his brother out of his room. Not long after Belphegor left, Mammon was rushing to talk to you.

You started out talking about the birthday letters, he was telling you all about how happy he was to receive them, since he had never had an experience like this before in his time of living. Looking into his eyes you could tell how happy he was to have you here with him, especially if it meant spending the night in his room.

“Hey, since you’re here, why don’t we chat until it’s midnight?” He offered, smiling as he fiddled with his thumbs.

You smiled at him, looking him in the eyes before you spoke. How could you pass up an offer like that? It was one of the few uninterrupted times you had with him. No one was going to come in and bother you.

“Okay, because I want to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday!” You answered, noticing the greedy demon blush.

With that being said, the both of you talked.

It was getting rather close to midnight, and you had both talked for quite some time. With still a few moments left to spare, the room went silent as you both thought about everything that you had just covered within the last 55 minutes of talking. Most of it was nothing of interest, just his silly stories that made you both laugh.

That was something he really loved to do. Make you laugh. See you smile. As long as you were happy, he was equally as happy.

“Remember when you first got to Devildom?” He questioned, his voice no louder than a whisper. Your eyes met his. A small smile curling from his lips. You nodded as a reply to his question.

“I don’t know what I was thinkin’ when I thought you were all bad just ‘cause you were human. You’re really great ya know. The more I get to know about ya the more I like ya. I don’t know how I did anythin’ without ya for the last… however many years.” He let out a small chuckle. Your heart fluttering from his kind words.

“You know, I was really skeptical about this place. About you, even, but I’ve come to realize you’re just a big softie.” Your words almost seemed to hurt him. He looked a bit offended. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. You were MY first, after all.”

His eyes found yours again and he couldn’t help but smile a toothy grin from hearing that. He loved hearing such praise from you.

“You are MY human. I ain’t lettin’ no one else have ya. Got it?” He gently pressed a hand to your cheek, luring you closer to him. Leaning in to his touch, you could feel his breath against your skin.

“I, The Great Mammon, am really lucky that I have ya. I’d go as far as sayin’ you’re the best treasure I’ve ever gotten, and I didn’t even have to steal ya.” The heat of his breath lingered on your face, making you smile at his kind words.

“Just kiss me already, moron.”

With that being said, he did as he was told. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss. His lips lingering against yours. Savouring every moment he could. Perfection. It was everything he had ever dreamed of and more.

When he pulled away, the room was silent. Averting his eyes away from you and shifting a bit in his seat. He was embarrassed by how much you and your affection really affected him. Never in all of his years of living did he imagine falling for a human. The demon checked his D.D.D for the time, which indicated it was midnight.

Breaking the silence between you both, he looked back to you.

“...Oh! It’s midnight! The start of my birthday!”

You smiled at his excitement. The last time you’d ever seen him this happy was when he got Goldie back.

“My life wouldn’t be the same without you, Mammon. Happy birthday.”

He was shocked by your comment. He wasn’t expecting such a heartfelt birthday wish.

“Oh man, I just felt my heart melt.” Mammon chuckled. “I’m so happy that I’m even more awake now! How am I going to fall asleep?”

Getting up carefully with a grin, you took his hand and brought him over to his bed where you peeled back the covers to crawl in. Complying after turning off the lights, he got in next to you, pulling you close to him.

“I ain’t lettin’ you go tonight. Got it?” His voice was low. You closed your eyes, he had you wrapped tight in his arms, his warmth transferring to your body. You could feel him breathe out a sigh of relief, enjoying and savouring the moment he had with your body pressed tight against his.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

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