#or better yet the stone of an important month like month you met or month you get married etc

[laneynoir]

Heyyy :)

I was wondering if you could do “How long has it been since someone hugged you?” From the writing prompts, but with Y/n asking Legolas that? Cuz I thought that would be fitting ig.

I love youuu <33

I adore this idea! And of course, I've never tried to write a wedding scene before, so please don't shoot me (or do, that's your choice.)

"A month!" The cry of Gimli is met with an amused expression from the king. "Near an entire month yet you've kept us here, under no clear pretense! Only now to tell us that this elven lass is to be your bride?" Here does Gimli pause, looking to Arwen. "You are a lass? I thought Legolas was for the first week of our journy, your braids are so odd."

Laughter as soft and glowing as the stars flows from the Lady Undómiel. "Yes Lord Gimli, I seem to remember your father, Gloin, making the same mistake. Worry not though, you have not insulted me any more than you did my grandmother when you asked her favour."

"Well I for one," You break in before Gimli can start another speech on the grace of Galadriel. "Would like to be the first to offer you both congratulations. My heart sings that you should finaly be wed, I can think of no better a reward in peacetime for what you hace done for our world."

Legolas echoes your words. "Indeed, I can think of none more deserving of this union, prehaps Lord Elrond has finally decided you worthy of the sceptre of Annúminnas?" The jest is taken goodnaturedly by Aragorn, who responds with a false groan. However the comment perplexes the residant Hobbits, and it is Pippin who asks what on earth 'and you minnes' is.

A lovely smirk on her face, Arwen supplies. "When he was young, and first come to Imladrís, Aragorn was given the heirlooms of his house, save the Sceptre of Annúminnas which my father withheld until Aragorn should earn it. This supplied my brothers with a bet: for which could Aragorn earn first? Arwen or The 'shiney stick'? My father learned of this bet before, and with some vindictive pleasure enssured that Aragorn should gain both at once."

The laughter of the fellowship causes no embarrassment for the Man, he has eyes only for his beloved. "All true words, though I am afraid still that I will never truly earn your love, but I will spend the rest of my days trying."

After the others who are there offer their congradulations, Sam asks a question which has obviously been bothering him. "Begging you pardon, but who do you have making the cake? Strider hasn't introduced us to any of his family, and I was curious."

Aragorn frowns. "The... Cake? I suppose one of the cooks will provide a cake." Four gasps of horror, and one of laughter (from you) resound at the statement. "I beg your pardon, it seems we've reached a cultural differance yet again. Samwise, would you tell us of this tradition?"

Despite the faint blush on his cheeks, Sam agrees. "Cakes are very important at wedding sir! Why the very though of not having one is horrible. When a couple is joined in matrimony, the youger parent of the younger partner bakes the cake. At the wedding, the couple slices the cake which is colored on the inside, and if a bit of the blue is on the spoon, the first child will be a girl, if it's red, then the babe will be a boy."

Aragorn smiles kindly at the hobbit. "It would surly be a shame to skip such a delightful tradition, though my blood family no longer lives. If it is I would ask you to fill the task?"

Sam's face lights up in pride and delight. "It would be an honour, I promise that no pastry will ever rival the wedding cake of the first restored rulers of Gondor!"

~

The entire city seems to have accepted invitations for the wedding; people of all ages crowd around the the palace gardens (which, true to his word, Legolas has assisted in whiping into shape).Vines of deep greens creep down contrasting white stone arches, life on cold rock, hope in an empty place.

Aragorn stands under one such arch, dressed in royal garb that has caused at least two of his new subjects to swoon. His face shows nothing but calm content- at least on the surface. However to the eye of one who has traveled for high on a year with the man, and lived for his youth in Imladrís, you can see the stress in his eye.

Standing on the side of Aragorns honour guests, you send him what you hope is a comforting and encouraging smile. He inclines his head just the slightest amount, acknowledging you. His attention shifts rapidly however as a string of clear music flows from the hands of the twin elven minstrels.

As one, the congregation of men, elves, hobbits, a wizard, and dwarves alike turn to the opening in the garden wall that separates the high garden feom the battlements.

Framed against the ivy, the light of early dusk adds an ethereal effect to the Evenstar; Arwen. The dress she wears is simple at first glance, a simple white gown with green trimmings. The waves of fabric seem to float around her; her steps are so light they seem nonexistent, she takes Aragorn's hand after steping onto the slightly raised platform.

The ceremony is short, but breathtakingly beautiful. A satin cloth so pure it glows is wrapped around the Royal couple's hands. Eyes locked on the other, they resite there vows, words so heartfelt that very few eye stay dry, and when they seal the union with a passionate kiss that has a watery-eyed Elrond grimacing, the applause is deafening.

Your hands sting with how hard you clap, and you pause, eyes drawn to Legolas beside you. He wears his soft smile, the one that just barely turns the corners of his lips up, yet still makes your heart shudder. Still though, there seems to be an indescribable light in his eye, that hints at somthing hidden behind the facade of content grace and joy he usually keeps.

Curious, you stick close to your elven friend throughout the reception, and as the toasts pass, and the dancing has moved away from the consistent expectation of nobles asking gor a dance, you withdraw to a more secluded area of the brightly lit room. Your eyes wander over the sea of elegantly dressed people, searching as always for the light presance that holds your heart.

"Do you look for someone, Y/n?"

You jolt at the voice, turning happily to Legolas. "Indeed, my prince, though ive found him now." He smiles, but it looks almost... Strained. Sipping on the rosehip wine in your hand you look over the elf. He meets your gaze with the same calm as usual- at least on the surface.

Looking closer you notice the delicate crease in his brow, faint and noticeable as a small ripple on a clear, calm lake. His fingertips tap together, one after the other, each touching once, before he appears to catch himself, and the movement stops, leaving the hands tense.

His actions, and lack thereof, remind you of those before a battle, however legolas even usually did not exhibit such, not even before the throes of Mordor were washed upon you all.

"Legolas," you ask, hesitantly, "what bothers you?"

His eyes widen a moment, before his expression softens. "Nothing of any great importance. Only... I find the sounds and smells of such a large gathering almost suffocating." He says this as if it were a crime, and he were addmiting to such before a council. "Especially after so long of traveling, I have become unacustomed to life in court, and thus the stress which acompanys."

The knowledge that Legolas has been in discomfort for some time, as it draws near midnight, sets a feeling of dismay in your stomach. Straightening yourself resolutely, your snatch up his hand and weave yourself among the outskirts of the crowd.

Through an ornate door you pull Legolas into a small garden, and while the sound of sparse minsterals can be heard, the sound of talking fades into the background. "Better?" You ask, peering at Legolas.

He nods, but you have no time to admire the light in his bearing before he is bowed over your hand. "May I have this dance?"

The question startled you, but you quickly affirm your acceptance, allowing him to pull you closer, and the soft instrumental tune provides a leisurely beat to step with. You meet his eyes, and a mist covers them, so doing the natural thing you remove your hands from Legolas' own, you wrap him in an embrace.

When he stiffens, you make to pull back, but instead he tightens his grip in a way that you can feel the muckes beneath his tunic, his head nestles into the crook of your neck.

Running a hand along his spine in what you hope is an appropriately comforting motion, you feel the damp of his eyes drip onto your skin. "Oh Legolas," You trail off a deapseated sorrow filling your very soul at the inability to know what brings such display to the usually strong and lighthearted elf. "How long has it been since someone hugged you?”

"I- don't..."

At the words you gently pull him to the ground, a movement which is slightly hindered by his unwillingness to release you. When you reach a half sitting, half kneeling position, he draws back slightly. "I apologize, I-" you cut him off with a fingertip to the lips.

"Please do not let such words nor guilt fill you," you trace the line of his brow, and see the pink hue in his eye from tears long withheld. "I love you, and any service I may do, or condolence I can offer... All that I have is yours, please do not try to take the privilege of heloing you away."

A choked "Meleth" is all Legolas can reply to the declaration, but the intent is visable, so you pull him closer, and run the silk soft hairs of his head through your fingers.

For you meant it, anything for him is well worth doing, and you would be colder than the stone in a creek before you could even think about galting your care.

#lotr #legolas x reader #arwen x aragorn #legolas #my fic #i still cant tag things #hug time #sad boi elf

[karatekels]

Valek TIG. Reader is Jack’s daughter (18+). The church put the cross at a church at a catholic boarding school for slayer’s children in training to be future slayers, trying to keep everything that needed guarding together. But in reality Valek is able to get the cross and a definite reason to keep Jack engaged in the fight. What would be better than turning Jack’s only family against him. Enemies to lovers.

I'm SO excited to finally get to this one! I hope that it's worth the wait - I'm anticipating it to be 4 chapters in total, and this is definitely going to be the shortest one.

TW: Indoctrination by the Catholic Church, implied death, blood (very minor... for now)

---

Heirloom - Chapter 1

---

Deep in the centre of Tuscany sits the medieval town of Monteriggioni, perched on a hill and surrounded by high stone walls. A centuries-old fortress, it has long been a place of protection for its allies, and can become fully self-sufficient during times of trouble.

It has been operating as a self-sufficient town for decades now, its gardens plentiful.

While official records claim a population of ten thousand, the number of people living in this little city fluctuates like the ebb and flow of a powerful tide.

The comings and goings of its occupants are a well-kept secret, known only to those who are allowed access to the city in the first place.

Within the walls of Monteriggioni, the next generations of Slayers receive their training.

To the public, this education is given a generic name of importance, one that oozes prestige but does not invite questions: The International School of Siena.

To anyone that looked over the curtain wall of the battlements, they would observe a quiet town with more than its fair share of churches, a large fortress at its centre. In practice, each church was a classroom, the fortress a dormitory to thousands of children and young adults, all slayers-in-training.

Some were orphans taken under the protection of the Catholic Church, others were the children of slayers, descendants of the Crusaders.

All were soldiers. Or at least, they would be before they were allowed beyond the city’s walls.

Those responsible for the Scholars of Monteriggioni (as they were known) held various roles: providers, priests, parents. But above all, they were protectors and educators.

And when you had completed your scholarship and were done being protected and educated by the Elders, you waited.

You, Y/N Crow, have been waiting for years.

You aren’t exactly thrilled about it.

You had spent the first thirteen years of your life raised by a single mother that had done everything possible to keep you from the dark world your father operated within. You hadn’t even met the man until a few months after the fire that had destroyed your life and taken your mother from you.

The Catholic Church had claimed you as a ward with the written permission of your biological father immediately upon your mother’s death, a strange and unwelcome presence as you had not been raised with any sort of faith in your life. Having nothing left in America, you had been relocated to the tiny town of Monteriggioni and introduced to the terrifying reality of vampires that walked among us in the night.

You hadn’t believed the stories until you were forced to witness the execution of a goon with your own eyes, the memory of their screech and charred body burned into your mind forever afterward. You had spent the next ten years being moulded into a warrior, a weapon wielded by the Church to exterminate the unholy scourge of the earth that was the growing vampire population.

And you’ve spent more than two years now waiting to be recruited so you could leave this place.

How was it that you, daughter of the infamous Jack Crow, Master Vampire Hunter, hadn’t been added to a team yet? And even if the nepotism hadn’t helped you, you had excelled in your training. So what could possibly be the reason you were still stuck in Monteriggioni?

You suspect that your so-called father has something to do with it.

You really hate the man.

Where did he get off, taking you from your home and everything you’d known and forcing you to follow in his footsteps and then not even letting you out into the world to prove yourself? The best years of your life, the time when you were supposed to find yourself, had been unceremoniously taken from you, and for what?

With nothing better to do, you had taken to exploring the catacombs beneath the city as of late, trying to map out the complex system of tunnels you had grown up on top of. You would hardly say that you were even an amateur cartographer at this point, but your ever-expanding maps made sense to you, at least.

Your focus over the last few months has been the western quadrant of the tunnels. Your exploration of the other areas have all yielded at least one secret passageway or hidden room, but you haven’t found any in this section yet.

These dark, underground halls had long stopped being scary to you, but today something feels different, like there is a chill in the air. While it had been early evening when you’d descended into the tunnels, night was likely only falling now, and you knew it took a few hours after sundown for the night’s chill to seep this far into the ground. You’d been dealing with an inexplicable draft as well, which shouldn’t have been possible underground, but there it was, playing with the flame of your torch again and threatening to extinguish it.

Ordinarily, you could fiddle with the fuel and the airway to create a smaller, more stable flame – with all of your training, you really only required the tiniest fraction of light to see in the dark – but the symbols marking secret entrances were small, and you needed as much light as you could get if you didn’t want to risk missing them entirely.

You were right to do so, coming across two small symbols shortly after reigniting the torch for the fourth time today: one in the shape of a crescent moon, the other an empty cup. You had seen the latter symbol before, here in the catacombs; it indicated the need for a blood sacrifice for the passageway to open. The moon, however, you had only seen in ancient texts, usually used to symbolize change or transformation due to the multiple phases of the lunar cycle. It probably had something to do with what was housed inside, which meant that it wasn’t one of the disused passageways that led out of the city.

Eagerly, the curiosity burning within you, you set your torch on a nearby sconce before unsheathing your dagger, slicing your thumb with the ease of long practice and pressing it against the symbol of the cup. When you remove your thumb from the wall, the symbol looks like a goblet of wine, and a deep rumbling can be heard before the wall slides open a crack.

Bracing yourself against the opposing wall, you press on the newly revealed door with your leg, pushing it open, the sound of stone on stone grating but not unpleasant. Stepping inside the room with your torch in hand once more, your breath is taken away by what’s inside.

Up on the old stone altar, dozens of candles guiding your gaze upwards like the bannisters of a divine staircase, is a large black crucifix, adorned with gold and rubies. A real, sacred relic, right before your very eyes, glittering magnificently in the torchlight…

Relics like these were rumoured to have been stashed all over the city over the centuries. You’d come across some of the altars where they had been kept during your explorations, but they had always been empty, the precious artifacts moved somewhere else or destroyed.

Did anyone even know that this was here? Should you know that this was here? What were you supposed to do know that you had come across it? You weren’t exactly supposed to be poking around down here; you hope you don’t get in trouble.

“Crow…” an unfamiliar voice, husky yet soft, purrs from behind you. You turn guiltily, hoping that a priest or cardinal isn’t about to condemn you for being down here.

But no one is there, waiting to pass judgement on you.

Something about that whisper of your name has your hair standing on end, and you suddenly feel quite claustrophobic in this stone room beneath the city. Time to get out of here.

Taking one last look at the cross, you take your torch in hand and return it to the sconce in the main hallway, moving to reseal the altar room. Your eyes skim past the symbols that marked this place, before doing a double take.

The cup is no longer red with your blood; instead, a dark stain fills the chalice, the way rock did when it got wet. A shudder runs through you, and you think that the spike in adrenaline will at least make it a bit easier for you to push the think wall of stone back into place.

“What is your name, child?” a new voice, this one equally as unfamiliar as the first, asks from the shadows. You shriek, diving for the torch and brandishing it against the darkness, looking for the speaker.

“Where are you?” you demand, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “Show yourself!”

“Your name…” the voice demands again, high and clear like the ringing of a tuning fork.

“Y/N!” you cry out, wanting the voice to stop more than anything. “Y/N Crow.”

“Did I not tell you, Cassandra?” comes the deeper voice, clearly a male. “Her blood does tempt me so, just the same as her father’s. The blood of a Crusader…” the voice hisses, and you come to a horrifying realization.

Your blood sacrifice hadn’t been absorbed by the stone.

It had been licked clean.

Vampires were underneath Monteriggioni.

Sure enough, two figures slowly emerge from the shadows, staying just on the edge of where the light of the torch fades. From what you can see, both are dressed head to toe in black, only their faces and hands visible, bare and ghostly white. The female is short, shorter than you, with long auburn hair that falls in waves like spilt blood, while the male towers over you even from this distance, his hair dark and brushing his shoulders.

You don’t reply, you can’t reply. You can’t even breathe.

You just turn and run.

You think you hear the faint whispers of a conversation between them, but it’s hard to be certain as your heart pounding in your ears drowns out every sound but the thudding of your feet on stone.

You desperately try to picture your map in your head, but this was the area of the catacombs that you were least familiar with. Left… you need to go left.

There’s a whoosh of air, and your torch flickers again, nearly going out, and then the female vampire stands in front of you with a gentle smile.

Oh. They had been the source of the breeze down here.

Placidly, you wonder how long they had been down here for, how long they had been following you for.

You don’t give it too much thought; you’ll be dead in a moment anyway. You’re glad that the dormitories didn’t have any entrances to the catacombs; that would give everyone else a chance, at least.

“Come with me,” Cassandra’s piercing voice demands, extending a clawed hand towards you.

You take an immediate step back; it’s more of a reflex than anything. She gives you an encouraging smile that doesn’t meet her wide, pale eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little one,” she insists, despite being several inches shorter than you are. “Now come with me,” she purrs, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes seem to glow, and you find yourself moving towards her, feeling like you were floating. She was mesmerizing you.

Knowing that her powers of hypnosis are at work does nothing to break you from their spell, and as you find yourself walking into her open arms, Cassandra laughs delightedly, wrapping you in a cruel imitation of a hug.

“Now… sleep.”

Weightless, your world fades to black.

---

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue

One of the things that disappoints me the most about John Carpenter's Vampires is that there are quite a few cool ideas and concepts that are just... not built on at all, in favour of more screentime for Katrina's abuse or James Woods's unpleasant quips. I really want to build up this world, and that starts with giving at least SOME of the other Master/Mistress vampires a name, starting with Cassandra!

#thomas ian griffith #jan valek #vampires #valek x reader #thanks for the ask! #heirloom #dark desires october

[vkt0r]

hii, erm─ may I request a Rotxo x sully!reader? Just Rotxo having romantic feelings for the reader who is a very reserved and stoic person. Idk maybe he just gets very confused yet happy when the reader reciprocates his feelings cuz he thought she didn't like him or sum like that? if not then it's fine:)🫶🫶

⌇˚.༄ ❝ no one like you ❞ ── imagine

✩ | avatar imagines

֙⋆— synopsis : when rotxo finally confesses his feelings for y/n, he was pleasantly surprised, when they reciprocated them.

⋆— note : thank you for the request, love it !! <3

⋆— pairing : rotxo / gn!sully!reader

⋆— word count : 579

⋆— warnings : fluff, ooc, not proofread

It was a day like any other. You were walking trough the jungle, stumbling over brachnes and stones. You and your family have been here since a few months now, adapting pretty good to the reef.

You still got mean comments from some of the Metkayina people, especially Ao'nung and his little friend group, though it got better with the time. There was also Rotxo, a boy your age, who was the best friend of Ao'nung.

He was never mean to you, always looking out for you and making conversation when you were alone. It was nice, since there weren't many people who talked to you, except your family and Tsireya.

"Come closer, look!" You stepped near Rotxo, trying to be careful, as to not wake the sleeping creature that laid in the sun, sleeping soundly.

This morning, you were greeted by an energic Rotxo, who said something of the lines of "there's something in need to show you", "it's very important", "you will love it"

You didn't thought much of it, since the boy never did anything to harm you and you trusted him the most from the people in this clan.

"What is this?" The boy next to you gave you a grin, then turned around to the animal. "I don't know, we've never seen it before," he said, grabbing your hand to pull the both of you a little closer. "It's been here for a while now. We're still trying to figure out where it's from." You shrugged your shoulders, watching as the creature moved in his sleep. Probably dreamt of something.

"We should go back now, the sun is setting." Rotxo nodded and you both stepped back and followed the way to the village. The walk was quiet, none of you talked. It was always comfortable with him, even if you rarely talked.

"Woah, careful there!" Before you could kiss the ground, Rotxo held you by the waist to prevent your fall. Damn, always these stupid stones on the way.

Realizing the position you were in, you immediately stood up straight and waved his hands from your body. You felt blood rush to your cheeks out of embarrassment. Rotxo coughed a little bit, hiding his face behind his arm.

"Sorry, I wasn't caref-", "NO! No, it was my fault..." he did it again. Always blaming himself to save you from discomfort. You found it weird, he always did that. But just with you, never with any of your siblings.

"Um, now that I think about... there's actually something I need to tell you.."

You always hated it when someone said this. It was mostly always bad, so you prepared yourself for bad news.

"Go on." Rotxo cleared his throat, before he took your hands in his. The gesture made your heart stop a beat, but you tried not to show how nervous you were.

"So... I wanted to tell you this for a while now," listening carefully, you mindlessly began to play with his fingers.

"Uhh, I like you. Like, like like you! I know, it sounds weird but-" "I like you too." You interrupted the boy, who glanced up at you in surprise.

"Wait, really?!" You nodded and pulled him closer, to kiss him on the cheek. When you made some distance between you, you could see the big smile that spread on his face.

"W-wow, I've never met someone like you before, you know. You're very special to me." Rotxo confessed.

It made your heart flutter.

©2023, vkt0r

#╴ᨒ viktors avatar imagines #rotxo #avatar #xreader #rotxo x reader #avatar rotxo #avatar rotxo x reader #avatar x reader #fluff #confession #rotxo fluff #reader #metkayina #vkt0r #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #atwow #atwow x reader #atwow imagines

[heterotragedies]

( 505 ) 001 | 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11.5k

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: artist hongjoong + trust fund baby female reader

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, brat taming, body writing, orgasm control, age gap (5-6 years), petnames (doll & baby)

𝐞𝐱𝐭: first installment of 505! based on @atzsslut's kink headcanon.

𝟓𝟎𝟓 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭

.˚ ₍🗒₎ ꒰ © 𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 ꒱

“The Dragonfly” at The Modern Art Museum

 11 West 53 Street, Manhattan

July 15 & 16, 10:30 am to 5:30 pm

You read off the invitation letter that found its way into your mailbox a month ago. 

That day you were sitting on your kitchen island, the stone cold against the bare skin of your thighs. But the feeling was welcomed nonetheless; it provided some sort of relief to the stinging strain of your thigh muscles. 

“Babe!” Hongjoong called, his slippers slapping against the floorboards as he skitters down the direction of the kitchen.

Your lover slips his crumpled shirt off his shoulders and onto the ground. He put that button up shirt on haphazardly earlier on his way to get the mail– didn’t even bother to close it, opting to walk out the door with fresh red and purple flowers blooming from his neck down to his chest.

He stands in between your legs and steals the tall glass of apple juice from your hands in exchange for the black envelope he pulled out from your mailbox . You spot gold text at the back of the square that reads ‘MoMA’ and your eyes immediately snap to his own excited ones.

A month later you’re sitting on a luxurious hotel bed, surrounded by gigantic pillows and burrowed in the downy soaked duvet. The parchment sits in front of you, stark ink elegantly curling and curving to form words. 

An incense burned on the table across you, the smoke wafting up and disappearing before reaching the high ceilings of the suite. The room smells of Japanese roses, Hongjoong’s favourite scent because it’s the same scent he met you with. Your favourite was white sage, because it reminds you of your lover: bright, refreshing and comforting. 

A mirror sits on the wall above the table and you stare at your reflection. Barely dressed, full face of makeup, and hair tousled into a mess. Beautiful, Hongjoong would say. You’d agree with him, you are beautiful. Especially with the way your makeup was done, deep red eyeshadow smudged under your eyes, extended out into a sharp wing and a sweet romantic gloss over your lips. 

Yet, you were troubled. Gnawing on your painted lips, you were gorgeously troubled. Laid out in front of you are two stunning dresses. 

To your right was a fern green silk dress. One you bought just yesterday, forcing the cab to stop and rushing out when you spotted it displayed in a boutique. It’s backless, strappy and glossy, everything that gets your gears turning in a dress. The ribbons would criss and cross over your back, tight and soft against your skin. It was long, draping down to your shins with a risque slit cutting down from your left hip. Yes, hip. The band of your thong would have no choice but to peek out if you chose to wear it. 

Now, on your left is a little black dress that hugged your curves oh so addictingly. When you first put it on, Hongjoong was mesmerised. His fingers were drawn to your waist as if they were opposite poles of a magnet. The black cloque ended right where your thighs began. The smallest move would flash your ass out to the crowd. Just how you like it. A gold chain belt would wrap loosely on your waist, cinched and catching the eyes of whoever dared to look. 

Another important thing to note was that Honjoong chose this dress for today. He dragged you out shopping and spent nearly hours touring the city square in search of the best suit and dress for this event. And the best they were indeed. A perfect match for each other yet both so unique in their own ways.

But of course, to your overtly idiosyncratic boyfriend they ‘didn’t scratch his itch’, he said for lack of a better term. 

So the first week was spent measuring your bodies, each fraction of an inch counted. The second was for finding the problems of the pieces. Week three was what you called ‘trial and error’; every single day you’d be ushered into a studio to make the tiniest adjustments on your dress. Putting it on and slipping it off nearly eight times a day. 

And it was on the fourth week when Hongjoong got the call from the tailors confirming that your outfits were done. When asked if any of that was necessary, he turned to you and firmly said something akin to ‘of course’. 

“Because, there’s no one like you, no one like me. No one like us.”

“You’re not yet dressed?” 

There’s the man of the hour. Stepping out of the bathroom, Hongjoong holds the towel on his waist, his hair sopping wet and dribbling. Drip, drip, dripping water all over the carpet. You hate it. The droplets making home on the carpet where they aren’t supposed to be. The annoying circular spots of wetness you’ll step on by chance. And with one glare from you, your boyfriend walks back inside the bathroom to retrieve another towel.

“You look beautiful by the way.” 

Oh what a sight. Hongjoong bare from the waist up, his skin glistening with water and his bicep flexing with every time he scrubs the towel on his head. The tattoo on his arm catches your eye as it always does. 

‘NO1LIKEME’

Inked on his bicep in gothic lettering. So like him, eccentric and unlike any other. He isn’t afraid to be bold or express himself. Be colourful, be loud, or take up space. And you love him. Every single aspect of him. You’d even kiss his personality if you could. But you couldn’t, and there’s something so upsetting about not being able to lay your love on all of him. How your most favourite part of him was something you couldn’t physically come in contact with. It’s maddening. 

“Thank you.” You throw him a simple smile, his favourite.

Actually… everything about you is his favourite. The way you bite your nails when you bid a high price on a set of rubies that you’ll probably only wear once (you won the bid, and he was right, you only wore it once because it didn’t ‘fit your aesthetic’). Or your tipsy walk where you keep your head down and focus on walking in a straight line, chanting ‘don’t look drunk’ out loud when you think you’re only saying it in your mind.

The point is, you love each other, so much it’s near overwhelming.

You also love Hongjoong’s ass (and Hongjoong, yours). So can you really be blamed for whistling at him when he drops the towel on the ground? His plump rear just out for you to ogle. 

“Marvellous.”

“I’d highly appreciate it if you don’t whisper like that while looking at my ass.”

He throws you a playful glare and grabs his underwear from the dresser to block his precious buns from your predatory gaze.

“Really? When you have an ass like Perseus?”

“Never say that again.”

“Why not? Perseus had an ass that clapped like thunder.”

Your lover pauses, mind halting at the words that tumbled oh so casually off your lips. Sometimes Hongjoong forgets he’s almost ten years older than you– ‘eight years!’ you’d always correct him. 

He met you at one of his exhibitions two years ago. You were blooming with youth and staring in awe at his most recent piece. He watched you from the second storey of the gallery, scuttling around looking for the manager. Making sharp turns and circling the entire floor almost five times, Hongjoong wondered what you needed that urgently to be racing around at that pace. 

Sure it was entertaining– watching you click clack across the halls like a little mouse and he was a hawk, but he saw you whip dangerously close to his stained glass sculpture and he felt his heart fall to his ass. So he had to intervene.

You wanted to buy his painting and fought tooth and nail with the artist himself to grab it off the wall and put it on yours. Hongjoong liked that. Your vigour and strongheaded-ness. Somehow along the process of commissioning a painting from him, you two ended up going on dates and giving each other little trinkets of affection. 

Your relationship was not odd, not at all. But there have been people who questioned you two. Of course, Hongjoong looked nothing like his age, it seemed as if he was barely over twenty-five. However, once thirty-three escapes his lips, all eyes suddenly turn to you with one question in mind.

“Is he your sugar daddy?”

The idea was just the farthest thing from the truth. In fact, you were even richer than him when you first met. He has never in his life met anyone who was more willing to write him a cheque for thirty-six million won for a partially dry painting. It all made sense later when he found out you were a trust fund baby. With your father owning several hospitals and mother being the president of a mobile network company. That near forty million didn’t even make a dent in your bank account.

“Please just get dressed.” he sighs.

You don’t respond. 

Odd, Hongjoong thought, you were never quiet. He turns to look at you and you’re already staring back with a pout and glittery eyes. 

He knows that look. You first gave it to him when you asked about taking home his painting. And again on your first date where he ended up on your bed and you held his wrist to make him stay. One more time just yesterday when you stood in front of the boutique window, practically kneeling and asking if you could get the dress.

You want something.

“What?” 

Your arm slithers out of the duvet cocoon you’re wrapped up in and draws circles on the silk dress splayed in front of you.

“Can I wear this?” 

You stare at his half naked form, gaze switching from him to the clothing rack behind him. Where his newly ironed, black and gold suit hung. His blazer was dark as a starless night sky, hung from the iron rod, the structure a perfect fit for your lover. Across the black fabric was a splatter of gold to match his cincher belt decorated with golden petunias and vines moulded out of wire and metal sheets. 

The ideal pair to your dress. Which is why Hongjoong’s confused. Did you no longer want to match with him? What’s wrong with the dress he got you? DId you not like it? How is a basic factory made dress better than the dress he got tailored to fit only you? He doesn’t get you sometimes, and this time was one of them.

“What’s wrong with the black one?”

“Nothing! I just wanna wear the green one right now.”

“You said that’s for our anniversary.”

You did say that, but your anniversary was still a couple months away. How could you stay away from the tempting silk of the dress? It’s impossible! Just leaving the dress to collect dust in your closet (which to be fair is what most of your dresses do since you only wear them once), you can’t handle it.

“But it’s so pretty, Hongie.”

There it is, stage two of your ‘get-whatever-i-want’ action plan. First was the eyes, and then came the nickname. It’s adorable, don’t misunderstand. Hongjoong loves it when you call him that; it makes him weak and flutter. But that’s the farthest thing from being ideal right now.

“The dress is pretty too! We got it tailored for a month, baby.” 

He walks towards where you sat, wrapping his arms around your bundled self. Just two barely dressed lovers embracing one another, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I know but…”

“It’s a perfect match for my suit, baby.”

His hands are firm on your shoulders and his eyes mirror yours. Furrowed brows and sparkling against the sunlight that pours through the large windows. But you were much more headstrong than your boyfriend when puppy eyes are involved.

“We can always match later!”

“Well, you can always wear that dress later! On our anniversary.”

The more you think about it, the farther your anniversary seems. First it felt like eight weeks, then it turned to three months. Now, it seems as if you’re gonna have to wait for a whole year to wear the dress. What other opportunities will you have to wear it? 

Hongjoong could give you many opportunities. Such as:

Your anniversary (obviously)

Your mom’s annual company party 

Your dad’s annual company party

The exhibition events he has about three times a year

And many many more.

“Fine, then! I’m not going.”

Hongjoong freezes. Really? You’re gonna give him attitude even in New York?

Stage three of how you get what you want: rebel. In simpler terms, this strategy you mastered is called bratiness. Oh and does Hongjoong hate brats. Can’t stand them thinking they’re in control. 

So he sighs, trying to gain his composure because the event is about an hour away. And he knows putting you back in place requires several hours. You’re one tough nut to crack… Or maybe he’s the one who takes his time to crack you.

“But we flew all the way to New York for this, baby.”

“But look at it, Hongie!”

Hongjoong watches you pull up the dress, the silk dangling from your fingers. The duvet around your shoulders slips off and reveals more of your skin to him. Soft and smooth to the touch. God, he wants to run his fingers across it, maybe even scribble his name on your shoulder.

“I know, love. But we planned this for months. It’d just be a waste if you don’t wear it.”

You grumble about your lover being stuck up because he isn’t giving you freedom. Of course Hongjoong heard it, and you can bet your bottom dollar it pissed him off even more. His inner stove dial is slowly turning higher and his blood starts boiling even hotter.

“Come on, baby. Listen to me just this once?” 

“No.”

You  throw the blanket off yourself and stomp to the vanity, wanting to wipe all your makeup off. Crazy, really, because you spent nearly two hours putting on your face. Woke up at four am to get ready, and showered in the blistering cold. 

Just like Cassie Howards in that popular show, ‘Euphoria’. Hongjoong walked in on you the day you were watching the second season’s finale and he threw you the oddest glance upon seeing various men in flesh coloured tights dry humping each other to the beat. What a strange show, he thought.

“Don’t be like that, y/n.”

His voice was stern, it shook your core. But if Hongjoong thinks that lowering his voice an octave was gonna make you waver (he didn’t, he was just hoping it would today) he was wrong. So wrong. Even after he got up and grasped your wrist, you still tried to charge forward.

“Please, y/n! You can wear the dress later in the afternoon!”

“No!”

His grip loosens and you start digging around for your micellar water. The bottle was lodged deep inside your makeup suitcase, underneath the piles of palettes and cream tubes. Were any of these necessary? Probably not, you only needed around two palettes, three if you were feeling adventurous, but the voice in your head told you to bring it all. So your Louis Vuitton suitcase was filled with a drawer’s worth of cosmetic products.

“Even after yesterday?.” 

“Most especially after yesterday! Did you think I’m not gonna wear the most stunning dress to ever exist?”

“What about the one I got you?!”

“This isn’t about that!”

Your lover stares at you crouching down in search of the bottle and the pack of cotton pads with a gaze so sharp and heavy. You ignore it, no matter how heavy it felt and how hot it made your skin. You were on a mission. That dress… you’re wearing it today. You’d rather die than not.

“That’s how it’s going to be, huh.” 

Just when you finally spotted the gold cap of your makeup remover, Hongjoong stands with his fists balled up by his sides. He was hot, both figuratively and literally. Every inch of his body was searing with fury. A couple hours won’t hurt right? No one will probably notice his absence.

“You know what? Fine! Wear the stupid fucking dress, whatever.” 

You whip your head back, eyes bright and happy. But that soon simmered down when you saw the look on his face. Red in the face with an apoplectic flush. Fucking sexy. 

You squeal a little cheer, ignoring his angry gaze. You pick the dress off the mattress with a triumphant smirk on your lips. You always get what you want. 

Once you slip the dress on, you turn to Hongjoong who hasn’t said a word since then. Instead he stood motionless, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The green fabric hangs on your shoulders, shapelessly draping over your curves.

“What are you waiting for? Get dressed, babe.” 

You shuffle onto the bed to grab the gold chain link necklace haphazardly thrown in between the hotel’s decorative pillows. Honestly, you probably would have forgotten about it if you argued a second longer. Oh well, it would have been a pleasant treat to the next tenants, because who wouldn’t want a twenty-four karat gold necklace? 

Your fingers just about brushed against the cool metal when your face was shoved into the mattress. A hand (unmistakably Hongjoong’s) roughly grips at your neck, and stars blur your dark vision. 

“You wanna wear that dress so bad? Then wear it while I fuck the brat out of you.” 

Your lover redirects his grip onto your hips, pulling up while keeping your torso down. And, boy, does Hongjoong think about how delectable you look right now. He could just eat you up and you wouldn’t do a thing. Maybe he should eat you out right now… Or not.

The green fabric gets flipped up and over your ass, exposing you black thong and Hongjoong scoffs. This would have been a glorious pair to your black dress. You wouldn’t even let him have his way for one day? On this day of all days? 

“Hongjoong! The party!”

It’s baffling how you have the gal to even say that right after the scene you started. And it’s so funny to Hongjoong, downright hilarious. Oh he’s about to die laughing…

Well, that’s what you hoped. All you ever wanted was to tilt your boyfriend slightly over the edge just so he’d let you wear the dress. You didn’t mean to let his anger boil over like pasta cooking in a pot filled to the brim (side note: you only came to this analogy because Hongjoong himself has been subjected to such a predicament– by himself nonetheless, but that’s besides the matter!)

“Oh now you care about the party?”

It seems Hongjoong was not in a silly goofy mood like you, judging by his searing glare melting through your skin. Hot. But you’re not entirely sure if you’re scared or horny.

“I thought you only wanted to wear this stupid dress.”

He grips at the seam and tears a slit on the mirroring side of the dress all the while cursing at your dress. His hands, calloused from years of sculpting and endless painting, crumples the green silken bust down below your bralette and they start to knead. As if your breasts were the clay he mastered into creating heaven sent sculptures with. 

“I thought this covered too much skin anyway.” Your lover mutters to himself, yet the room was quiet enough for you to hear.

Pleased, Hongjoong rubs his palms across your back. When you go quiet, it means you’re near submission, slowly melting into putty for his hands to play with; mould you into every shape he can think of. It is rather early for you to be in this state already, but you don’t hear Hongjoong complaining about it. Maybe you would finish earlier than he expected.

With your face pressed into the sheets and your ass up in the air, there's no denying this feat of dominance Hongjoong is currently displaying is making you wet. As soaked as a kid fresh out the pool and running across your carpet. Too scared to even say a word, you focus on levelling your breath and listening for any movement from the man behind you. 

The room fills up with a tense silence while you wait for Hongjoong’s next move, not daring to turn your head because you know what’ll follow if you do. “Did I say you could move?” He would hiss with his voice at a spine chilling tone. And god would it make you so wet.

When a cold palm runs down your back, you flinch. Hongjoong’s eyes study the ribbon that laces across the smooth expanse of your back. Too little skin, he thinks; and he starts to pull each ribbon through the loops, starting from the bottom where the ends hang loosely. When he’s done, he sits back on his heels and contemplates what to do next. 

“You’ve been acting spoiled since we landed here, doll. Wanna tell me why?”

No response. Hongjoong expected that much, especially with the way you were so focused on breathing right now. He can tell you want him so bad. He can see it in the flush of your skin and the twitch of your fingers against the pristine white sheets. Oh what a shame, the said sheets would be ruined soon.

“We came all the way for this, baby. And now we won’t be able to make it to the first day because of you. Because you’ve been a fucking brat.”

Your boyfriend gathers both your arms behind you and you yelp when you feel the ribbons wrap your wrists together. Your body gets flipped over on the plush mattress, bouncing slightly at the force. Your arms are restricted behind your back, pressed against the silken sheets and your, now, bare back.

“That’s okay, we’ll just go tomorrow.”

Hongjoong mutters mindlessly, to no one in particular since he’s much too occupied with the visual you present him: chest heaving as you breathe, hair splayed out on the pillows in swirls and curls, and your eyes– oh your eyes. They were almost doll-like with the way they’re glossed over with unshed tears and dilated pupils.

“You’re so gorgeous, doll.” And he dives in.

His lips first attach to the juncture of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses onto your skin and then moving up to your jaw. His hands flutter over your sides, the phantom of his touch burning your skin from under the silk. Hongjoong’s fingers brush over every curve they come across, as if they don’t have the planes of your body memorized after two years of exploration. 

But here’s the thing about Hongjoong, he will never settle. He’s dynamic and he knows you are too. Whenever he’s intimate with you, he just wants to overwrite each note he’s made in the past because you’re always changing, growing to be more beautiful than the last. He wants to see the way you change with him, the way you grow with him.

His fingers tickle the skin of your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The feeling makes tingles shoot up your spine, and heat up your body. His lips kiss and peck at your jaw, noisily moaning in your ear about how he just loves the taste of your skin, how it’s so addicting, and only he can have it. 

At some point, Hongjoong’s hands find themselves nestled underneath your thighs, groping and massaging the plush fat that he loves to bury his face into. He lifts your thighs and hooks them around his waist, pulling you closer to him. His clothed cock makes contact with your soaked panties and Hongjoong swears he might just explode. Your cunt was for sure sopping wet by now, and so so warm for him. 

Your body jerks up the bed when your lover grinds against your core. An electric zing flashes in your chest and flies through your veins, your eyes widening while holding Hongjoong’s fierce gaze. And he smirks when you yelp after he repeats the action. 

“Hi baby.” 

You had been silent for the past few minutes, so the noise was welcomed by Hongjoong, reassuring him that you’re still present. 

He continues grinding against your core until you're shaking like a leaf. Each brush of his cock over your clit makes your thighs tense in his grip. Truthfully, it makes him giddy. Feeling your body shiver with his touch, hearing you whimper out something akin to his name. Oh it gets his gears going, makes his cock stand taller and harder. 

And you’re at his mercy, lying there and taking each rub of his cock on you. Your fingers twitch with arousal and itching to thread into his split dyed hair, You want to tug on them, tell him you want to cum, make him do something about it.

“I didn’t expect you to go quiet at this point, doll.” 

Hongjoong pulls his hips away from yours and you have half the mind to complain, until he runs a finger up and down your slit. Your back arches up to him like a sunflower to the sun. Automatically drawn up to him because it’s him who’s giving you pleasure. He is your sun showering you with the warmth of his sunlight.

“Usually you’d run your mouth until you get my cock in your cunt,” he continues his condescending dialogue.

This time, Hongjoong’s middle finger pushes harshly into your clit; which forces your knees to dig deeper into his sides and a squeak to escape from your lips. He likes it, your reaction. It’s just what he wanted: you reacting to each and every little move he does, he wants to see and hear you react whenever his skin meets yours. So he brings his hand back to slap at your clothed pussy once.

“What made you change your mind?”

As per your usual, pathetic self, you had no answer to give to your lover. Instead, your brows had furrowed and your lips now hung open in a silent moan, eyes still stuck on Hongjoong’s. Mesmerized in the way his irises drink in the look on your face; you know it drives him mad when your face scrunches up in pleasure, it’s one of the things he looks forward to. 

As for you, you always look forward to having Hongjoong’s fingers lodged deep inside you; and he knows. He revels in the knowledge of it, in fact. Something about the way you suck his fingers in and try to hold him in with your thighs just gets him hotter. The warmth of your pussy around his nimble fingers and the feeling of your arousal running down his wrist. It’s all too addicting to him, dangerous for him to even have unlimited access to it. 

And thus, when Hongjoong finally pulls your thong to the side and slides his finger over your cunt it is him who moans. A deep, airy one coming from his chest, like it had been brewing inside him for days. He loves it, loves how it soaks the pads of his fingers immediately. Loves how they coat his skin and leave him all warm and sticky.

You whine when the tips of his fingers finally breach your entrance. The rough pads of his skin rub against your walls and you manage to hold back a yelp at the feeling. Your partner pulls out his finger to make room for another one. His middle finger and ring finger, glued to one another, slowly pushes through your cunt.

The stretch barely stings, but you feel the intrusion. His fingers reach the exact spot that you need him, brushing his fingers against your walls with ease. Your head drops back onto the plush hotel bedding, and Hogjoong keeps an eye at the way you react. 

He watches your chest heave up every time he pulls his fingers out and jump when he slams them back into you. Your shoulders are tense and stiff from holding your weight, but he can see that they’re doing their best to support you as you start to grind into his hand.

Your legs slide off from Hongjoong’s sides and plant on the bed, helping you rock your hips forward in search of friction on your clit. You don’t really need Hongjoong to touch your clit for you to cum, but you wouldn’t mind if he did right now. Especially considering how you’re restrained as of currently. He should at least compensate right? You are his lovely girlfriend and all…

Lovely or not, Hongjoong still refuses to acknowledge your actions. In fact, he even tries to hold your hips down with a strong hand. Because, have you forgotten? You had been a brat all morning. If you had only listened to him, you’d be enjoying the art exhibit across the street. 

A quick glance at the fancy digital clock on one of the bedside tables tells him that it’s nearly eleven. The exhibit had probably opened thirty minutes ago. By then he’d probably have loads of pictures of you in your stunning black dress, admiring all the paintings and sculptures. And then after circling the room once, he’d drag you back to your hotel room to fuck you senseless and reward you for being such a beautiful doll for him. 

Too bad you had other plans in mind. 

Hongjoong’s fingers stopped mid pump and you whip your head up to glare at him. You have the nerve to look at him in such a way when you’re the one at his mercy. He could just leave you unfinished and tied up and go to the museum himself. He had every right to do that to you after talking back to him and being a brat.

Why won’t he do exactly that?

Because he can’t bring himself to. Even with your eyes glaring at him, he can still see the way they glitter under the lights with need. A need for him, and his fingers. His tongue. His cock. Everything.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun with you. 

A loud indignant whine leaves your lips when Hongjoong fully pulls out. His eyes linger on his fingers and the string of your slick that stretches in between his fingers. Hypnotizing, really, but he has no time to be drawn into the sight. He’s snapped back when you squeeze your thighs around him, silently pleading for him to fuck you with his fingers. Properly this time, not just the lazy in-out in-out he’s been playing with. No. You want him to make you cum and cry.

“You wanna cum on my fingers, baby?” 

Hongjoong’s voice was gruff, lowered down an octave, and it rang in your ears. You give him a pitiful nod along with another round of your best puppy eyes. Something to help convince him to give you what you want today.

But all your lover does is laugh inwardly at your poorly done beg. Instead, he humours you.

His fingers slip back into your wet cunt and begin to pump at a slow pace. One that’s too slow for your liking, but what can you do? You’re the one who’s helpless with their hands tied behind your back. The only thing you’re able to do is whine, again.

All this time you’ve been whining and whining nonstop and it irritates Hongjoong even more. He needs something else to slip out of your pink glossed lips. 

“Fuck!”

You yelp when your boyfriend suddenly picks up the pace out of nowhere. Quickly thrusting his fingers into your pussy, rubbing against your warm walls and making your legs quiver. Your back arches upwards and your fingers grip at the sheets beneath you. 

Finally, the man sighs to himself. He’s gotten tired of your whining, he prefers listening to you moan out his name and dirty curses. He loves listening to the pitch of your voice raise as a result of his touches. 

He also loves listening to the sinful squelch of your juices around his fingers. You, on the other hand, find it embarrassing. Your cunt gushing because of two measly fingers? Were you that desperate? But you can’t help it. When his fingers brush up against that certain spot inside you, you can’t help but to clench around him again, leaking your fluids down onto the ruined sheets of the bed.

And– fuck! You’re close. So, so close. Your legs squeeze tighter against Hongjoong’s sturdy frame, hips trying (but failing) to grind up to his hand. God, if Hongjoong could just pinch your clit then you’d–

“You don’t get to cum, brat.” Hongjoong hisses as he pulls his fingers out of you. “Not until I say so.”

“What!?”

You crane your neck to look down at the smirking man who sits idly between your legs. Staring down at your wet core, clenching around nothing and exposed for his eyes to drink up. 

“From now on, you do as I say. Got it?” 

You were so close and he just ripped the orgasm away from you. How cruel! You glare up at him, and he returns your gaze with even more fire. You scan his face, from the way his eyes burn right into yours and the way his teeth sink into his lips. And when you don’t give him a response, he slaps your core once more.

“I said, got it?” He repeats, his voice dripping with venom and impatience. 

The impact makes you yelp and immediately attempt to shut your legs. But they fail to do so with Hongjoong in between. 

“G… got it.” You reply with a voice so meek you’d remind Hongjoong of a pitiful little mouse. 

Moving forward, your lover’s satisfied with your answer. It was the most obedient act you’ve done all day today! He grips your knees and forces your legs to stretch out a tad bit more. Making just enough space for him to lie on his front, face inches away from your aching core.

His breath puffs against your skin and the feeling makes you squirm. Although Hongjoong has gone down on you many a time, the thought of having him face to face with the most vulnerable part of your body still embarrasses you. 

When he licks a stripe up your slit, you jerk your hips back, pulling yourself away from his touch. Annoyed, Hongjoong wraps his arms around your hips and forcefully pulls you back to him. Bringing his tongue back to ghost over your lips. 

It hurts, the strain on your shoulders and your arms are beginning to grow numb under your weight. You want to move, to touch your lover, grip at his hair and tug. Guide him to where you want him the most, where you need him badly. 

But then he presses his tongue flat against your nub and all thoughts of the pain fly out of your head. All you can hear in your head is a sensual oh fuck, one that you voice out. And one that flies straight to Hongjoong’s hard cock. God, did he ever mention how much he loves your moans?

The split haired male tugs your hips closer to his face and proceeds to lap at your clit. Each stroke makes you quiver in his hold and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your wanton moans fills up the room and Hongjoong is surrounded by you. All he sees is your lust glazed eyes, and all he tastes is your warm, wet cunt. All his senses are taken over by you.

And you, him. All you can hear is the dirty slurping of Hongjoong’s lips on your pussy. And all you can feel is his hands on you, burning your skin under his touch and the knot in your stomach tightening once more. Calling– begging for release. 

The remaining sensitivity from before (from the orgasm Hongjoong so rudely kept from you!) brings you closer to another pending orgasm. Your chest burns white and hot, like a star burning to a supernova. 

The tongue previously flat on your clit, gave the nub one last lick before travelling down to your opening. It prods and pokes and does everything but breach your entrance. Hongjoong can only laugh at the way you're helplessly squirming in his grip. The vibrations running up to your body and shooting shocks of pleasure through you.

When your boyfriend’s tongue finally slips inside, you let out a moan of relief. Your head lolls to the right and your eyes flutter shut. Having Hongjoong inside you, whether it was his fingers, tongue, or cock, was always your favourite part. You loved how perfectly he fits into you. Like you were moulded after his person.

But Hongjoong would like to argue that it was him who was moulded to fit you. He was always such a romantic. 

“Baby…” was the next coherent word you let out.

Hongjoong hums in acknowledgement, his lips still pressed against your pussy and tongue still busy exploring inside. 

“Wanna– ah… touch.” 

“But, doll…” He pulls away and you have half the mind to complain. “Why should I let you touch me? You’ve been such a brat today.”

His tone was condescending. You heard his words perfectly, they were short and easy to understand even in your haze riddled mind. You can’t touch him because you don’t deserve it. You can’t touch him because you didn’t obey him and you deserve to be punished. He’s only doing this because he loves you, right? Yeah. He’s said that multiple times. But then again, wouldn’t you let him touch you because he loves you?”

“Answer me, baby. Why?”

A pause.

“Because you love me.”

And Hongjoong has to lean back on his heels because, wow, he’s never heard that one before. It makes him blush, honestly. And his heart flutters at your choice of words. However, he still has a front to put up. 

So he throws his head back with a grunt and pokes his teeth with his tongue. With a scoff, he shakes his head in disbelief and slowly brings his gaze back down at you.

“You’re right, baby. I do.” He crawls over you and plants his hands beside your head.

Now he’s hovering over your form, face a mere couple of inches above yours. Your legs shift to wrap one around his waist. Your calf snags on the band of his trousers and that’s when you realize that Hongjoong’s still half dressed. His pants hang loosely around his hips with the button and zipper undone. You can see the elastic of his briefs and the faint outline of his abs accentuated by the happy trail that disappears into his underwear.

“But then if I let you go…” His fingers trace the features of your pretty face. From the slope of your nose to the bow of your lips. “What if you act out again and go back to being a brat?”

You shake your head furiously, desperate to just move along and get to the part where he fucks you stupid!

“I won’t! I-I promise.”

“How do I know you won’t break that promise.”

“Because I love you! I won’t break it, I swear!”

Hongjoong smirks. He likes the direction this conversation is going. 

“You do baby?” And when you nod, he continues. “Only me?”

Now he’s leaned his face closer to yours, lips barely ghosting over one another as a low chuckle leaves him. His eyes bore into yours like they always do. His deep, dark irises are glittered with gold and his pupils are dilated. It makes it hard to look away when he has such beautiful eyes and long lashes. 

“I do! I promise I love you and only you!”

Your boyfriend’s smirk widens and he gives your lips a soft peck before pulling away to reach for something above your head. You watch as his body stretches and his muscles tense. You just want to run your fingers all over him. Feel his skin against yours, trace every curve and every edge he was given. 

“So you wouldn't mind if I did this right?”

He comes back to your view with something in his hand. The diamond encrusted gold casing shines in the sunlight that streams through the large windows of the room. You immediately recognize your Guerlain lipstick (one you had also tossed on the bed earlier in the morning) and furrow your brows in confusion. What does your boyfriend want with your lipstick?

He moves to place his legs on either side of your hips and balances his body over yours. Back arching down to bring his face closer to your collarbones. His hands work open the lipstick and he starts to write on your skin. The rich red colours pop against your complexion and it’s mouth watering how beautiful the colour makes you. 

‘HJ’

He scribbles his initials under your left clavicle and he smiles when he follows it with a little heart. Because you love him, right? 

“Because you’re mine.” 

You knew what he was writing, the downward strokes and curved lines made it so obvious. It wasn’t like it was the first time he did this, no this was about the second time(?) he’s possessively written his name on your skin, if you remember correctly.

The first time was when you went to a bar on a particularly busy weekend. You had dressed up in your favourite little black dress of the week. The Damien black mini dress from AKNA– yes the one Maddy Perez wore in euphoria (Hongjoong swears it’s such an odd show). And some random dude decided to sit right next to you and offer to buy you a drink. Even with you practically hanging off of Hongjoong’s arm.

That night he ruined one of your felt tip eyeliner pens with how much he scribbled his name and the word ‘mine’ all over your body.

But back to the present.

Hongjoong’s now scribbling his full name– last name and all– onto your right shoulder. Muttering something along the lines of ‘to remind you of who you belong to’ and ‘remind you of who to obey’. He writes and doodles and scratches on and on until your chest is covered in many variations of his name, ‘mine’, little hearts, and tiny flowers. 

“And because you love me so much.”

He smiles to himself and admires his work. Oh how he wishes he could frame this right now. Keep it in your shared bedroom to remember this forever. But he can’t frame you, that’d be cruel. Maybe he’d snap a picture later when you're done and paint it on a giant canvas (he’s thinking of even painting it on one of your walls).

A small chuckle escaped his lips when he saw your expression. Flushed in embarrassment and arousal with your brows furrowed and lip in between your teeth. You look gorgeous. 

His eyes trail down to the scrunched up silk the rests under your breasts. That wretched dress… even though Hongjoong semi-hated the dress, he can’t deny how well it complements the red of the lipstick against your skin. Fuck, he really hopes he can properly recreate this image on a canvas.

Your skin burns when Hongjoong grabs the dress to pull it lower down your body, exposing your midriff to the cool air of the room. And your lover starts to write once more. But this time the sweet little hearts are replaced with nastier words. First it started with brat, but as he got lower they escalated to slut and such. Don’t misunderstand, he still scrawled down a couple ‘mine’s here and there and a little bit more of his initials.

“The dirty fucking slut only loves me right?” He mutters as he carefully dots his ‘i’s and crosses his ‘t’s. “I’m the only one for you because no one else can fucking handle a spoiled brat like you.”

And it’s true. He knows it, you know it. So what’s the point in denying? 

You sit there and accept your fate. Let Hongjoong have his little possessive streak without complaint. You do like the feeling of him drawing across your skin even if it’s at the expense of one of your favourite lipsticks. But that’s alright, you could always refill it at the Bergdorf Goodman downtown. You’ve been itching to visit since you landed here. You’ll have to book an appointment for tomorrow, though… and if they don’t have a free slot, then you’ll just throw a couple hundred dollars their way and for sure they’ll give you a refill.

“Do you like it, baby?” Hongjoong asks, finally rising from his bent over position.

And you nod, “I love it, Hongie.”

Now, with most of his pent up frustrations released (and your lipstick used to a blunt), Hongjoong decides that he should probably untie your arms. 

You could practically cheer when you can finally move your arms, the blood rushing back to the numbing tips of your fingers. And the first thing you do is cup your lover’s face, rubbing your thumb against his cheek. 

Your hands pull the man down onto your lips; meeting in a heated kiss filled with passion, teeth, and tongue. His tongue traces around the edge of your glossed lips, taking some of the peach flavour cosmetic for himself. His lips slot against yours perfectly, dancing with each other in a symphony of your pants and the chirping birds outside. 

The kiss deepens with every second that passes and Hongjoong presses more and more into you. Sucking you in like a lost astronaut into a black hole. Neither of you want to break away, not when it’s getting so good. But stupid human bodies and their need for oxygen is what finally parts you two. 

Hongjoong’s forehead leans against yours and your breaths mix with how you pant in sync. 

“Fuck, doll.” 

He can’t take it. He’s been hard for the past hour and he hasn’t done anything to even relieve himself. Why was he giving himself blue balls? Hongjoong doesn’t know. All he knows is screw the stupid punishment, he needs to fuck your pussy right now.

His hands hurriedly yank down his trousers and toss them onto the carpet along with his briefs. The thought of having it dry cleaned and steam pressed again passes his mind briefly but he does not give a fuck right now. The only thing in his mind is you, his cock, your cunt, and cum.

His dick stands tall and proud, blunt head swollen and red and dripping with precum. Your mouth waters at the sight and it takes you no less than a second to reach down and brush your fingers over him. His skin is warm, slightly sticky and wet. His slick coats your palms when you finally wrap a hand around him. 

A curse flies out of Hongjoong’s pink-kissed lips when you squeeze him tighter. His lips fall open and his hair falls to curtain over his eyes. Yet through his blonde and black tresses, you’re still able to make out the flicker of lust mixed into his irises and it’s what makes you whimper and clench your core around nothing. A simple gaze from your lover would have you shivering and shaking like a leaf in September, just how you would prefer. 

Hongjoong, however, would prefer if you got your hands off him right now because he feels like he’s about to burst. He needs to be inside you at this instant.

So he gently flicks your hand away from his erection to replace it with his own. After a couple pumps on his own shaft, he aligns the head of his cock to your pulsing entrance. And with a quick glance up at you for reassurance, he begins to press into you. 

You love it. The feeling of him carefully sinking into you slowly, making you feel every square inch of his skin. The pleasurable stretch his girth gives you. The way his cock brushes up against that spot inside you has you reeling and your toes curling.

He loves it. When you pulse around and suck him even deeper, it leaves him bewitched and breathless. The feeling of your cunt fully surrounding him is hot and wet and it makes his skin tingle and stomach churn. The sinful squelch that fills up the room as he bottoms out inside you fills his heart up with a dirty glee that he knows only you can give.

Now with Hongjoong fully inside you, it’s almost as if time stops. Like the world stops rotating and the clouds stand stagnant against the clear blue sky. Nature falls quiet, no tree’s rustling in the wind or birds singing their happy melodies.

Nothing.

When Hongjoong sits still with his cock deep inside of you, nothing matters other than him. 

Your lover likes to say that he takes his time with you in the beginning to help you prep, but you know he’s always lying. He likes to sit there and let you feel the weight of him inside you to tease you. Get you to the point where you’re begging for him to move. Because, face it, Hongjoong never rushes foreplay and will always prep you hours before slipping into you. He has fucked you countless times throughout the years to know that you’re fine by now. 

Yet he just sits and stares. 

But there’s something that you don’t know, possibly because you're too dazed to look deeper into his eyes. What you don’t know is that behind Hongjoong’s teasing smirk and calm facade, is a panicked man on the verge of climax. His hairline is beaded with sweat and he’s trying so hard to keep himself from just coming at the mere feeling of being inside you.

Pathetic, sure, some people might think. But put them in his shoes, and they’d feel absolutely the same. After an hour of just playing with his lovely girlfriend who has his name written all over her skin, what man would not explode at the sight? 

Your back was sticking onto the sheets that you’re laid on with your hair splayed out in different directions. Your skin, again, covered in lipstick (Hongjoong just loves it too much to stop thinking about it) and the mass of silk that could barely be identified as a dress scrunched up around your hips. Your nipples are noticeably pebbled from under your black lacy bra that perfectly matches with your black thong. The one that he has pushed to the side to make way for his cock that has you stretched open. 

“H-hongjoong…” You finally muster up the courage to speak and it snaps your lover out of his thoughts.

“Please.” It’s when you clench around him while looking up at him so helplessly does he finally snap. 

Fuck his pride. 

The first thrust that he drives into you is slow, testing out the waters. Not for your sake, but his. Then with every push his pace picks up, slowly building up to a much more satiating speed. The room fills up with the sound of skin against skin muddled with your voices panting and moaning for one another.

Each drag of his cock against your gummy walls has you reeling. Every wave of pleasure that washes over Hongjoong when you squeeze around his cock makes him falter. 

Your lover hooks an arm under your thigh to lift it over his shoulder, helping him reach deeper into you. And it rips a moan from your throat. The new angle just exposes the both of you to a whole new sensation of skin against skin. With your arms finally free, you get the opportunity to do what you’ve longed to do for a while now. Your fingers comb through Hongjoong’s dual coloured hair and twirl a couple locks around them. 

And then you tug. Not too much that it hurts, just enough to get a reaction from Hongjoong. Who furrows his brows at first but then a wide smirk flashes on his face. 

You’re not sure whether it’s a direct result from you pulling his hair, but Hongjoong’s pace quickens right after you do it. He pumps his cock harder into you, forcing you to jerk up towards the pillows above your head. To oppose this, your boyfriend wraps an arm around the thigh on his shoulder and uses it as leverage to hold you still. 

The new pace and force of his thrusts have you arching your back and rolling your eyes. Your lips remain opened in a silent moan, unable to produce anything but breathy whines and gasps. Your hands arbitrarily squeeze and pull against Hongjoong’s scalp to try and anchor yourself to reality. 

But Hongjoong knows how to work his cock. He knows what gets you going and what makes you unravel. He does exactly that. His fingers brush over the hood of your clit and your body just tenses. Your thighs start to shiver as a familiar feeling starts to bloom from your chest. It spreads all over your body and makes you mindlessly jerk your hips up towards his touch.

The fingers on your clit start to press harder against your nub as your partner’s thrust starts to get sloppy. They circle around your clit before starting to harshly swipe against it. And it sends you into a frenzy. Your moans get louder and louder with each rub against your nub and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

Hongjoong can tell that you’re close, from the pulsing of your cunt to the erratic gasps of his name, he knows those are sure signs of your orgasm. If this had been earlier in the day, he would have stopped right then and held you from another orgasm. But now as he thinks about it, edging you three times was enough, right? You deserve to cum, you are his lovely girlfriend after all.

“Wanna cum, baby?”

You nod, mindlessly nod at whatever he said because you can barely hear him through your own voice. Nothing in your mind but your lover’s cock and how good it’s making you feel. Your cunt squeezes around him again, once, twice, three times.

And Hongjoong pulls out. 

But before you can complain he shoves three fingers into your hole and curls them up to rub against the spongy spot in your walls. His other hand continues to roughly play with your clit and that is all that it takes for you to start cumming against his fingers. 

“That’s right, baby. Feels so good to cum on my fingers, yeah?”

You twitch and jerk at the intensity of your orgasm, the previous sensitivity still present which lead to your early finish. Not that you’re complaining though. Especially when you feel so satiated. Your hips irregularly jolt up as you come down from your high, your boyfriend’s fingers still nestled in you.

You silently thank the gods that you finally get to release. A whole hour of edging was just too much for you. Thank them for bringing Hongjoong to the conclusion that you deserved to cum.

In fact, Hongjoong now thinks that you probably deserve to cum again… and again. After all, he does love you very much and you to him, remember?

So when he slips back his cock into your sensitive hole, it shocks you. He sets a pace quicker than previous and it has you panicking. You’re still sensitive from the high you just had not even a minute ago and now Hongjoong’s back to rutting his dick into you? Is he out of his mind?

Yes. 

“H-hong!! Fuck– … t-too … too… sen-”

You try to gasp out but Hongjoong doesn't care. Now that he had a chance to collect himself (and he’s no longer on the verge of cumming), he decides that one orgasm wasn’t enough. His cock drives hard into your wet cunt and he relishes in your hysteric begging. Whining for him to stop or slow down. 

The bulbous tip of his cock prods at a deep spot inside of you and the feeling of him being so deep and pounding into you so roughly brings back the knot in your lower belly. You try and try to beg for him to slow down, give you a break or something. But your words fall to deaf ears.  

You squirm against the sweat soaked sheets, and try to run away from your lover's brutal pace. But Hongjoong chooses right then to slide his arms under your back to press himself flush against your chest, holding you still and unable to move away. Your skin burns against his, a delicious feeling welcomed by him. 

The lipstick stains of his name most definitely have smudged onto his skin but that doesn’t concern Hongjoong. He’s too occupied with how your eyes are brimmed with tears and your lips are parted to beg. You probably think you’re saying actual words, but all that leaves your mouth are incoherent vowels, not a single understandable word from your fucked out brain. 

You wrap your arms around his torso when you feel on the edge of another high, squeezing him closer to you like how your pussy convulses around his cock. In response, Hongjoong groans and throws his head back. 

By now the hotel room reeks of sex. If the sound of the bed creaking doesn’t make it obvious then the humid stench of cum and sweat will. Hongjoong spares a glance to where your bodies meet and he has to clench his jaw to keep himself from cumming. The sight of the slick from your gushing cunt connecting his hips to yours whenever he pulls away is one he treasures. Like your skin covered in lipstick, he’d like to recreate this one too. Keep it with him forever.

With a couple more thrusts, your body suddenly tenses again and you’re cumming for the second time. By then your orgasm is twice as strong as the previous one, and it leaves you shaking for a tad bit longer. Your legs twitch and you just now realize that you’re sobbing. The tears that once blurred your vision have now run down your cheeks. The red eyeshadow you had on was now smudged and beyond salvation. 

You’re weak, your limbs have now gone limp and you don’t think you can properly make up a sentence by now. You’re mind had been fucked to goo, nothing up in your head but an airy feeling that makes your heart flutter and skin tingle.

You look so peaceful.

But you can’t leave Hongjoong like this can you? High and dry with his balls filled with cum that’s specially for you?

You’re not that cruel right?

“One more, baby,”

Your eyes widen once more and you try to fight back from his arms that are scooping you up. But you’re too weak. You can’t push him away and the tiny tiny voice in your mind says “do you really want him to stop?”. Your mouth opens to say something (you don’t know what), but, again, you’re just too fucked out to form coherent sentences.

So you have no choice but to let Hongjoong slip back his hard cock into your abused pussy. His skin rubs against your raw walls and you’re not sure if you want him to stop. Because you’re exhausted, your body feels like jelly and you don’t want to move. However, no matter how tired you are, you can’t deny that it feels so fucking good. 

The friction against his skin and yours is driving you crazy. And when he shifts to lie on his back and pull you on top, you can’t help the loud whine of his name that escapes you when he hits a spot in you that’s deeper than before. 

“You can do one more, right? Be good for me, just this once?”

And you nod, even though you know you don’t have the energy to ride him right now. But that’s alright, Hongjoong doesn’t intend to make you ride him. Instead, he places a strong hand on the back of your head and guides you to rest in the crook of his neck. His palm strokes at your tangled hair that was once styled best to match today’s event, but now it’s a mess of tangled curls and stray strands. 

With his feet planted on the mattress, he wraps an arm around your waist and gives an experimental thrust up into your wet cunt. And you’re gone. Any and all thought you previously had of how tired you were was forgotten. In fact, you didn’t even feel anything but his cock in you. Not the tight hand gripping into your skin or the soothing fingers that comb through your hair the best they can. Just the sensation of his cock pulling out to the head before slamming back into you.

Hongjoong shifts his hold from your skin to your ass and he gropes the thick flesh of your ass. He especially likes the way your plump skin peeks through the gaps between his fingers. And the mindless moans that get louder with each squeeze he gives your behind. The constant convulsion of your pussy around his cock makes his knees buckle and hips falter. 

Fucking you is always an experience he can’t recreate because there’s just too many things that make it what it is. If he has his hand around his dick it wouldn’t feel right without you moaning in his ears or nails clawing at his skin. Or the tantalizing jiggle of your ass when he pounds into you. It would be incomplete if you weren’t physically present. Whether he’d have a picture of your ass on his phone or a memory of your pussy around his cock playing in his mind, neither would be able to compensate for the lack of your skin against his.

Everytime Hongjoong thrusts up at you, your hips follow. And when they fall to pull out, yours would follow once more. This descend added with the sudden plunge back of his entire cock into your cunt drives him deeper with every push. It makes you cry, drives you crazy, leaves you confused and in a daze, the pleasure.  

His hot rigid cock, lined with bumps and veins rubs in and out of your wet pussy. Paired with the sheer speed and power Hongjoong pours into each ram of his hips against yours, you’re left to be putty in his arms. A soggy puddle melting into his skin and becoming one with him. Your voice rings in his ears, echoing from the cave your face is tucked into, and it eggs him to pound harder into you.

You can’t help it, your walls start to flutter around him from the saturated pleasure he brings you and by now, you’re cumming. Hard. Your cunt squeezes his cock and milks him for all he’s got. Hongjoong loves it, the feeling of your pussy convulsing and gushing around him. He’d love to be able to bottle up the feeling and save it for another day. 

Your lover’s thrusts increase in speed as he gets closer to his climax and you’re still shaking in his hold. You continue to tremble in his arms with your toes curled and hips jerking erratically, grinding your clit on his pelvis. Each time the tip of his cock brushes up against your walls, they clamp back down on him and pour out more of your cum. It runs down Hongjoong’s shaft and creams around his base, if you weren’t so out of it right now, you’d be way too embarrassed to even face the man.

Hongjoong’s thrusts turn sloppy and unsteady, his hips would jolt whenever you clenched around him and the hand on your ass would twitch. He’s so close.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.”

He announces with his voice low and raspy and it makes your body tingle again. You want him to cum inside, feel his seed heat up your already hot and wet core. You want to feel his cum dripping down your thighs when you move. You want it all. And when Hongjoong lets out a final grunt, you brace yourself for the sensation. Lips hanging open and spilling vowels that resemble your lover’s name.

But instead, he throws you around back onto the mattress and shuffles to stand on his knees over you. His calloused hand grips his cock and you watch with glazed eyes as his angry red skin drips with his arousal mixed with yours. He pumps his shaft furiously while his thighs begin to shake and you listen to the little groans that leave his lips. 

“Fuck.” He whispers when he furrows his brows and his eyes flutter close.

Hongjoong came in spurts of three. The first one landing on your red stained chest, and the final two dripping into your dress (if you could still call it that) and staining the fabric for good. It’s almost as if he planned this…

Oh what a view.

Hongjoong kneeling over you with a flush on his skin and a sheen of sweat making him shine in the sunlight. His hair was tousled and sticking to his forehead, and his lips were bitten red. You watch as his dick goes limp with a few final drops of his cum falling onto your skin.

With your tangled hair and tear stained cheeks, Hongjoong revels in the after effects of him. The names he had written on your skin were now missing several letters that he’s sure are on his. The “Kim Hongjoong” that he’d written in all caps across your chest was missing an N and a couple O’s, and if he’d look down on his own, he’d see the letters smudged over his skin. 

The room is now quiet, the air is still and the smell of sex is still fresh. The two of you stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, processing what just happened and trying to regain consciousness. 

It’s Hongjoong who breaks the silence first, scooping you up in his arms and mumbling about going to the bathroom to clean up where he then sits you on the toilet and forces you to pee. He always reminds you to pee right after getting intimate, even if you said you didn’t need to. He’d just throw you over his shoulder and wait on the toilet until you eventually do need to. He’s so particular about aftercare and the looming threat of a UTI. Well, that’s just Hongjoong.

꒰♡꒱

“But, babe.” Hongjoong whines, his arms tired from carrying heavy shopping bags all afternoon.

After a certain someone tore up your dress and jizzed all over it, you decided to buy another. You threw Hongjoong into the car and brought him to the nearest Bergdorf Goodman right after the exhibit closed. Mumbling to him about how he owes you a lipstick refill and one new dress. Well not one, right now you had eight dresses in the bags, and you’re currently looking at another one. It’s similar to the green one you got the other day, but this one is glittery! 

“I’ll take it!” You smile to the kind saleslady who then orders a muscular man to take down the mannequin and bag up the dress for you.

You turn to your lover who sits on a velvet upholstered seat, and scowl at his pout. 

“This is because you tore up my favourite dress.” 

You lied. That dress wasn’t your favourite. How can it be when you just got the prettiest, most sexy garnet coloured mini dress five minutes ago?

“Now, come on, Hongie. I have to get my lipstick refilled.” You call right after you’re handed the bag with your most recent purchase.

And, without sparing your boyfriend a glance, you turn your heel and head towards Guerlain. Hongjoong doesn’t mind the action, at least you don’t catch him staring at your figure. Biting his lip, he trails his eyes down to the way your black dress curves over the plump of your ass and he licks at his teeth when he notices the sliver of black that flashes from underneath your dress and he has to adjust his trousers before he runs to your side. 

He walks beside you and listens to you talk on and on about a diamond lipstick case with his hands filled with shopping bags. Your heels click on the polished tile floors of the department store and your steps match with his. Just like how your black, custom made dress matches his black, custom made suit.

all rights reserved © heterotragedies 2021.

dividers and headers are drawn and designed by me.

please reblog if you enjoyed this! since tumblr works on a system of reblogs rather than likes, i would appreciate if you reblogged the content that you liked. thank you so much!

do NOT plagiarize or translate any of my works & thank you for reading.

#heterotragedies #505 #het.traj k.hj #| #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut

[moonlightmile12]

Good-Bye Britain Tour - March 1971

"While by all rights any account of the Rolling Stones on tour should begin with a detailed description of the whereabouts of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, the two central figures of this tale, both of them, as well as guitarist Mick Taylor, have missed the train.

Although the Stones cannot possibly go onstage tonight without them, no one seems particularly concerned about their absence. As it turns out, the two Micks will catch a later train and arrive in plenty of time for the show.

Mick Taylor on this tour still seemed incredibly shy and unsure of himself except when he was performing onstage.

Getting to her feet in the far corner of the room, a striking-looking young woman with a sharp-boned face, long red hair, glittering eyes, and pale, lightly freckled skin begins making her way toward the bar. Having given birth to Mick Taylor’s daughter Chloe just two months ago, she seems far more direct and outgoing than the newest member of the Rolling Stones as well as very much at home in the company of rock stars.

Though I knew none of this at the time, Rose Millar (whom everyone always called Rose Taylor even though she and Mick Taylor were not yet married) was also on her first tour with the Rolling Stones. Described by her younger brother Robin, who in time would himself become a well-known record producer, as having “always been wild from the age of fifteen” as well as “car-stoppingly gorgeous,” Rose had been expelled from the exclusive St. Paul’s Girls’ School in London. She had then gone to work in the editorial department of an advertising magazine while hanging out with rock stars like Peter Green of Fleetwood Mac, Georgie Fame, Long John Baldry, and Rod Stewart.

Giving up her job at Mick Taylor’s request after they had begun living together, Rose had met the Stones for the first time while they were recording Sticky Fingers. As she would later say, “I began going to the sessions at Olympic Studios and I couldn’t believe how rude they all were. To each other, really. I was used to bands who all got on well with one another but these people didn’t have the same camaraderie and would turn up whenever they felt like it. Mick Taylor seemed to be there all the time as did Charlie and Bill but they were all absolutely always waiting for Mick or Keith.”

While being out on the road with the Stones seemed, as Rose would later say, “a bit more exciting and better than the slog of the studio, the tour wasn’t really fun because even at that point I think Mick Taylor realized he had made a mistake by joining them. Even then. Because he could have done other things. He could have gone and joined Paul Butterfield. He could have done music he was more interested in than rock ’n’ roll. He could have played the blues. And jazz. He was also taking classical guitar lessons. His music interests were very wide and if he had done something that he had been the boss of, it would have been better for him than taking this job which of course everyone said, ‘Oh, you have to do this. It’s so wonderful.’

In all the time he did it, he never ever thought it was wonderful. Ever. If he played well, it was okay except that Keith would turn his amp down. Or he would only have the time of his solo to play well and that was that. If he played badly, they applauded anyway so he felt there was no discernment on the part of the audience. He didn’t feel he was making any contribution that was really important. He was so sensitive. And he was never satisfied with what he did with them, really.”

Since Mick Taylor rarely said anything at all on this tour and seemed to be playing at the height of his powers on a nightly basis, no one had any idea how he was really feeling. Never shy about expressing herself, the same could not be said about Rose."

Robert Greenfield

#the rolling stones #mick taylor #rose millar #robert greenfield

[pinkdinkydoon]

Due to peer pressure I am going to be rambling about my GotG insert under the cut. Lots of writing, just a warning.

Part 2 will sadly be made.

So a few things before we start. I rewrote all of the mcu in a over 240+ page doc. This is just what I thought was important.

Very obviously self insert. Its my horribly written hyperfixatipn and I get to put myself in it to kiss my husband and make it better

Tony didn't freaking die. Idk I think he's kinda important for what a mid character he is.

after the gauntlet was destroyed as was the stone Gamora died for, she came back. Woo!! I hate this series so much. Widow isn't back because that stone was in a different time.

Peter is half celestial, quarter spartanax, quarter human. I love the TV series for doing that. keeping it.

superior gamora design from the comics. Love those white circles.

I hate that like they made ONE MONTH PASS BETWEEN THE FIRST AND THE SECOND MOVIE. Fixing that. Second movie takes five years after the first, the time between the second and Infinity War takes 6 years.

Now I'll drop how I perceive the main gang

Peter - Personality: Movies | design: movies | Backstory: movies

Gamora - personality: TV show | design: comics/novels | backstory: movies

Rocket - personality: novels | design: movies/comics | backstory: movies

Drax - personality: movies | design: TV show | backstory: TV show/movies

Groot???? - personality: novels | design: all ig?? | BACKSTORY: TV show!!!!!!!!!

》》》

OKAY NOW WE START

My insert, Lici, is a Terran Assassin that works for the Italian, American, and Japanese government. Only hand to hand combat and only used weapons for instant kills.

Killing a kree leader that was in disguse on Terra, she had no idea what Kree were and that she killed one, she was abducted and sent to prison. Not the Klyn.

She escapes, and decides that she likes the space life better!! It's time to become a space assassin!!!

Got there when she was 19, spent 5 years messing around. 24 when she meets the gang.

Very odd day. Just so happened to get arrested and put into the klyn around the same time all of them did.

"Wow... you're really pale for kree! Weird. Most kree girls are bright pink"

"I'm Terran. Sorry"

"what."

Peter gets super excited and immediately starts going off about his tragic backstory while she stands there extremely confused and concerned. "0-0 I just met you"

Quill drags her along for the ride escaping prison, going to Tivan, the ravagers, and fighting Ronan.

They all succeed, and the Nova Corps wipe away all their previous crimes. Allowing them to now do mostly good... from now on.

Now in one giant ship, a team.

The first week is super awkward. Quiet. Rooms haven't been assigned. No music at all because Quill has headphones in as they wander space.

Lici decides its time to break the mold!!! She immediately gets into some comfy clothes, and decided to make dinner and listen to music loudly.

Big mistake.

Drax takes lyrics too literal and it takes him awhile to finally understand them as a whole. But after the incident the finally are comfortable relaxing a bit more and realize they all have a love of music.

The finally get rooms situated as well!

Rocket, Groot, and Lici all share a previous storage room. She gets a mattress on the floor, Baby gets his plant on the window sill. Rocket gets a hammock above them both.

Drax and Gamora share a bedroom while Peter gets his own room.

Since majority of their time is spent on the ship it becomes more and more homey. It takes awhile to get places and it also may take time for orders/people in genuine danger to come in.

Only reasonable thing is to make cassette tapes for everyone and their specific taste. They share personal favorite foods, experiences. Lici becomes the designated cooker/ship cleaner.

They're mostly friends. Not exactly a family yet.

One day Peter requests they go to earth and go grocery shopping. As he's tired of the alien food and REALLY REALLY WANTS poptarts and all the other name brands.

Gang agrees. And while the trip to Terra's sector, Lici walks over to Rocket who is piloting.

"Hey uhhhh... you're good with Tech right??"

"Nearly 5 months living together and you're asking me that?"

"Can you take out tracking devices?"

"Depends. Where?"

She motions to her left thigh and right arm. "Government put them in in case I ever decided to ditch and expose them. I don't wanna get Mac n cheese and suddenly be ambushed by officals."

"Yeah I gotcha. I'll take em out"

A very odd way of bonding, but it's an execption that he allows someone to actually touch him. So while he rips her tigh open to get the tracker out, she's sitting there aggressively holding the couch and part of his arm. Same applies to her arm.

They wrap her up, hook her up to a small blood transfusion and get groceries.

The two of them get more comfortable together. As over the next 5 years they are raising a super small tree in a storage room.

Th holidays come around and Peter has honestly forgotten about those sort of things. Abducted at such a young age, she brings it up and they excitedly decorate the place.

Lights are set up, a poster by the living room talks about the gift giving and she starts making holiday sweets just about every night.

One night she wakes up, waking up her roommate, unaware. She starts he morning sweet making to which he follows.

She's humming, like usual and he clears his throat.

"AH- Oh. Did I wake you?"

"No I'm here on my own intent. I set an alarm and everything...." small pause. "Its like 2 am. Why are you up."

"Mhmm... I wanted to make muffins for breakfast. And also holiday cookies and brownies."

"Yes well. Quill doesn't wake up until 10 am Earth time and it doesn't take 8 hours to make muffins. Kiddos gonna wake up and go "oh where's mommy and daddy!!! Time to cry!!!""

".... mommy?"

"That's the part you pay attention too???"

"I'm up cause I couldn't sleep...." She pauses. Waving a baggie. "Wanna help me frost?"

So he does, and they mess around getting frosting everywhere and laughing. He then decided... fine. I'll participate in gift giving. Because she... kinda deserves it.

Gift day comes around and everyone is given something. (Excluding drax who everyone all agreed they couldn't think of anything, and he replied "the greatest gift is company" ((nerd)))

She gives Peters elemental blaster an upgrade. Gamora a engraved sword, and Rock a new gun holster.

He pulls her to the side and gives her his gift. Cant let people know he ACTUALLY PUT EFFORT. She gets the trademarked hair pins that she never takes out after she gets them.

Both get pest parent mugs.

After that they start hanging out more. More close friends. Close enough to share her mattress. Wow.

As Drax and Quill have their friendship, they have theirs. like everyone has their own built friendships??

Quill and Gamora have the unspoken thing. Quill and Rocket are bickering engineers. Quill and Lici are the Humans. Lici and Gamora or Sucks being the only Girls Club. You GET THE GIST OF IT. At the end of it all they're a family.

5 years post the first movie, Groot's 5 now and they are far more comfortable than they were before.

After the fight against the giant beast for the sovereign, Lici stares straight into Rockets eyes as he steals the batteries and two keep the straightest eye contact.

"Really?"

"Whaaatt?? Anulax batteries are a once in a life time grab."

They meet the high priestess, the fly away happens. And they crash. They meet ego, and immediately everyone is suspicious. Quill agrees to go with him along with Drax and Gamora

Lici stays with Rocket, and helps rebuild the ship and watch nebula. He goes to set up traps, she watches the kid and thinks.

Is it normal to share a bed with the person you take care of a child with and also be the only person he actually allows touch from???

A rational person would say no.

He comes back, gets to working back on the ships and hums along to her personal cassette tape. And she stares while he works.

Like stares. Hard.

"Ya mind?"

"huh. hUH.- UHHHHHH-"

"You're staring.

"Yeah i realize that. I'm trying to think of an excuse gimme a second..... you uhh.. sing nice."

"Sure," he squints a bit.

His notification that people are in the premises and he jumps off to deal with it. Southern Nights comes on and Lici stays with Groot while she continues to think.

And then she hears and explosion and panics immediately. Tells her kid to stay still and runs into the forest. Knocks out one of the aliens close to the ship... realizes its a ravager. Panics.

Sees his figure in the trees and jumps up onto the one he's in. Immediately has a gun pointed to which she shoves out of her face.

"Rock these are-"

"Why the hell are you here????? You're supposed to be watching groot."

"Well these are Ravagers and I thought you needed help."

"I'm fine. Go watch the kid"

"No! I'm helping."

"go watch the literal FIVE YEAR OLD. THAT IS WITH THE LITERAL SERIAL KILLER."

"he's fine--" she hesitates.

They finish up the gang, only for yondu to come down. The betrayal happens they're put on the Ravager ship. Tied up and upset. Groot in a cage while she yells for them to stop and Rocket sits there extremely upset.

"You know maybe if you stayed with the kid-"

"Oh so now you're gonna blame me for this??"

"Oh no of course not all of it!! Just about HALF OF IT!"

"OH SO HERE WE G-"

The main one revolting shushes them and does his taseface speil while Lici sits there mildly amused with the remarks her friend is doing despite it all.

And it hits her like a bus.

Oh she is totally in love. Like a train she sits there and stares into the distance of her horrible situation and then turns back to Rock. Wow.

Yeah she'll ignore it. The rest of the movie happens as it does, Ego is killed and they head back to the ship with new scars and very tired expressions.

Everything is relatively normal. Things stay the same. Gamora and Peter now share a room so woo to Drax and mantis sharing a place now.

And it continues....

Lord all mighty I have to make a part 2. Massive kudos those who actually read this. I'm sorry for your braincells 😭😵‍💫

#self ship #pinkspacewanderer #my art #rambles #long ramble #●R.M.L

[favoniuscodex]

just a scratch [childe, diluc, xiao]

prompt: you get injured. of course, your partner doesn't like that. characters: childe, diluc, xiao w/ gn!reader word count: ~1.9k words warnings: descriptions of canon-typical violence, near-death injuries, kinda angsty? but things end up okay. death (not any major characters) a/n: :) first actual non-event piece in a while huh? dainsleif, kaeya, and zhongli in part 2 because this was getting pretty long LOL i haven't written anything action-y like this on my blog before (i think?) so lmk if you like it! :)

childe

don't fall in love with your underlings, la signora had warned the eleventh harbinger. they're supposed to be disposable.

now, as childe watches your form crumple to the ground, a sick and twisted part of him wishes he listened to her. childe couldn't remember who was wrong in this situation. were you the one out of place? or were the treasure hoarders? you were typically the known variable, but the ones who were in debt to childe weren't, which meant that your response to them would be predictable at best.

what childe hadn't calculated, however, was the way a treasure hoarder managed to slice at the back of your knees and force you to the ground. you had always been quick on your feet, but the treasure hoarders were faster. upon seeing the indebted, useless, vile treasure hoarder clamber over your back and rush to attempt to slit your throat, childe sees red.

and, for the first time in several months, he transforms. in a flash of neon purple electro energy, childe reappears in the foul legacy form. even from the viewpoint of his increased height, childe can still see the fear in your eyes as you strain against the treasure hoarder above you. but, with your legs out for the count and your weapon pinned underneath you in your fall, you have little to no leverage.

it enrages childe. you, one of the best fighters he knows, deserved better than to be taken down by some filthy, lowlife treasure hoarder. you and childe had so much left to do, so much left to see, and childe had so much he hadn't yet told you. with the fury of a grecian hero, childe throws his spear forward and watches as it flings the treasure hoarder on top of you off with ease. in response, you begin to seek safety, dragging yourself off to the side while childe finishes off those dumb enough to even think about harming you.

sure, should childe collect his debts rather than seeking revenge? yes. but, will the tsaritsa necessarily care? no. she is the goddess of love and childe lives to serve. you watch as you see the anger poured into each hit as he finishes off the rest of the treasure hoarders. his transformation and method of fighting is complete overkill, but you realize that childe is only doing this to send a message. however, your ogling is interrupted by another fatui agent capturing your attention as they approach you to assist you.

the agent picks you up and you take one last look at childe before promptly passing out in the arms of your ally. by the time you awake, you're nestled securely in an infirmary bed. bandages coat your legs, but you wiggle your toes, sighing in relief as you see them moving. the noise of your sighing alerts the man sitting next to you, whose attention immediately snaps up at the sight of you.

childe, you acknowledge. his eyes are rimmed with red and you've never seen your lover worse for wear, but before you can extend a hand to cup his face, he's extending his towards you. childe's hands gently wrap around yours, as if he's afraid to squeeze too tight, and he sends you a weary smile.

"did you finish them off?" you ask softly and childe nods.

"good," you respond and childe merely echoes your statement in a soft tone. his face contorts with anguish and, as he holds your hands, childe cries with relief at your safety.

diluc

it was always the fatui, huh? fatui this, fatui that. living the life of the darknight hero meant that diluc would never truly get a break but man, he was irate that the fatui had the audacity to ambush his travels, especially with you by his side. but, with a vision strapped to your hip, you were more than capable of holding your own, especially as you materialized your weapon into the air.

"i do not wish to fight," you hiss at the fatui skirmishers who surround you and diluc. "but the fatui have never been respectful of people's wishes, have they?"

diluc's back rests against yours as the two of you brace yourself for the battle about to occur. the fatui strike first, raising their weapons and the clash of metal against metal echoes through the air. pyro energy combines with the energy of your vision as you and diluc battle the snezhnayan infiltrators.

"fuck," you whine and diluc hears the noise of you hitting the ground, followed by triumphant laughter of the fatui agents. in a rush of panic, diluc sends far too large of a blast at the fatui before him, but he doesn't regret it after he whirls around to see your crumpled form on the floor. a fatui vanguard raises their hammer over your head and swings down, but diluc's claymore interrupts its path.

"i'll kill you," diluc promises the agent in front of him. "don't even think about touching them."

the skirmisher's lips quiver in concern at the steely nature of diluc's words, but before he can beg for mercy for attempting to kill what diluc treasures most in the world, diluc casts a wave of pyro energy at them, sending them stumbling back. the redhead hesitantly steps over your hunched form to glare daggers at the three fatui left standing.

blinded by his own rage, diluc incinerates the grass before him, focused only on protecting you and keeping you safe, even if it results in him pushing himself too hard. after everything the fatui has done to him, diluc feels incensed by the fact that they even think they could get away with this. it isn't until he feels your hand wrap around his ankle that he's taken out of his own infuriated trance.

"'luc," you mutter, but the noise is enough to have his gaze immediately snapping down to you. "don't kill them... it's not worth it."

your face is bloodied from the fall and diluc glances back at the now-fallen fatui soldiers. he's rendered them unconscious, but they'll live to see another day thanks to your mercy. after all, diluc has more important things to attend to, such as getting you medical assistance.

"where did they hit you?" is the first question that leaves diluc's lips as he crouches down to look at you.

"my stomach," you respond, gesturing down to the slowly bleeding wound that stains your outfit. diluc's face shifts in worry as he props you up against the side of the wagon the two of you had been riding in. his hands shakily fumble for the hem of your shirt and he lifts it upwards to expose the injured skin. his breaths are shaky and, even in your disoriented state, you can tell the state of panic he's in.

after all, the sight of someone he loves laying injured before him is something diluc has seen far too often.

"hey," you murmur, doing your best to focus your eyes on him as your fingertips begin to glow with the energy of your vision. "i... can heal it a little. i'll be fine."

your words are slightly garbled and diluc's shell-shocked expression doesn't leave his face until he sees the energy of the vision beginning to repair your wounds. you manage to temporarily close the wound and, upon the cessation of bleeding, diluc snaps back into action.

"you are safe," diluc murmurs, but it sounds more as if he's trying to convince himself. he quickly propels himself upwards and climbs into the wagon, rifling around for the first aid kit within.

"hey," you say when he finally returns with it, nearly dropping you as his hands shake in fear. "i'm okay, diluc. you saved me."

diluc nods, staring down at the box before glancing up at you. you smile reassuringly at him and, despite the pure anguish in his eyes, he does his best to return your smile in the form of a soft smirk of his own.

xiao

"xiao!" you scream as you plummet off the edge of a cliff, having been injured by the stonehide lawachurl you were fighting. you hadn't expected it to be sleeping nearby and, upon your exploration of the area, it angrily revealed itself with a roar and charged at you. you hadn't prepared yourself for a fight with such a massive creature and, as a result, had easily been knocked off the side of the cliff.

the wind whistles around you as you fall and you wonder if your lover had even heard your scream. the adeptus had always told you to call out his name if you ever had an emergency and you figured there was no greater emergency than actively falling to your death. you had just wanted to collect cor lapis. was that too hard to ask?

your eyes flutter closed as you accept your fate, but a flash of green above you pierces through the thin veil of darkness your eyelids provide. strong arms secure themselves around your figure and you hear a grunt as your savior makes impact with the ground. you open your eyes to be met with the brilliant amber ones of the yaksha you held so dear to you. his eyes are blown wide with worry, but he gently sets you down.

"are you okay?" he asks gruffly and you nod, still in shock from the fall. before you can tell him to wait, xiao waves a hand over his face and rematerializes his mask. his polearm materializes in his hand and xiao wordlessly teleports to the cliff you just fell from. anger courses through his veins as the lawachurl screams at him. in his anger, xiao curses back at it before weaving deftly through its clumsy strikes. xiao's polearm pierces it with ease and xiao watches as it falls over, defeated, yet the anger that courses through his veins is a feeling he hasn't experienced in ages.

the only thing that moves him from his spot is the thought of you waiting for him below, so xiao sighs and teleports back down. you rest against the side of the cliff, back propped up against stone. xiao glances you over once more. with no visible injuries, you would likely just have a bruise, but xiao worried about internal bleeding or other injuries mortals would likely face. you were fragile, far too fragile, and xiao had nearly had you taken from him by some mindless brute. his polearm disappears from his hand as he collapses by your side.

"thank you for saving me," you wish sincerely, but xiao lets out a shaky sigh in response.

"i will take you to a doctor," xiao grunts and, before you can insist that you are fine, xiao slinks a hand underneath your knees and behind your back. he holds you close to him bridal-style and, with a flash, the two of you appear in liyue harbor.

"i can walk," you huff, but xiao simply looks down at you.

"where are we going?" the adeptus asks and you can't help but smile. for the yaksha who hates crowds and dislikes liyue harbor, he had no qualms about inserting himself in the middle of it for you. maybe you could feign an injury or two -- just for his sake.

#childe x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe #diluc #xiao #genshin impact #axia's writing

[heavenlyheartsclub]

OUT WEIRDED (Bill Cipher/Reader Oneshot)

Warnings: Mild body horror, animal bones, and the use of possibly triggering words (weirdo, etc.)

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

Boring. That was the word that was driving Bill Cipher insane. Well, figuratively. He would say that he had already lost his sanity long ago. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, he was bored. When the time came for The Axolotl to uphold their end of the bargain, Bill was more than eager to enact his revenge. But of course, he wouldn’t be let off that easy. He got what he wanted, being brought back from the edge of annihilation, but it seemed he’d be having to spend his new chance at life locked away. Locked away in his own petrified body’s subconscious mind. What a better way to cause a chaos being grief than with nothing but….well, nothing?

And yet, the dream demon didn’t let that deter him. After all, you have to look on the sunny side of what the rotten egg of fate gave you. Oh, and a sunny side there was. A new factor, a new chess piece. Despite the hand he’d been dealt, Bill found himself with a wildcard. Y/N was a clean slate, a new puppet who had just moved to Gravity Falls a month prior. They were practically bursting with excitement over the new opportunities, and Bill couldn’t agree with them more. It was almost ridiculous how easy it was to draw them in; after all, they were oh so curious to explore their new surroundings. And a mysterious statue in the woods was just the thing to catch their attention. Y/N’s naive and open nature played into his hand, literally!

They barely hesitated to shake the stone monument’s hand, laughing to themselves about the seemingly purposeful intent of the statue. That was all Bill needed to dive straight into their mind. Echoing laughter pealed throughout Y/N’s grayscale mindscape, as Bill Cipher’s glowing gold form made itself known. Bill stretched, letting his voice express itself at full volume. “AAAAAAAAHHHHHH, FINALLY! FINALLY FREE FROM THAT CRAMPED PRISON!”

After he was satisfied with his outburst, Bill’s singular eye landed on the human in front of him, who was looking up at him in surprise. “SO YOU’RE THE ONE WHO LET MET OUT, HUH? THE NAME’S BILL CIPHER, AND YOU?”

“Y-Y/N.” They managed to stammer out, still staring at him. “Are you…an angel?”

“SOMETHIN’ LIKE THAT.”

“You were inside that?” Y/N asked, tilting their head to look past the dream demon and to the stone monument behind him.

“OH YES, I WAS TRICKED BY AN AWFUL HUMAN INTO BE LOCKED INSIDE.”

“That’s awful!”

“IT WAS, BUT THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT NOW! WHAT’S IMPORTANT IS THAT YOU FREED ME, AND I THINK YOU DESERVE A REWARD.”

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes shimmered in wonder.

“YEP!” Bill chimed as he came in close to their side, outstretching his hand next to their head. In one swift motion, Bill shoved his hand into Y/N’s ear. His arm moved around inside the human’s head, making a rattling sound. He paused to grab at something. “THERE IT IS!” Withdrawing as easily as he had entered, Bill’s fingers gripped the tip of something pointy and white. Like a clown pulling out a seemingly endless chain of colored handkerchiefs, Bill extracted the preserved skeleton of a snake out of Y/N’s ear canal, the skull coming out last with a cartoonish popping sound. Winding it up, Bill dropped the carcass into Y/N’s open palms. “JUST FOR YOU, KID!”

Y/N stood there, eyes wide and mouth agape, their brain trying to register what just happened. Bill’s eye upturned in a makeshift smile as he felt laughter rumbling in his figurative chest. As the shocked mortal tried to stutter out some sort of reply, Bill readied himself for a priceless reaction.

“H-h-HOW DID YOU DO THAT???” Y/N gasped in total awe, holding the skeleton close to their chest.

The triangle’s laugh died in his nonexistent throat. “…what?” Bill was surprised by his own voice, it’s usual boisterous quality reduced to a wimpy tone.

“That was amazing! Where did you learn to do that? Was that an illusion or magic? Is magic even real? Are YOU magic?” Y/N continued to ramble on, spewing out a slew of seemingly endless questions. Bill sat there, blinking slowly. What just happened? This wasn’t how things usually went. This human should have been screaming their head off in terror, not bouncing around excitedly like they had been offered candy.

“Easy Cipher,” he thought to himself. “There’s no reason to get worked up over this. You may be a bit rusty, but you’ve dealt with hundreds of schmucks just like this one. Convincing them into taking a deal will be cake walk.” He readjusted his bow tie and began to speak up, only to be interrupted by Y/N.

“Thank you so much for this! I’ve always wanted to have a collection of specimens, but I never knew where to start!”

Yeesh, they were starting to remind him of Sixer. No matter, he just had to get back on track. “NO PROBLEM, GLAD YA LIKE IT.” He said with a casual air, as if everything had been planned. “THOUGH IF I’M BEING HONEST, I JUST DON’T THINK THAT’S GOOD ENOUGH FOR SOMEONE LIKE YOU. I MEAN, YOU FREED ME FROM BEING ETERNALLY BOUND TO THIS COLD, UNFEELING, LONELY CAGE!” He stated as he floated over the the statue, leaning against it dramatically.

He flew back to where Y/N stood, leaning in close to the snake skeleton. “I DOUBT SUCH A TEENSY TINY PRESENT COULD EVER BE OF EQUAL VALUE” He said, poking it’s spine to emphasize. “SO I’LL TELL YOU WHAT. SINCE YOU’VE BEEN SO KIND, WHY DON’T I RETURN THE FAVOR?”

“What do you mean?” They said, cocking their head quizzically.

“WHAT I MEAN KID, IS THAT I WANNA HELP YOU!” Bill said cheerfully, putting his arm around Y/N. “YOU’RE NEW IN TOWN, A BABY BIRD FINALLY LEAVING THE NEST TO EXPLORE THE BIG WIDE WORLD. SURELY THERE’S SOMETHING YA NEED SOME ASSISTANCE WITH.”

“Mmmm…” Y/N tapped their chin, contemplating his offer. “Nope!”

“WHAT.” Again, Bill was left with that single word. They had to be joking. Either this human had a will of steel, or they were as dumb as a sack of rocks. He took a deep breath. “ALRIGHT,” Bill chuckled breathily, “MAYBE YOU DON’T NEED HELP WITH ANYTHING. BUT WHAT ABOUT A DREAM? EVERYBODY’S GOT A WISH THEY WANT GRANTED!”

“Well, there is one...” The triangle perked up, barely able to contain his excitement. Finally, they were getting somewhere! “But you already granted it!” Y/N giggled, holding up the skeleton and wiggling it about. Bill physically slumped, squinting in disbelief. He mentally cursed at himself for giving them that “gift.” But then again, how could he have known that the mortal who freed him would be such a weirdo?

“C’MOONNN, THERE’S GOTTA BE SOMETHING! MAYBE YOU WANT LOTS OF FRIENDS, OR SUPERPOWERS? WHAT ABOUT MONEY? A SMOKIN’ HOT DATE?” He circled around Y/N.

“No thanks, I’m pretty happy the way I am!” They smiled, curling up the skeleton and putting it in their pocket. They started to walk, but Bill quickly moved in front to block them.

“BUT YOU COULD BE HAPPIER! THIS IS A ONCE IN A LIFETIME CHANCE, DO YOU REALLY WANNA WASTE IT, KNOWING YOU COULD HAVE HAD ANYTHING?”

“Hmm, well when you put it that way, I guess it would be pretty rude to refuse your offer.” Y/N admitted.

“IT WOULD, IT WOULD!” Bill insisted.

“Theeennnn I wish fooooorrrrr…….” Y/N drawled for an absurdly long time, like a drum roll that didn’t get the cue it should end. Bill’s single pupil was trained on Y/N’s finger as it moved about in circles, waiting for it to land on a target. It finally stopped, their index finger pointing at his own triangular form. “You!”

Bill froze. “LIKE….AS A SERVANT?”

Y/N laughed. “No, silly! I wanna get to know you! I’m not asking to be friends or anything, I just want to learn more about you.” Y/N paused for a moment, breaking their gaze with Bill to bashfully kick at the dirt. “You seem really interesting…”

This was strange, even for Bill. Not only did this human turn down the offer for anything in the universe, but now they were asking to be pals with him? There had to be some ulterior motive here, there was no way someone would do this without purpose. He had to keep his eye on this one. “THEN IT’S A DEAL.” Bill stated, outstretching his hand as it was overcome by a bright blue flame. Y/N mumbled an “oooooh” as they gingerly took his small hand in a handshake.

“Huh, it’s cold!” Y/N laughed. “I thought blue fire was supposed to be super hot.”

“YOU BETTER GET USED TO THE UNEXPECTED IF YOU’RE GONNA LIVE HERE, KIDDO.” He said, withdrawing his hand to clasp it with his other behind his back, before turning away to float off in a seemingly random direction.

“I can’t wait!” Y/N bounced in excitement. Realizing that their new companion was already a few feet ahead of them, Y/N jogged to catch up. “Oh, oh! Ok first question, do you have any depth perception with one eye?” Bill grumbled under his breath as Y/N followed him deeper into the woods.

He was already regretting this decision.

#Gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fanfic #reader #x reader #gravity falls reader #fanfiction #fanfic #Oneshot #Drabble #oc x canon #canon x oc #Y/n #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x y/n #canon x reader #reader x canon #bill cipher #Heavenly Musings 🖋✨✨

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

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Sugar daddy fic (Some tags didn't work)

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere prompts #yandere imagines #yandere scenario #yandere oneshot #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere kaeya #yandere kaeya x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya x y/n #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

[obae-me]

A Taste of Your Own Medicine

Author’s Note: I finally did it! One of my bigger projects finished! And this is the most ambitious thing I’ve posted in a while! It’ll be my biggest post for sure! I truly, truly hope you guys enjoy this. I hope this sickfic can make you feel a bit better during these times. (*slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so many cuddles in it). Thank you all for your encouragement and support, it’s honestly what helped me get this finished! Also, I swear I’ve been over this thing more than thirty times to try and catch mistakes, but it’s a lot so if I missed mistakes I apologize. 

Word Count: 18,300

Warnings: Blood, Medication Use, Vomiting, I’m not a doctor in any way shape or form, so please don’t take any of this as a personal guide. 

As Always, Read Safely, And Please Enjoy!

Lucifer, then Satan and Mammon. After that came Beel and Belphie, followed up by Levi. Lastly Asmo. All of them, every single one, had fallen ill. Try as they may, none of them had been safe, and you’d been the main one working to nurse them back to health despite you knowing nothing about caring for demons. It had been...what was the right word? Grueling? No. Enjoyable? Well you couldn’t quite say that either. It had its ups and downs. Working for about a month straight on little sleep wasn’t exactly a dream job, but the affection and actions you’d seen were priceless. The pictures on your phone and the memories in your head would keep your heart warm for the rest of your life, but you could go no further. You were done. Done with being a nurse. Done with restless nights. Done with this illness. 

The House of Lamentation had finally begun to feel normal again, normal except for your persistent fatigue accompanied by strange shifts in your body temperature. It started off small at first, you had hardly noticed. Unfortunately, it had grown rather rapidly, impeding your day-to-day life. The fuzzy thoughts in the back of your mind knew that something was unnatural. Your body shouldn’t feel like this. Yet, afraid of facing the truth, or hoping you were just overreacting, you insisted that just sleeping it off would bring you back to normal. 

Only... you should’ve known. You should’ve seen the signs. The sneezing, the breathlessness you felt with the simplest of things, the discomfort settling in your bones. What were you going to do? Well, you figured the best thing to do was move onward, acting like nothing was amiss. Fake it till you make it. Whatever it was would go away on its own, it had to. 

But it wouldn’t, and as much as they would refuse to admit it, each demonic member of the household had grown fond of being fussed over by you. Tugging you in all directions, demanding constant attention, wearing your energy down to dust. Although, if you were being entirely honest, they tended to do that regardless. However, after being treated so specially, their neediness grew tenfold. Thus, without giving yourself a break, every morning you ended up feeling worse than the day before, and it was only going downhill from there. Perhaps you should’ve told them, nipping it in the bud before it had a change to blossom into something terrible. In retrospect, that should’ve been the obvious path to take. Yet, driven by some desire you couldn’t place, you pushed yourself so far past the breaking point that your own body had to stop you. 

Waking up to your alarm in the early hours of this particular morning was more difficult than you’d like to admit. Removing the blankets might as well have been pushing stones off your body. Your limbs felt stiff, gravity’s pull was stronger than it should’ve been, and moving forward was like pushing through waves of molasses. However, you went forward, still fooled under some grand delusion that you’d feel better once you freshened up. Gathering up a change of clothes and a towel for your morning shower, you stumbled out of your room. Getting to the bathroom had been a blur, the only thing you could recall was consistently leaning your weight against the wall to keep your legs steady. You’d met no one in your path, assuming they must’ve all already been in the dining hall, the faint smell of breakfast foods flooding the hallways. It made your stomach churn. 

Before anyone could see you in this downright pathetic state, you entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You took a moment to catch your breath and press your forehead against the cold wood of the door. It felt amazing against your skin. But you couldn’t linger, you had to get ready for RAD. As you turned, you came up to the sink, settling your items on the side of the bowl. It was then you saw your face in the mirror for the first time that morning. Biting your lip, you splashed some water on your face, hoping it would wash away some of the hints of sickness-- the not-sickness...you weren’t sick. Right? You couldn’t have caught the demon illness, right? Was it possible? Your head was throbbing, the heart in your chest pounding in panic. What were you going to do? You couldn’t miss classes, you couldn’t let anyone know, you couldn’t be a burden. Brush your teeth, you thought. Get ready, play it off. It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. Stop overreacting. 

Showering felt nice, it was the only thing so far that let you feel some peace. The steamy hot water released some of the tension in your temples and lungs. Although, the intense heat made you lightheaded, and a single little misstep in the shower had you almost plummet to the floor. Shaking, gasping for air, desperately attempting to cling to the slick stone wall, you slowly sat on the wet tiles, leaning your body back so the stream of water landed directly on your chest. The comfort almost coaxed you back into sleep, but before you could fall into slumber, you jolted. How long had you been in there? Five minutes? Half an hour? You could forget about washing your head today. Crawling out of the shower, the frigid air burnt the inside of your nose, shuddering you with a few sneezes. Not good. You rushed to dry yourself off and pull your uniform on. Before you headed down to the dining hall, you blew your nose, shook your head, and prepared yourself to sound as normal as possible. Somehow you managed not to stumble down the stairs, something you were thankful for. Maybe it wasn’t as severe as you thought it was. 

Arguing could be heard past the hall doors. That wasn’t too rare, it’d become tradition almost, to the point where being met with an unclamorous silence was somewhat threatening. What was it this time? Mammon stealing something? Beel eating something? Belphie not doing something? 

It was hard to comprehend the words, but you could make out the important pieces. “I bought that for ya, so it… … … that I took it back!” Mammon growled. 

“Once you… … …  it was mine!” Asmo shrieked. “It wasn’t yours to sell … … … buy it in the first place!” 

Ah, so it was another Mammon related issue, you didn’t need to be a hardcore gambler to win that bet. Raised voices didn’t do any good for your head, the pressure in your eardrums throbbing. You stayed silent as you slid inside, or at least you tried to stay silent. Instead, you accidently made your presence prominent as you shut the doors too harshly behind you. Heads turned all at once, your knees threatening to turn to jelly under the gaze. 

“Is something the matter, MC?” Lucifer asked, the first one able to sense something wrong. He always knew. You were never able to hide anything from him. However, the fact that you’d been able to play things off in his presence up till now settled a sort of twisted pride inside you. You blamed Pride himself for his bad influence. Lowering his cup from his lips, he raised an eyebrow. 

You mustered up a usual grin. “Just...tired,” you lied. Had your throat always been this sore? And was it the table full of warm food, or was it terribly hot in here? Not the healing sort of temperature either, but rather the sticky suffocating heat that formed waves in your vision. Or maybe the room was swirling on its own? Tugging at the collar of your shirt, you took a single step forward, attempting to walk again. You lowered your head, turning away from the eldest, remaining as inconspicuous as possible for fear he’d take one good look at you and expose your troubles. Lucifer was not convinced, shifting his gaze between his morning cup of coffee and your strange stature. For the time being, he dropped his questions, lying in wait for you to exude any signs that you were lying. 

Doing your best not to trip up, you eventually sat down at the dining table, a spot left open for you between Belphie--who was sitting up asleep--and Asmo. The demon of lust luckily didn’t seem to notice your weaker state, continuing on his tirade against his older brother. “Mammon, I swear to whatever forces may be listening that if you don’t get it back I will ruin you, you hear me?!” 

“Yeah yeah, you can try!” Mammon scoffed. 

Asmo spoke again, his words blocked out by the sudden ringing in your ears, the shrill noise spurring on pain behind your eyes. As you bit the inside of your cheek, you squeezed your eyes closed till the painful sound faded away. Only, opening them back up now seemed to make everything worse. The light was harsh, far too harsh, blinding rays striking off every reflective surface. Your vision started to swim, blurring the features of those around you. Squinting, you groaned a bit to yourself before lifting a utensil from the table, attempting to eat some of the breakfast in front of you before anyone became suspicious. Every bite sank heavily to the bottom of your stomach. 

“Will the two of you be quiet, for sin’s sake?!” Satan boomed, his wrath peeking through his composure as his brothers started to take their spat too far, interrupting what should’ve been a quiet morning. Although, when had that ever happened? Magic spilling from their fingertips, demon forms exposed, Mammon and Asmo were each ready to brawl it out at any moment. The ruckus finally managed to stir Belphie who was visibly irritated. 

The miniscule amount of food you had eaten started to already stir sickeningly within you. The sweltering heat you had felt before stripped away in a moment, a frightening chill creeping over your body. Before you could think, you got to your feet, breathless, heart pounding as an overwhelming presence of something agonizing forced you to move. Getting up too quickly caused the whole world to rock, your head doing somersaults. Lucifer obviously was now convinced everything was far from fine as you swayed on your own two feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the hardwood floor as he stood. Everyone in the room quickly went quiet, all eyes on you as you fumbled. The weight of their attention seemed to push you further over the edge. “It’s...I’m…” You needed to move, to be anywhere but here, so you staggered a few steps away from the group. 

You heard the thud before you felt it, not quite comprehending what it meant to feel the floor fall out from beneath you as the world shifted sideways. The area became a chorus of shouts as seven demons called out your name. You didn’t fully blackout. Your consciousness was too stubborn to be snuffed out like that, but you couldn’t fully talk or move either. 

A pair of arms wrapped around you, bringing you close to their body. Despite being right next to you, somehow everything still felt so far away, like you were experiencing everything secondhand. The smoothness of leather touched your cheek before the glove was supposedly discarded, cold skin touching your face. “They’re burning up,” Lucifer announced, the undertones of his voice just barely wavering, or perhaps your sense of sound was just as skewed as your sight had been. He flipped his hand over, his knuckles brushing against your forehead. You tried opening your eyes to look at him, but it was next to impossible. 

“MC?! Hey, what’s with you?!” Mammon shouted, two hands squeezing your shoulders. The panic in his words was apparent. “What’s wrong with them?!”

“I think they’re sick,” Belphie chimed. 

Satan sounded distant, but his voice still drifted to your ears. “Should I alert Simeon and Solomon?” 

Without warning, you sensed yourself being lifted off the floor, the sudden movement jerking the last strands of your consciousness back as you lurched into a black weightlessness. You swam through the fog, trying to pick back up the voices in the room. 

“...the human world to get a few things,” someone spoke. As you shifted your body, the people went silent, but not for long. 

“They’re awake!” 

“Thank heavens…” 

“Oi, everyone get off ‘em!” 

Somehow, you found the energy to open your eyes. There were no arms holding you and the dining room was far gone. You were now in bed, in your room, surrounded by demons, angels, and the only other human in the Devildom. The confusion of the blank spot in your memory shot panic through your nerves, not to mention it was uncomfortable to be stared down like this. “What…?” You gasped, trying to sit up in bed. A washcloth slid off your forehead and down your face. Someone’s gentle hands guided you back into a lying position, taking the rag and putting it back in its place. 

Lucifer had a chair pulled up to your bedside, lines popping up between his eyebrows in worry. He finished pressing you back up against your pillow, pulling the blankets back over your chest. “Don’t move too much,” he ordered, his words harsh but his eyes soft. “You collapsed in the dining hall.” 

Well, that part you could recall. They must’ve brought you here. Despite it only feeling like a second, you must’ve been out long enough for the other exchange students to arrive. “Is-” You interrupted yourself with some coughs, quickly turning your head into your pillow. Even just speaking left your lungs weak, but you had a question. “Is it…? 

“It’s not what the brothers had if that’s what you’re asking,” Solomon nodded. “You as a human couldn’t catch that particular illness. Although if you had, you probably wouldn’t survive. So lucky you, right?” Levi nearly dropped to his knees at that prospect, eyes wide with fear, as if he wasn’t convinced that you were lucky at all. You had to admit, you felt far from it. Many of the other siblings shot the sorcerer a dirty glare, everyone’s nerves strangely on edge. Solomon closed his eyes and laughed a bit. “Aha, but like I said, it’s a very mortal disease. Just a cold or the case of the flu from what I can tell.” 

“Just?” Mammon growled, barking out his opinions like an angry guard dog. “They’re lying here looking like they're two seconds away from pushin’ up daisies and you make guesses? You’ve been acting so calm and treating this like it ain’t that serious! And to be honest, it’s kinda tickin’ me off!” He took a few serious steps towards Solomon, shoulders squared, ready to fight. Luke ducked behind Simeon’s body for protection, but there was no need. Before he took things too far, Mammon growled and resumed his brisk pace around your room. 

“I hate to agree with him,” Asmo started, “But Mammon’s right.” The fourth-born frowned, some of his outward sparkle dulled with concern. Every hint of his and Mammon’s dispute had faded away. “This isn’t a joke! You have to do something, Solomon! Save them!” Asmo flung himself over the sorcerer begging and pleading, reacting as if you were on your deathbed. Mammon pushed a haughty breath of air between his teeth, turning on his heels to sit beside you on the bed. His nervous energy could hardly be contained, erratically adjusting the blanket over your body as one of his legs bounced up and down rapidly. 

Solomon shook his head, brushing Asmo off of him. “I was simply trying to lighten the mood.” You caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watched these powerful demons on the brink of falling to pieces. “If treated properly, it shouldn't be fatal. Plenty of monitoring and rest and the body should heal on its own. Of course if it worsens or persists, then a doctor might be required, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it. Although, like I was saying, it would be best if I went to the human world to at least get some proper medicine. We wouldn’t want our MC here to suffer the full brunt of the symptoms, and I doubt the remedies here would have a desired effect.” 

With that, Lucifer sighed, lifting his chin to address the sorcerer. “I shall accompany you to the human world. We’ll get what we need and come right back, understood?” 

Either the demon of pride’s stern glare wasn’t at its peak today or Solomon was generally unaffected. The sorcerer looked past him and right at you with a grin on his face. “He gets rather overbearing when it comes to you doesn’t he?” 

“We’re leaving,” Lucifer huffed, his arms wide to shepherd everyone out of your room. Several of his siblings cried out in protest. “Everyone out! The last thing MC needs is the bunch of you bothering them.” The only one he didn’t tug along was Simeon, the angel turning down the light and approaching you as soon as everyone had gone. 

A short laugh rumbled in his throat. “They sure do care about you a lot,” he smiled. He took Mammon’s previous spot on the bed by you, settled by your hip. He discovered the bump in the blanket that served as your arm under the covers. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down over it. “What a terrible thing for you to be this sick.” It wasn’t often the angel frowned, but in this case he appeared deeply troubled, as if he was taking your pain as his own. “I can help you fall asleep if you’d like me to. Solomon warned me against using too much magic against your weakened immune system, but I should be able to let you sleep peacefully.” He waited for a response, not moving forward with anything till you nodded your head slowly. Golden light rushed to the ends of his fingers, the soft skin of his fingertips brushing against your eyelids to close them. A shudder ran down your spine, your own body tingling, and you wondered if it was his magic or simply just the tender gesture. “Rest well, MC,” Simeon whispered. “Feel better.” And then just like he suggested, your mind quickly got swept along into a blissful sleep. 

Angelic magic or not, it didn’t seem to hold back the fever for long. Even in your dreams, all you could feel was frigid fire. Your nerves were fried, unable to tell if you were freezing to death or boiling. And the dreams...the images flashing in your mind of threats you couldn’t understand, dangers that filled you with panic. Someone was uttering words to you that you couldn't understand. All you could do was try to run, try to escape. Everything about you was screaming. 

Through the mist of sickness, you could finally make out the voice. “...gotta...can’t...help…” After a few moments of the whimpering and the distress, you were alarmed to figure out it was the sound of your own voice. But you couldn’t even feel yourself saying the words. 

“I’m here,” another person muttered past the darkness. “It’s alright…” The stranger shushed, trying to sound sweet to cover up the panic in their tone. “The one time I need that pompous jerk around and he’s gone. Figures.” You could hear a few pages being turned, a frustrated click of a tongue followed after. “Why didn’t I look this up before? Why wasn’t I prepared?” The anger from the other being in the room seemed to affect you. You thrashed a little, kicking your feet as if it would help push off the suffocating agony. Two hands clamped down on your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. “Calm down...Please calm down...I need to calm down.” Once you went back to being mostly still, more pages were turned. “Have the afflicted wear light clothing. I can do that.” A weight was shed off of you as the blanket pulled back. Air struck your sweat covered skin, sending chills down your body. You began to tremble. The front of your RAD uniform was tugged at, someone working at the buttons to shed the outer layer off your body. 

“...won’t...s...sor...is…hah…” Your speech was broken, and even if you knew what you wanted to say, your mouth wouldn’t let you. Someone took your hands, lifting your arm to let gravity help assist in removing the sleeve. You could feel it slip before fully crashing against the bed like a dead weight, free of the thick uniform fabric. The same was done with the other arm. Then a hand supported the back of your neck, lifting your upper body just enough until the extra layer was yanked out from under you. Removing the jacket had been like opening an oven. Heat from your body suddenly escaped into the room, no longer trapped behind unnecessary insulation. Even in your rather deranged state, you could feel your shirt sticking to your skin. Now you seemed to be shuddering harder.

“Hydration...medication...Curses, Lucifer, get back here...Nothing...there’s nothing here!” The individual grunted in a growl of vexation, a frantic flutter of paper soaring further away before something heavy struck the ground far from you. You managed to stop moaning, switching to feverish panting. Your company tutted at you again, stroking the top of your head tenderly. “Can you even hear me at all? Breathe, MC, breathe.” It’s embarrassing to admit it took you much longer than you would’ve liked to remember how to control your breathing. Once you took some deeper inhales, you heard your caretaker sigh in relief. “Good…Well, not good, but better.” 

Reality had sunken in almost completely now, just covered with a thin layer of dreamy haze. You cracked your eyes open, a mess of blonde hair and worried green eyes looking down at you. “S-Sa...tan,” you murmured. 

His hand stroked your head a few more times before grabbing the wet rag again and dotting it across your face. The energy you needed to retain consciousness was quickly fading. Satan’s hands grasped your face. “Hold on!  Look at me again, come on.” With every ounce of power you had left, you lifted your eyelids as much as you could. Still half-lidded, you only caught glimpses of his green sweater as he slid one hand under your back, lifting you up gently. Your head bobbed down, chin against your chest as Satan settled your back against your headboard. Gentle fingers lifted your head, some plastic brought to your lips. “You have to stay hydrated, drink just a little.” You wrapped your lips around the straw, sucking water into your body until you felt like you were going to be sick again. Satan moved to put the cup back down, and in that time he made the mistake of letting you go. Gravity tugged your body down, nearly slipping out of bed, threatening to fall to the floor. Thankfully, the demon of wrath was there to catch you. Head resting against his shoulder, you breathily let out a ‘thank you’ that was probably closer to a slurred series of sounds rather than a statement. 

His arms wrapped tightly around you. “Don...lea…ve...”

Then everything went black again. 

When consciousness flooded back to your mind, you had no idea how long it had been. Turning to your other side, you rubbed your head against the pillow. Everything was still much too warm. You slipped an arm under your heavy headrest, hoping to get to the cooler side. Your pillow twitched. Your pillow...was moving? Up. Down. Slow. Rising with steady breaths. You woke up, shifting enough in your spot to alert the person in your bed. Placing a book to the side, Satan rubbed one of your shoulders. Taking a moment to realize what position you were in, you felt your stomach flop once you came to the conclusion that you were lying against Satan’s legs, clinging to his clothes, hand against his lower back, head resting against his stomach. “You alright?” Satan wondered, pressing a hand to your forehead. You didn’t need to speak for him to know the answer. Not really. “I’ll admit, you had me worried for a while there.” He sat up fully, your head sliding back to your pillow--your actual pillow. You quickly retracted your death grip on him, hugging your arms close to your body. If there could be any more heat in your cheeks, there would be. 

Shame creeped into your bones. “S...sorry.” 

His expression brightened a small amount, pleased with the fact that you could speak mostly clearly now, even if your voice did sound ragged. He pulled the blanket back over your shoulders and up near your chin. “Don’t worry about that, just worry about feeling better.” He twisted his body, grabbing something off your nightstand again. “Here, have some more water. Everything I’ve read says that you need to stay hydrated at all times.” You dug your elbow into the mattress, lifting your head enough to not choke as you drank. As Satan lowered the glass, you noticed it was almost completely empty. You didn’t remember drinking that much. Exactly how delusional had you been earlier? How much had you forgotten? You downed the rest of the drink in small sips, lying back down when you were done. 

“Did…” You squeaked. “Did I do anything…” 

“Weird?” Satan finished your sentence for you. “So you don’t remember all of it, I take it?” You shook your head. “You started moaning, hyperventilating. Once you calmed down a bit you collapsed on me and refused to let me go. I figured since I was going to monitor you anyway I would…” A small blush formed on his cheeks. “Hold you till Lucifer got home.”

You looked away from his face, still a bit self conscious. You decided to change the subject. “He’s still gone?” 

Satan’s lips almost curled into a little snarl. “Yes. I have no idea why he’s decided to take his sweet time to-” He cut himself off short, clearing his throat and removing any traces of rage. “Don’t worry about him, I’m sure he’ll be home soon with the medicine.” You felt the top of your head being pet again, tempting you to close your eyes. “Until then, is there anything I can get for you?” You shook your head once more, allowing yourself to indulge in your impulses, moving closer to his body. Despite seeming mostly unaffected by the intimacy earlier, he took in a short sharp breath, lifting his head to the side to hide part of his face. His hand was near your face, tauntingly close, reminding you of how chill his skin was and how good it felt to have him stroke your head. You closed your eyes, bringing your head forward enough to bump against his wrist. A stifled gasp rang through the air before he took a deep breath. “It’s unfortunate that you had to be this sick to…” His sentence trailed off, his hand that you’d ran into pressed against your burning cheeks before brushing against your hair, running down the length of locks before starting again. “Conserve your energy,” he whispered. “Go back to bed.” 

“... … how are they?”

“...still feverish… …sleeping for a long time…” 

“I’ll take over… … get some rest.” 

Soft voices somehow roused you from your deep sleep, the final click of your door leaving you awake. You flitted your eyes open, immediately upset with how dry and crusty they felt. It didn’t help you feel any better when you noticed Lucifer by your bed, busy observing a small cardboard container. He was quick to notice you move, turning his head towards you as you wiped the grime from your eyes with the back of your finger. How embarrassing. Having to be sick, weak, vulnerable, positively distasteful, and in front of the people you thought highly of no less. Memories of Satan flooded back into your mind. Would they all think less of you after this? For how low you’d fallen? For how weak you were? You couldn’t let that happen. What had happened with Satan couldn’t be helped, but from here on out you would do your best to be independent. You adjusted to sit up. 

“What did I say about moving too much?” He scolded, his hand outstretched to settle you back down. You swept his gesture away, sitting up fully and focusing on the item in his hand. A regular box of human world medicine. You reached out for it, and despite being annoyed you’d swatted him away, he handed it to you. The tones of his voice casually shifted from his typical strict nature to low and sweet. “Is...this the one you need?” You glanced it over. Gel pills, daytime and nighttime ones, for cold and flu symptoms. You nodded. He seemed relieved. “It doesn’t happen often, but I was glad for Solomon’s help in picking the proper medicines,” he admitted. “Who knew humans needed so many medications? And you even have entire shops dedicated to them.” He shook his head as a deep frown formed on his face as if he just realized how fragile and complicated human bodies could be. You sighed, agreeing with him in your mind. You were thankful he managed to bring this back though, for as much as you hated proving he was right, you desperately wanted the medicine to ease your aching symptoms. You tried prying the flap open, annoyed when it refused to tear apart. From out of the corner of your eye, you swore you spotted the smallest smirk cross over Lucifer’s face. “Would you like some help?” You grumbled, turning your torso away from him as you attempted again to open the simple package. In slight sadistic fashion, he simply observed you struggle for another few minutes before you tore the box open. Even just working on that had you nearly breathless, but you scrounged up a little triumphant grin. Pulling out one of the bubble sheets, you settled the box back in your lap which Lucifer quickly picked up, returning to read the details printed on the back. “No more than four doses a day,” he announced. “You can take two of those pills now and then wait for four hours before you can take any more.” He read all that out with the confidence of a doctor who knew exactly what he was prescribing. “I want you to check in with me before you decide to take more, understood?” 

You desperately wanted to be snippy about it, but the energy for defense was long gone. Plus, you knew that he needed to have his hands on the reins at all times, and his stubbornness was especially bad when it was a situation he had no control over. “Okay,” you squeaked, pressing your thumb tightly against the foil backing until the pills were free. Dumping them out into your palm, you sighed to yourself once you spotted the empty glass of water from earlier. You’d have to go refill it. 

As soon as you pushed the blankets back and swung your legs out of bed to stand up, Lucifer tightly gripped your shoulders. Normally, he would’ve reacted before the thought even crossed your mind, but your actions must’ve stunned him more than usual. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

Wincing a little, you cleared your throat before you spoke. “I need water.” You tried to get back up, but your weakened strength was no match against Lucifer’s, and he was hardly trying. 

“Then let me get some for you.” Your lips parted to utter out a rebuttal but he’d have none of it. He grasped your ankles, pulling your legs back into bed and folding the covers back over the lower half of your body. He pointed a gloved finger at you. “You’re not to move.” He plucked the empty glass off the tabletop, striding out of your door before you could even try to argue. A low groan rumbled in your chest, your lungs convulsing out a few more coughs. By the time you got your breathing managed again, the demon of pride was back in your room, handing you a fresh glass of water. A deeper frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched ripples form in the liquid as your hand shook. Attempting to stabilize your hold only seemed to make it worse. He reached out, his intention to help you drink. Before he could, you popped both pills in your mouth and grasped at the cup with both hands as you brought the rim to your lips, watching his arm fall dejectedly back to his sides. Even the smooth gel coating went down rough, feeling more like two sharp stones scraping the inside of your esophagus. With your nose more stopped up than usual, by the time you were done drinking you were gasping for air, resulting in coughs again, hard enough to nearly make you gag. Lucifer took the cup from you before you could drop it, settling it on your nightstand. You were bowled over, tears streaming from your eyes. Rare panic crossed over Lucifer’s face, rubbing your back till the coughing fit came to an end. He took a deep inhale once it was over. Then he placed his touch over your forehead again, his thumb gently rubbing against your temple. When he retracted, you nearly let a little moan betray your feelings. You’re supposed to be independent, you reminded yourself. Lucifer shifted in his seat a bit, brandishing another item from his pockets. “We got one of these things as well,” he explained, taking the little item between his fingers and squinting to better study it. “He said it would be useful in monitoring your temperature, but...he failed to explain how it worked.” 

If you were feeling even just a bit better, you would’ve laughed. Lucifer took the thermometer and pointed the end towards your forehead, his eyebrows raised as he waited for something to happen, only to scowl when nothing did. You let a similar cocky expression coat your face as he was the one to struggle with something so simple this time. If only he knew he had the right idea but the wrong type. He’d gotten one of the older fashioned versions. “This kind goes under my tongue,” you explained. 

“Really?” He hummed. “How strange. Seems...messy.” He held the end close to your mouth, his face showing no signs of amusement this time as he waited. You hesitated, your heart beating faster at the emotions swelling in your chest. Independent, independent, independent, you repeated in your mind. Only, you’d caught him in a very impatient mood. With his other hand, he cupped it around your chin, carefully pulling your jaw down till he could slip the end of the thermometer under your tongue. You pressed your lips back together, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. The small device beeped once it got its reading. Lucifer pulled it out and brought it back towards him. “101.4” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair before settling the thermometer down, attempting to guide your body back down in a lying position. 

You stopped him, grabbing his wrist, eyes focusing on anything other than his face. “You don’t...have to do this.” 

He entertained you, fully capable of pushing you down should he desire it, but he let you keep him in your grasp. His eyes narrowed. “What thing in particular are you talking about?” 

Taking as deep of a breath your lungs would allow, you corrected yourself. “You don’t have to take care of me, I mean.” Words strained and cracking, they did little to convince the demon. “I’m well enough to take care of myself. Trust me, I’ve done it plenty before.” 

Distrustful and discouraged, he stiffened, tugging his wrist away. “Be that as it may, while you are down here you are my responsibility. It is part of my duty to ensure you are safe and well looked after. Do you expect me to just walk away from my role?” 

You’ll admit, it wasn’t very rational, but something other than the fever in you burned. “I’m not an assignment to be written off, Lucifer.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that.” His crimson eyes looked down at you for a moment, the air silent between you save for the faint rattling in your chest. Eventually, he spoke back up, the previous forbidding expression gave way to a small smile. He closed his eyes and chuckled a little, taking you aback. “When did you ever get so prideful? Is it too bold to assume it’s my doing?” Then his hand moved forward, unbothered by your past attempt to push him away. He brushed sticky strands of hair away from your face. “If you truly don’t want me here, I will leave.” Your chest seemed to flutter at his words. It wasn’t that you...didn’t want him there. It was that you did. Almost too much. If there was anything you didn’t want, it was to be a hindrance. You knew how busy Lucifer was. His trip to the human world had probably already doubled his workload, and if you were right they’d all  skipped classes for your sake, and- “MC.” He cupped your face, the look on his face told you that he knew everything you were thinking. “Not worrying about anything else, not overthinking it, do you want me here, yes or no? A simple question and two simple options.” 

“I…” You knew the answer, and he did too, trying to hold back his amusement until he could hear the answer for himself. “If...you...want to.” 

He shook his head in a defeated way. “You’re incorrigible, you know that don’t you?” With your acceptance, he took your shoulders, letting you lie down. He took the rag that had fallen off to the side, gently brushing it across your face. Under your eyes, over your cheekbones, under your chin. Then he leaned forward, his upper body resting against your bed, his head propped up under one of his hands. He gazed at you, tracing your jawline with his knuckle. The skin across his cheeks turned a light pink. “Of course I want to be with you. Not a moment goes by that I don’t desire to be at your side.” 

The fast acting medicine and the fact that you’d been so distracted by his peaceful touch, you’d totally missed what he’d told you. “Hm?” You sleepily hummed, too focused on how close his body was to yours. 

“Nothing,” he mused, making sure you were secure under the covers. “I’ll tell you once you’ve recovered. Sleep now.” 

The muscles in your body slowly woke you up, screaming at you to change positions after having slept like a stone for Diavolo-knows how long. Eyes still closed, sleep still foggy on your mind, you turned over in bed. However, even with the smallest amount of alertness you possessed, you were very aware of how...generally upsetting your body felt. Soon it was all you could focus on, forcing you awake. Groaning, mourning the comfort of sleep, you slowly stretched out your weary legs. Your feet pressed against a foreign lump in your bed. 

Mammon shot up, uncurling himself from the foot of your bed as he apparently woke up from a nap. “MC!” He crawled forward, placing both of his hands on the side of your face. “How ya feeling?” His sudden energy left you a bit winded, still trying to comprehend him caressing your face so tenderly. He let his arms drop to your shoulders. You shifted under his gaze, shaking your head. 

“Like garbage…” Hot, sweaty, gross, you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. Mammon frowned, his blue eyes wide and shimmery. He resembled a puppy for just a second, observing your face for any sort of hope that by some miracle you’d fully recovered. When he saw you were still the worst for wear, he sighed, grabbing the covers around you and tucking it against your legs. Only, the blanket wasn’t one that you owned. Running your hands over the fabric, you noticed that this was one of Lucifer’s blankets. It was lighter and cooler than the blanket you had on before. You took in the rest of your room for a moment, noticing more than one thing out of place. Mammon had been resting on one of Belphie’s pillows, one of his new expensive ones. In fact the pillow you had been sleeping on was replaced with one of Sloth’s. On your nightstand, near your box of medicine and a box of tissues was a little diffuser, one you recognized as Asmo’s. A small plume of steam flushed out of the top, a mild comforting scent spreading throughout the space. A book that wasn’t yours, a replica of some sword draped over your table, and a number of other things that had never been between your walls before were littered here and there. You tilted your head. “Where did these things come from?” You wondered.

Mammon lowered his eyelids, his hands on his hips as he settled into a more comfortable seating position beside you. “Listen, my hands get grabby sometimes when I get anxious.” 

You simply blinked at him. “You were worried?” 

His sincere expression changed as he frowned, pink touching his cheeks as he shook his head. “W-well of course! Lucifer would make sure I never saw a lick of Grimm again if something happened to you…” His voice turned to a lower mumble. “And what, you thought I wouldn’t be worried after watching you take a spill like that? Had me thinking you’d bit the dust for a second!” His eyes flickered around the room as if he was making sure you two were truly alone. Then he leaned past you, fluffing up the pillow you had been laying on. As he straightened, he pressed his hand against your forehead, his body temperature much warmer than Lucifer’s. “Never make me that worried again, yeah? I...You see...Just don’t, okay?” 

You hummed an affirming tone, nodding, a small smile creeping across your mouth. Then after the moment had passed, you shifted in your spot. You felt disgusting even after all that effort to take a shower this morning. Lucifer did say not to move too much, but right now you wanted to be clean more than anything. Pushing back the blankets encouraged a similar reaction to Lucifer’s earlier. 

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?!” Mammon scurried to his feet, standing in front of you with his arms wide to block you from moving, even though you had yet to even leave the bed. “Bed rest means staying in bed last I checked!” 

“Please, Mammon, I just want to take a shower, I’m grimy and gross. I feel like an over-steamed dumpling.” 

“Don’t let Beel hear you say that.” You managed to stand up, but your sense of balance left much to be desired. On instinct you ended up grabbing Mammon’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “Alright, nuh uh, you can barely move! What if you end up falling and cracking that head of yours open, huh?” Your mind was brought back to your morning mishap and near tumble in the shower from before. “You’re lucky you didn’t injure yourself too badly earlier!” 

Your eyes widened. “H-how did you know about that? I don’t remember telling anyone.” 

His eyebrows raised. “I’m talking about the dining hall, dummy. But now that you’ve let that little detail slip there’s not any chance I’ll let you go now! No way.” He put one arm under yours to keep you steady, ready to keep you back in bed for good. 

Gathering up what little energy you had, you took several deep breaths, gently pushing yourself away from his body until you were standing on your own, just barely stable. “Mammon, please?” It had been your goal up until now to look as far from pathetic as possible, yet now you poured all that into your expression, eyes pleading, head tilted a bit to the side. 

He squirmed. “Tch, you think you can do whatever you want just by giving me some puppy-eyes? Who do you think I am?”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I bet Asmo would let me take a shower. Maybe I should call him and have him take care of me instead.” 

“Asmo?! I...you...fine! But I’m c-coming with you, to make sure you stay safe and all.” 

You lowered your eyes at him. “You can stay outside the bathroom.” 

“I’m not payin’ for a busted door if I need to break in. I’m going inside! I’ll just turn around or somthin’.” 

He stared you down with a nature stubborn enough to match your own. In your state now, you had little time to squabble. “Fine.” You started walking, leaning against bits of furniture to keep you steady. Acting rather gentlemanly, Mammon rushed ahead of you to open your door. Once he did, he took your arm tucked against his in a sort of escorting fashion. Saying nothing, you both took steady silent steps to the bathroom. You were immensely pleased to find it unoccupied, leaving Mammon’s side to step in. Like he promised he would, he followed you inside, shutting the door before his cheeks turned dark with embarrassment. He turned, parking himself in a corner with his face to the wall. 

“I-I’ll be right here in case something happens, alright?” For him to come this far for you was...The added heat rushing through your body only caused you to feel worse, so you flicked on the water to heat up as you stripped. As you were taking off your pants, balancing on one leg, you teetered to the side, nearly falling. The tub right next to you served as your saving grace. You panted, cursing at yourself for being so clumsy. “You alright?!” Mammon clasped his hands over his face before turning around. “MC?” Riddled with nervous anxiety, he danced back and forth on his feet. 

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. Just barely. You planted your foot against the fabric of your pants, tugging your other leg out. “Just keep looking at that wall.” You questioned the idea of him being in here at first, but now you were beginning to have little trust in yourself. What if you did collapse, locked, exposed inside an empty room till someone came looking for you? You shuddered. Climbing into the shower, you pulled the curtains across the rod until you were completely concealed. You let out a breath of relief as the steam once again cleared up your airways, the pressure building up in your head loosening. Shutting your eyes, you let the water wash over you, cleaning off the sticky sweat that had clung to your body. You simply stood there for a few moments, appreciating the serenity. Then you figured it would be best to get yourself clean while you had the capacity to. Reaching down for the soaps you used, you washed your hair and vigorously scrubbed down your body, envisioning all the germs swirling down the drain. Although by the time you were done, you became aware of the fact that you might’ve made the water a bit too hot, and you might’ve once again pushed yourself a little too far. Nausea came along with the dizziness, the floor losing it’s feeling of solidity. After you turned the water off, you tore the shower curtain back, stepping onto the bathroom mat. 

“You done?” Mammon asked. Right now, all you could do was grunt in response. The small burst of energy you possessed had plummeted. You bypassed the towels and straight for your clothes. Only, the clothes you had been wearing previously were gone. On cue, Mammon explained. “Oh I got you some pajamas. Not good to be lying in those same clothes all day, besides, I got you something comfier.” Folded up on the floor by the tub were a comfortable pair of your pajamas. Pushing aside your humiliation, you picked up the “pajamas” he’d picked out for you. One of your shorts and...one of his t-shirts. It was one he had bought on a whim, much like most of his other purchases. Merch from an action movie you and him had watched in the theaters a while ago. He loved this thing. You could only stare at it for a few seconds. Mammon was right, these would be much nicer to sleep in. 

With a meek voice you started slipping into the new outfit, still dripping. “T-thank you.” You had hardly finished poking your head through the shirt before your knees began to tremble. Your head felt foggy, your mind threatening to slip. “M-Mammon,” you gulped, your voice shaking. 

He spun around, eyes squeezed shut. “What? What is it? Are you bleeding? Are you hurt? Are you dressed? Can I look?” As soon as you ‘mm-hm’ed he flashed his eyes open, took in the sight of your shuddering frame before hurrying over to you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head for a moment, the world disappearing as you plummeted to the floor. You woke up in his arms hardly a few seconds after your fainting spell. Held tightly against his body, he wrapped his limbs around you, supporting you to keep you upright. “Hey, hey!” His voice shook as he squeezed you. “MC!” 

“ ‘s too...hot.” 

“Stupid human…” He muttered, his rugged tone falling short. “And you’re still drenched! Are you trying to make yourself even worse?” When his sharp remarks were met with your silence, he pulled you closer. “Ah...Really not good, huh?” He asked softly, one of his hands rubbing your back. You could only slowly shake your head. “Let’s get you back to bed, eh?” He brushed some damp hair away from your face before he dragged you out the door, his distress growing ever more visible the more you seemed to slump harder against him. It felt like an eternity inching back to your room, flopping facedown onto your bed as soon as it was in your sights. The mattress bobbed up and down, the movement surprisingly soothing, almost lulling your body to a light sleep right then and there. “Alright, come on. It’ll do you no good to fall asleep like that.” Mammon helped lift you up, letting you settle your head against his body, arms wrapped around his neck as he worked to get you back under the covers. He tucked you in, moving about the room nervously the less responsive you became. Shutting your eyes to conserve some energy, you listened to him curse under his breath, grumbling to himself about “fragile humans”. At some point, a dry fabric came into contact with the top of your head. You were pushed slightly to make some space for him to sit down. He adjusted you till your head was in his lap, the fabric massaging against your wet hair. “Stupid human…” He repeated, softly scrubbing the towel against your scalp. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself sick, huh?” 

“...didn’t...mean to...I’m sorry…” 

The motions across your head stopped, then you felt the back of his hand stroke against your cheek. “Now don’t sound like that...Do you know how much it hurts me to see ya like this?” He paused and then resumed ensuring your hair was as dry as he could get it. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be right here for you till you feel better, alright?” His voice sounded strained. “So ya better get better…” You cracked your eyes open, pushing yourself up. “What’re you doing? I-“ He quickly cut himself off as soon as you settled yourself between his legs, head against his chest. You could hear his throat casually gasp for breath. His nose came down to nestle against the top of your head, his arms dropping the towel, instead wrapping around your body. “Don’t do this for anyone but me, ya hear? Only I...only I want to take care of you like this.” He pulled the blanket up around the both of you, his soft breaths growing deeper and deeper. Eventually you both fell asleep. 

Your mind was flooded with more fever dreams, clips and scenes of moments your conscious mind wouldn’t even know how to explain. It blurred the line between what was real and what was simply your imagination, so in the moment, when you were disturbed from your sleep, you didn’t even react. Your body was moved, flipped over, weightless, moved from the soft surface you were on to something firmer. You could only process it for a mere second before you were plunged back into a nonsensical plot your frayed mind came up with. After what felt like some time, you were just barely awoken again when harsh and hushed whispers buzzed in your ears. 

“They shouldn’t be down here!” 

“So cute! I mean, poor thing.” 

“Are they still asleep?”

“Take them back.” 

Once you realized that this was real, you slowly became aware of more things around you. As tired numbness left your limbs, you felt your arms pinned against your body, something around you constricted your movement. Panic struck you for only just a second, feeling that your blanket was simply wrapped around your body. You figured in your restless state you must’ve trapped yourself inside it. An involuntary groan escaped your mouth as you squirmed a little, moving your feet in an attempt to feel an escape. 

Something outside of you moved you, tugging you tighter against something firm, a pressure rubbing circles into your back. It soothed you enough to keep you from struggling, but you were steadily waking up. The “wall” you were against vibrated as a deep voice rumbled out of it. “I just thought...it wouldn’t feel like a family dinner without them.” Your body was adjusted again, lifted to be propped up against what you now understood was a torso. One strong arm kept you still, draped against your back. 

“S-surely you can’t hold them and eat at the same time, Beel,” someone muttered. “Why don’t you let your big bro hold em?” 

The body holding you tightened around you, shielding you. “No.” 

“Don’t underestimate him.” 

“Should we wake them up?” 

“Don’t humans heal faster when they sleep?”

Someone else let out an exhausted breath. “Fine, but they’re to be put back in bed once you’re done.” 

The chest your head was against hummed with satisfaction. “Got it.” Soon, quiet but eager eating noises could be heard outside your muffled prison. If you connected the dots correctly, you were resting against Beel who had brought you down to dinner while you had been asleep. Was this a brief glance into what Belphie felt like? Albeit with more comfort and less...pain. Although he’d probably beg to differ. Right now, you couldn’t even pinpoint where the source of your suffering was coming from. It just seemed to be...all over, even down to the tips of your fingers. Even if you had wanted to move, you didn’t have the energy for it, so despite being almost wide awake at this point, you stayed in place. You tried to focus on anything else to keep your mind off the aching. Beel’s heart sounded like a distant drum. Burying your face closer against his body, you let out a small whimper, focusing on the melodic thumping of his healthy heart. You could even hear the pace speed up as your cheek pressed up against him. 

“Beel, you alright?” 

The sound of eating stopped, and a clink of something metallic against glass sounded before a second arm enveloped you, a hand settled at the back of your head. “I’ll eat in a little bit,” Beel whispered. 

“In a--” 

“Shhhh! Shut up, Mammon!” 

“I mean…” The voice returned to barely audible. “Whadda sayin’ ‘in a bit’? You’re not sick again are ya?” Beel didn’t grace anyone with a response. You were gently squeezed in his hug, a weight coming down on top of your head, presumably his chin. The hand behind your head moved to the space between your shoulder blades, moving up and down in rhythmic strokes along your spine. It was uncanny, you thought, how he almost immediately knew how desperate you were for some comfort. Or maybe he was just perceptive like that. If anyone would be, it would be Beel. 

“How are they feeling?” Someone asked. 

Cooler air poured against your face as the space left for you to breathe was made wider. Light from the dining hall illuminated outside your eyelids. Beel’s hand pressed against your forehead, moving down to cup your cheeks. Out of everyone, he always ran the warmest, bordering on nearly being a walking furnace. And yet even he moaned in unease, his stomach groaning alongside him in worry. “Still too hot,” he announced. You allowed yourself to flicker your eyes open, looking up at him just as he moved his hand away. Both his eyebrows raised in surprise before he quickly frowned. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.” You figured that now that everyone knew you were up, it would be time to move. Sitting up straighter in your spot, you wiggled one of your arms out of your cocoon, pulling the fabric of your blanket off your head, letting it settle around your waist. You rubbed spots out from your vision, blinking as you soaked in the sight of the room. 

Asmo politely dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, settling it back in his lap before addressing you with the sweetest pair of eyes. “Good evening, darling! How’re you feeling?” 

You had half of a mind to try to play the “I’m fine” card, but with your fit with Satan and fainting scare with Mammon, it would be no use to even try to pretend you were fine. So you didn’t see the harm in being honest. “Like I’ve been to hell and back.” 

“You are in hell,” Belphie quipped. 

“You know what I mean.” You turned your head and glanced up, your heart pounding more prominently when you once again realized just how big Beel was compared to you, an otherworldly size. Sweeping away your embarrassment, you started tugging at the blanket to free your legs, moving to leave his lap. “Sorry, Beel.” 

His hand grabbed one of your wrists. “What do you mean?” He tugged at you, repositioning you firmer in his lap. “You didn’t do anything.” His beautiful amethyst irises stared right into yours. “I wanted you here. Meals aren’t the same without you.” He pat the top of your head, letting his fingers scratch gently into your scalp. In most situations, you’d find your open vulnerability to be embarrassing, but right now you couldn’t care less. You leaned back into him, nestling your nose into his chest, using his body to block out the light. Beel gripped the blanket and pulled it back up to settle around your shoulders. 

“Speaking of meals,” Lucifer started. “It’s about time MC had something to eat.” 

Satan spoke up. “Do we even have anything decent enough for sick humans to have?” The brothers went back and forth for a while, bringing recommendations hypothetically to the table about what would be best for you. 

“Belphie knows the most about humans, what do you think?” Beel wondered. 

A lone monotone hum rang out for a moment. “I think it was stew or something like that.” 

A strange bout of irritation drilled in you. You turned your head, addressing the group. “You know you could just ask the human right here. I might be sick but I’m not completely helpless.” 

Brusque tones usually granted you grating glares, but even Lucifer seemed to give you a pass. “So?” The eldest questioned. “Tell us what you need and we can get it for you.” 

Something about that knocked the rebellious wind out of you. You lowered your head a bit and sighed. “Don’t even worry about it, I’m not hungry anyway.” A bold statement to claim whilst sitting in the lap of Gluttony. 

Shaking you lightly, Beel squinted at you. “You’ve barely eaten all day.” The expression on his face turned Lucifer levels of stern. It wasn’t an appearance he took too often. Even now you knew this was a losing battle. A flash of a memory popped up in your mind, one of when Beel had been sick. You pressed your lips together into a thin line. 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Beel--” 

“MC. Eat.” His flat tone trembled throughout his body, sending a shudder through you. Lucifer was always strict, so it never caught you off guard, not anymore. But when Beel got this way it pierced through everyone in the room. As if they’d been the one commanded, everyone took a single bite of their meal. 

You gave in, your stature shrinking. “Fine...something light then. Soup’s fine. I’ll go get some…” 

Beel’s arms wrapped around you again, keeping you to him. “No you won’t. Levi.” 

The third-born almost yelped, sinking down into his seat before stuttering. “S-sure, I-I’ll get it…” As he headed to the kitchen you could hear him grumble. “Of course he had to pick me. Why me? It’s always me…” You felt a bit sorry for the otaku as he slunk away. In fact you almost felt sorry for everyone in the room. Even just alluding to the skip of a meal had Beel suddenly tense, on alert. He had you held against him in a guarded manner, his torso bent forward to lean over what he could of yours. He didn’t settle back down till Levi came back in a handful of minutes later, resting a bowl of soup in front of you. It was of human origins you assumed, it looked like regular chicken noodle. The aroma had bits of nostalgia bubble within you. And now that it was here, you hated to admit that you actually were hungry. 

You reached over to try to grab a spoon, falling just a bit short of the table’s edge. Beel’s arms were admittedly much longer than yours, not needing to sit as close as you usually did. Beel grasped a clean utensil for you, getting a decent portion of stock in it’s dip. He held his other hand under the spoon to make sure he didn’t spill any, then he brought it over to you. Did you try to deny it? Maybe a little, but Beel’s spine-chilling glower had you reconsider. You opened your mouth and let him feed you. The hot broth slid down your sore throat easily, relieving some of the pain. As it warmed you up from the inside, Beel finally went back to smiling, everyone breathing in relief. “See, doesn’t it make you feel better?” Beel brought a new spoonful to your lips. 

You swallowed again and admittedly nodded. “A bit.” 

Out of the blue, Beel brought his face down, planting a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Some of his siblings gasped, but if the demon of gluttony heard it, he pretended he hadn’t. His free hand went back to rubbing your back, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice, the many sensations driving some of the pain from your mind. “Good,” Beel beamed. “Remember, your body needs fuel to keep going.” 

“I know…” The parallel between now and when he had been sick was almost perfect. Beel took the bowl in his hands, bringing it over to settle in your lap, keeping it steady in his hold. “Isn’t it hot?” You asked, worried he’d burn his skin. 

“Not to me,” he assured you. 

You sighed, taking the spoon from him so you could eat yourself. “Thank you for always looking out for me, Beel.”

You expected him to be pleased, but he quickly turned downcast. “I couldn’t protect you from this.” Heart breaking, all you could do was stare down into your lap, watching the broth gently swirl in the bowl. This had mostly been your fault. If you had done something just a bit differently, maybe…

“No, Beel, that wasn’t your fault,” Belphie spoke up, pushing his plate with his leftovers on it closer to his twin to finish. “Besides, it’s your job now to take care of MC now more than ever, right?” 

Beel turned his head away from the food, peering down at you in his lap. He nodded once, bringing his head down to press his forehead to yours. “You’re right. Sick or not, I’ll always watch over them.” 

After dinner, Beel carried you back up to bed, reluctant to let you be free of his arms, but he managed. After giving you one last once-over and another little kiss to your temple, he hurried back down to the dining hall. After all, he was far from having his fill of food. Lucifer had followed the two of you inside, taking your temperature once more. 100.7, still higher than he’d prefer it to be, but glad to discover it had gone down even if just by a hair. He allowed you to take some medicine and urged you to get some more rest. Flicking the light off, he wished you sweet dreams before he left, torn away from you by work he couldn’t ignore. Although, even with the comfort of your bed and the satisfying feeling of something warm in your belly, for the first time, slumber eluded you. It wasn’t that you weren’t tired--exhaustion might as well have been your permanent state at this point--but shutting your mind off, drifting away into peaceful bliss didn’t seem like an option right now. 

You spent a few hours on your D.D.D. scrolling through posts and web-pages, anything to keep you occupied. Although, that eventually bored you after a while. You sat up, trying to not let the loneliness of your empty room consume you. Had everyone gone to bed already? Had you already gotten used to falling asleep with someone beside you? That couldn’t be the case, right? You slowly got out from under your covers, padding over to the door. Maybe if you walked around the House of Lamentation enough, you’d be able to go to bed. You were feeling a bit better, capable of moving around on your own at the very least. You entered the empty hallway, the midnight moon rays creeping across the rug settled across the stone floor. The branches outside the windows cast twisted shadows across the corridor. Some people might’ve found it dreadful, but whether it was your own stranger tastes or the fact that you’d been down here so long, you found it to be serene in a mystical sort of way. 

Drifting through the halls like a weary ghost patrolling the perimeter, you wandered past each of the brother’s rooms. The house was surprisingly still. Before you knew it, you ended up in the music room. Shifting your feet towards the gorgeous ebony piano, your fingers brushed lightly over the ivory keys. Pushing down a low B, the note reverberated through the room, your skin tingling at the broken silence. It quenched some of your boredom. So you pushed another one, the lowest note this time, the deep tone rumbling through you. 

“Having fun are we?” 

You jumped, every hair across your body standing up on end. Swirling around, you met a pair of ruby eyes in the shadows. A string of curses left your lips. “What in hell’s name are you doing, Lucifer? Nearly scared me to death…” You pressed a hand to your beating chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You sunk to your knees, the wind knocked out of you. 

He stepped further into the light, arms crossed, almost fuming. “I could ask you the same question. Once again I have to wonder, what are you doing out of bed? Are you that determined not to recover, is that it?” Hair slightly messy, well-tailored pajamas barely creased, you figured he must’ve just gotten out of bed, possibly disturbed before he could fall asleep. It would explain the death glare he was giving you. 

“I...couldn’t sleep,” you answered truthfully, followed by an innocent little shrug. 

With two fingers, he pinched at the bridge of his nose. “And so Levi just let you waltz around on your own?” 

You tilted your head. “Levi?” 

Something dawned on him with your confused question. A terrifying smile arched over his face, the corners twitching as the small amount of light in the room was snuffed out by his menacing aura. “Leviathan…” Yelping at the sudden movement, Lucifer hoisted you over one of his shoulders, gliding across the floor at a ridiculous pace until he was in front of Levi’s room. You wiggled, beating a gentle fist against Lucifer’s back. 

“Let me down!” 

He let you slide off of him, settling you back on your feet, but he quickly grasped one of your hands to keep you to his side. Despite his furious demeanor, he gently knocked on the door, waiting for approximately two seconds before knocking harder. “Levi!”

You heard the otaku approach his door before he swung it open. “What?! I’m in the middle of a very important raid! What could you possibly need--” The entrance to the room cracked open, Levi sticking his head out before all the color drained from his face. The tangerine hue of his eyes flickering from you to his older brother, the demon with paper-thin patience. Levi gulped, the little bump in his throat bobbing.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I inform you that you would be keeping an eye on MC tonight?” The higher lilt in his question was laced with hostility. “Or maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” You felt a pang of guilt for the demon of envy. 

“Lucifer,” you urged, tugging at his hand which kept you in a vice grip. “I’ll go back to bed, it’s not an issue.” He was ready to blow a gasket, the weariness of dealing with work and keeping his brother’s shenanigans at bay without your assistance clearly was affecting him. Who knew he’d come to depend on you this much? You reached up, rubbing his shoulder with the sweetest look you could come up with. “Please, don’t be angry.” 

Shutting his eyes, squeezing your hand, he gave himself time to breathe. “MC, rest. Levi, take care of them. And no, I’m not asking.” The dark circles under Lucifer’s eyes almost seemed to run blacker, his irises duller than they should’ve been. 

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” you comforted him. “Go get some sleep yourself.” 

His shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “The sick shouldn't be fussing over the hale and whole, you know, but I will. I shall see you tomorrow.” He brought your hand up, kissing it before he let it go. “And, Levi.” The demon of envy flinched, hoping that he’d been forgotten. “I’ll see you tomorrow as well.” 

Levi hung his head low as his older brother walked away, preemptively sniffling at his possible doom. “...and my raid is ruined…T-this is just the worst.” You were a bit sorry for Levi for being thrown at you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder in the back of your mind if he...had forgotten about you. You watched the outline of Lucifer disappear into the darkness before you shivered. The temperature inside the house was dropping. “Huh?” Levi snapped out of his pitiful thoughts. “Are you-are you cold?” 

“A little…” 

“O-oh, I guess...maybe...Would it be alright if you stayed in my room tonight?” His stance shifted behind his door, anxiously moving his gaze around to keep from making direct eye contact with you. 

Sighing, you nodded. After all, with the adrenaline crash, you doubted you had energy left to walk back to your room. “Sure.” 

He let you in, shutting the door behind you and locking it with a magical charm to keep the riff-raff out. He scurried over to his tub-bed, pulling out some random plush collectibles, and letting them rest against the floor for now. He spun on his feet for a moment, taking in his room before bringing his thumb up to bite on the nail of it. “Y-you can stay anywhere, I have some blankets I guess...Gah! Why did Lucifer have to make me watch you?” The heart in your chest sank a bit, and you lowered your head, a small “oh” leaving your lips. Clutching his hair, Levi immediately regretted what he said. “No! No no no no, that’s-that’s not what I-I-I--” He stuttered for a good while, unable to grasp proper control of his tongue. “Wait, wait!” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he picked up one last Ruri-Chan plush from the bed, covering part of his face with it. “I just...I don’t remember the last time I took care of someone sick…Knowing me, I-I’ll somehow make you worse! What-what if I’m forced to make a split second decision that could be the-the difference between life and death?! I’ll end up killing you! Living the rest of my life in isolated drunken regret!” 

He quickly spiraled down a slippery slope of what-ifs, a dramatic fantasy playing out before him where he’d been cast out of the Devildom as your murderer, a disgusting vagabond, living on wildberries and wildlife with naught but his loneliness and shadow to keep him company. His rising anxiety was making him hyperventilate. You had to come over to him, gently take his shoulders and shake him slightly, dragging him back to reality. “Levi, I highly, highly doubt it will come to that. When Lucifer means ‘take care of me’ he mostly means making sure I have what I need.” You gave the sides of his arms a little rub. 

“But I don’t know what you need!” 

“Well, what I need right now is for you to calm down, first off,” you told him, dropping your hands back to your sides, gripping the end of the tub. Climbing into his bed had never really been an issue before, but hoisting yourself over the edge proved difficult a task. You felt his shaky hands come under your arms, hoisting you enough till you could sink yourself into his nest of pillows. You grinned, thanking him as you reached up to rub the top of his head. “See? Stuff like that, nothing too difficult. Fetch quests and escort missions. Easy mode. I’ll be here, just do your own thing.” 

That seemed to ease him enough. He gripped one of his blankets and pulled it over you, moving back over to his desk. Muttering about the raid, he clacked at the keys, his mood steadily improving the more he lost himself in the world of gaming. You felt at the fabric of your pants, remembering with a small moan that they didn’t have pockets...meaning you’d left your D.D.D. in your room. Figures, you thought. So, in your last ditch effort to stay entertained, you moved Levi’s pillows around, making a small wall to prop yourself against, peering over the top of the basin to stare at his screen. You watched his character move around, fighting random enemies. He was completely absorbed, lightly talking to himself as he moved along, humming the victory theme anytime a quest was completed. At one point, he was paying too much attention to a beautifully fleshed out character model to notice what they were telling him, information that he needed to know but missed out on. After that, he was sent towards a boss that ended up instantly killing him when it finished charging up its “claymore of chaos’ move. Levi tried one more time, then three more times, and then about twenty. “What the heck?! How am I supposed to beat you?!” Levi finally shouted, pushing himself slightly away from his desk. 

Speaking up for the first time in a few hours, you shared with him the information he missed. “You’re supposed to use your Mystical Missile spell.” 

He jumped, almost falling out of his chair. “I thought you were asleep!” 

“I still can’t sleep…I don’t know why.” You pulled your blanket tighter around you, peeking at him from your spot. A blush ran over his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Oh...Really? Mystical Missile? But it’s a trashy beginner spell.” 

“That NPC lady said it would work, I dunno.” You shrugged. “Try it out, it can’t hurt.” 

So he did, removing one of his high level skills to equip the basic one. Severely doubting success, he entered the boss arena again. It was admittedly tense, keeping you both on the edge of your seat. Once “claymore of chaos” was building, Levi let the spell fly towards him. The boss staggered, a crack forming in it’s armor. “It worked!” He shouted, yelping as a new flurry of enemy spells flew towards his character.  If it was entertainment you were looking for, you found it, cheering him on as he hunched over, focused on his every move. Once it went down, you both whooped and cheered. It had been a bit too much for your lungs, dissolving into some coughs. Levi rushed to his feet, rubbing your back. “You okay?” 

You nodded, letting your body shudder with a few more hacks till it was done. Voice more hoarse than before, you still smiled at him. “You did it!” 

A laugh bubbled out of him. “Victory! Dun dun dun! Legendary item acquired!” Then his expression fell for a second. “Have you just been sitting there, watching me the whole time?” You nodded. He gripped one of his hoodie sleeves. “Would you rather do something...together?” 

You brightened. “Sure!” 

Giddy, he hurried over to the computer, picking up his loot before saving the game, closing the program. “If you’re in the mood for watching something, how about this new anime I found? I’m only a few episodes in, but I can start over! It’s called ‘I Transferred To A New School, But Everyone There Is Part Of The Elite, So I Have To Try And Keep Up With My Classmates Despite Me Being Normal, But I Accidentally Fooled The School Into Thinking I’m A Long Lost Heir To A Forgotten Throne’.” 

Blinking, you stared at him. “You lost me at Elite.” Why the Devildom had anime with titles the length of chapters, you’d never know. 

“It’s good! I promise!” He shifted his monitor so you could see it from your spot easier, turning the anime on with an elated aura, much nicer than the gloom-and-doom one from earlier. This was the Levi you loved to see, the one you tried to cherish as much as you could. He sat in his chair, scooting back till he was beside you so you could watch it together. It was a cute anime, something mostly a slice of life, a normal main character in a school setting surrounded by powerful beings, the plot moved forward with magical shenanigans...something about it sounded familiar. One of the episodes showed the main character fallen ill under some strange circumstance, their roommate they stayed with flustered but determined to take care of them. The friend--and obvious love interest--asked if he could hold the protagonist’s hand. Levi made a little noise. “MC, c-can I hold your hand? I mean, if that’s super weird don’t even listen to me because who would even want to hold hands with me anyway and--” 

“Sure,” you smiled, reaching your hand out from the blanket a little. 

He hesitated for a second and then took it, resuming to watch the show. Much to your amusement, any move the character made, he made as well, taking it as if it were some sort of guide. He brushed the hair from your face, made sure the blanket was tucked gently around you, ensured you were comfortable. Then, the friend in the show made a bold move, snuggling next to the main character as they both fell asleep. Levi went stiff, becoming extremely flustered. You had to admit, the concept was...enticing, and you almost leapt at any opportunity to tease envy. You tugged at his hand, making him look at you with your arms outstretched. If this had been an anime, he would’ve collapsed, his soul flying from his mouth. But even Levi couldn’t resist the temptation. He stepped into his bed, slowly, warily at first. He let you take him into your arms, wrapping his own body around you as you both squeezed together in the tub. “I...I...This is...a dream…” 

You chuckled, settling your head on his chest, feeling his motoring heart pound in his chest. “Let’s watch some more, Levi.” Only, you hardly remembered anything after that. For shortly after he curled against you, the strange barrier keeping you awake completely collapsed. He had draped the blanket over you both, fidgeting with the hair at the nape of your neck. You must’ve turned your head against him, comforted enough by his presence to fall asleep.

“Medicine?” 

“Right here.” 

“Water?” 

“You brought me like a gallon’s worth.” 

“D.D.D.?” 

“You can see it in my hands.” 

Lucifer went down the list, the actual written list he’d come up. You sat in bed, trying hard not to blush and squirm under the many gazes in your room this morning. “Extra blankets?” 

“I have everything and anything needed to last an entire week in solitary!” You shook your head, a little irate at each of them, but appreciating their concern all the same. Icepacks, blankets, snacks, water, bandages, and many other things were brought in your room in preparation. “You all are only going to a Student Council meeting, not off on some lengthy business trip.” 

“Absolutely right!” Asmo shouted, sitting next to you in bed, hugging you to him and caressing your cheek against his. “It’s some stupid meeting anyway, which means one of us can stay can’t we?” 

Every member of the household was already shouting reasons why they and they alone should have the opportunity to stay with you. Lucifer’s little vein above his eyebrow throbbed. “Enough!” The room went silent. “As much as I would love to permit myself to stay home,” he cleared his throat, “not a single one of us can miss today’s meeting. Which is why I’m taking every precaution. EDP?” 

You gently pushed Asmo off of you, raising an eyebrow. The demon of lust pouted, stroking your head instead. “What’s an EDP?” You asked. 

“An EDP is a short term we use for an Emergency Defense Pillar,” Satan explained. “A popular and fairly new little device in the Devildom, especially for lesser magic users or those who aren’t trained in combat.” 

“I’m still at a loss,” you admitted. “Is it like a baton or something?” 

Rummaging around in his pockets, Mammon brandished a small black object. It was cylindrical, about as big as a lighter, a glowing red button on the side. “I brought it! Now, let me teach you, human. If you’re being chased or cornered, this handy lil’ doodad is going to be essential if you wanna escape. You just push this little button here, and--” 

Lucifer’s chest tightened. “Mammon, don’t!” 

The second born pressed the button, his mistake just now clicking in his mind, chucking it a bit in front of him. Asmo grabbed you and tucked you against his chest, pushing your back to the wall while he shielded you with his body. Every other brother hit the floor, jumping away from the object. A huge pillar of fire sprouted from the object, swirling blue flames emitting intense heat as well as a roaring sound. It nearly burnt your eyes. Asmo tucked your head into his shoulder, waiting until the fire was suddenly sucked back into the small container, rattling against the floor. Your protector pulled away from you, letting you stare at the pitch black circle burnt into your ceiling and floor, a round chunk taken out of your carpet, some fibers still flickering. Lucifer came over and snuffed out the singed pieces with his shoe, the vein in his head more prominent. He was about to shout but you beat him to it. “That’s absolutely unnecessary! In what scenario would I need to use that?! Is there even a safety on that thing?!” 

A little sheepish, Mammon picked himself back up off the floor. “Well, you’ve gotten the best visual example you can get. You’re welcome.” 

“I don’t want it, someone take it with them,” you groaned. “What if I end up accidentally getting flame-broiled in my sleep?”  

Beel closed his eyes. “Flame-broiled hell bats…” 

Lucifer bent down and picked up the EDP from the floor. “Perhaps this is a bit too dangerous.” 

“Glad we can see eye to eye on that one…” You tapped the screen of your D.D.D., noticing that the time to the meeting was rapidly approaching. “You guys have fifteen minutes! Stop worrying about me and get out of here!” 

Many wide-eyed demons scrambled to get out your door, knowing that the punishment for being late was not something they wanted to risk. Even Lucifer was rushed, booking it out of your room. Then he popped his head in. “You’ll call if anything happens?” 

“Yes.” 

He left again, the door shutting. It burst back open, his overprotective nature coming to light. “You have your alerts on, right?” 

You chuckled, you couldn’t prevent yourself from doing so. “Yes, mother hen, now go!” He growled, but this time left for good, the uproar from the group slowly fading away. Once more, you shook your head, staring at the charcoal colored circle against your ceiling. “They’re insane,” you stated aloud. 

“Truly,” someone replied. You yelped, chucking the closest pillow at the sudden voice. Solomon caught it, laughing. “Sorry for startling you. The demons are gone, I’m assuming?” He walked back over, handing you your plushy ammo. 

“They just left. Why are you here?” You took the pillow from him, settling it in your lap as you crossed your legs over your mattress. 

He pulled an upset face. “Why do you sound so suspicious? I’m here to check up on you. I had to make sure those demons were taking care of you properly.” He grabbed a chair from your table, scooting up by the bedside. He spotted the hard-to-miss burns and sighed. “Maybe I should’ve gotten here sooner. Oh well, an easy fix. Spirits of twine and stone, turn back the time to whence this matter was well known, heed the Sorcerer Solomon!” Flowing restorative magic rushed over the floor and ceiling, soaking into the atoms, leaving it as perfect as it had been earlier. Actually, almost better than how it had been before. Not even the smell of burning remained. In a small flourish, he stretched out his hands. “Ta-da.” 

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “And the brothers have been taking care of me just fine. I don’t have a fever anymore.” 

He reached his hand out, thumb brushing across your face, he hummed to himself before pulling you gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. You gasped a little, covering your mouth as your face burned. He sat back, nodding. “You feel much better.” He caught your expression, trying to stifle a smirk. “Hm? I was simply taking your temperature.” 

Composing yourself, you tightly gripped the pillow in your hands. “Kinda an old method, don’t you think?” 

“I prefer traditional practices,” he shared. “But that wasn’t the main reason I came over.” 

“Oh?” You’ll admit, at first the EDP had seemed utterly ridiculous, but in this dreaded scenario, you almost wished to have it in your hands. Solomon pushed back his cloak, reaching behind his back and pulling out a fresh steaming plate of food. Already you felt sweat bead across your face. “A-ah, how nice of Simeon to make me something.” It was more of a personal wish, although you knew that it wasn’t going to be the case. 

“Not Simeon, actually. I made it!” He beamed, completely oblivious. “How long has it been since you’ve had a home-cooked human meal?” 

“N-not too long ago actually, and-I-um-the brothers made sure to feed me before they left so-” 

“Surely you can have a few bites, right?” He pleaded. “I made sure to add all kinds of ingredients I know have some healing properties, so I’m sure it’ll enhance the flavor. Here, no need to waste extra energy, let me feed you. Say ah.” 

“MC!” The sound of someone frantically calling your name in the distance slowly brought you to. “MC!” Something snapped as you moved, pain coursing through your entire body. You opened your eyes, not able to see much through the leaves. Wait...leaves? The smell of earth and roses rushed to your nose. That and the thorns trapping you and piercing you were enough to tell you what you needed to know. You were somehow entangled in a rose bush. The voice sounded again, closer this time. “MC, where are you?!” 

Audio recognition kicked in, able to place the voice. Tilting your head back, you put all the power you could into your shout. “Belphie!” There was silence for a while, and white hot panic settled in your stomach...or maybe that was. Oh that was right…

Suddenly the leaves were pulled back, Belphie’s head staring down at you. “This is new for you.” 

You tried to move, but your clothes were stuck in the thorn’s clutches, not to mention any movement you made drove the bush’s claws deeper into your skin. “I…I think I’m stuck.” 

“Wow, that really sucks for you.” 

“Belphie!” You tried sitting up, a sharp pain in your cheek causing you to hiss, drawing in breath through your teeth. Something drifted down your cheek, the taste of bitter copper coming across your lips. Blood. “P-please help me.”

“I was only joking. Don’t move, you’ll make things worse.” He tugged at some of the branches, the disruption poking you some more. Tugging at your sleeve, he detangled your shoulder, working on your lower arm next. 

“Ow, ow, ooooow,” you whined. 

“Don’t be such a baby.” Leaning down a bit too far, one of the thorns pricked him right in the thumb. He cursed, threatening to leave you alone once you laughed. “You’re really scratched up…” He frowned as he gestured to many thin red scratches across your body. You whimpered again, reaching up at him to tug you free. Sloth kicked in, his impatience to take his time fluttered away. He basically flattened the bush with his feet, breaking the twigs stuck to you with his hands. His arms wrapped around your torso, tugging you up, the sound of some fabric tearing as he did. He sighed, taking you a few steps away from the bush before letting you slide past his arms, flopping to the soil. He came down to kneel beside you, grabbing thorns and leaves out of your hair, rubbing a thumb over the small wound on your cheek. “When you wonder why we worry about leaving you alone, this is why. How long have you been napping in bushes?” 

“I…” A sudden chill overtook you, your stomach and the food...you remembered the food Solomon had fed you. The taste...torture. You could feel it in your throat. 

“MC?” You pushed Belphie away, scrambling on your hands and knees to another unfortunate set of flora. Without nitty gritty details, let’s just say your body had the smart idea to not keep Solomon’s food in you any longer. Trembling, you coughed up the last of it, cold sweat dripping down your face. Belphie’s hands touched your back. “You’re not going to be sick on me, are you?” You didn’t respond to him, trying to catch your breath. He mumbled, pulling you into his lap. Covered in dirt and sweat, you curled into him, shivering. Then the both of you watched in slight horror as all the plants planted around your...expulsed poison all wilted at once, almost crumbling to dust. “Wicked father of demons…” Belphie breathed. “What the hell did you eat?” 

You only needed to utter one word for him to understand everything entirely. “Solomon…” 

“Dear Diavolo…I’m lucky to have found you alive.” He whipped his head around. “He’s not still here is he?” 

You shook your head, rubbing at the saliva on your lips. “I don’t remember...I don’t remember leaving my room…I don’t remember…” 

Working hard to get to his feet, he lifted you along with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs against his body, groaning into him. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this now.” He held onto you, sidestepping past the destroyed flora and towards the house. “I’m just telling you this now though, if Solomon is still here, I will leave you.” 

Reaching up his neck, you grasped tightly onto some of his hairs. “I will drag you down with me.” 

“Confident words for someone I’m carrying like a baby,” he snickered, but he let the witty back and forth drop as he entered the house. For a moment, he stood still, taking in the air of the place. “I think we’re good,” he announced, but continuing to take wary steps up the stairs. He picked up the pace in the hallways, sneaking away towards the familiar spiral staircase that led it’s way up to the attic. The doors he pushed open were heavy in more ways than one. Quietly shutting it behind the two of you, he headed over to the bed. A jolting ticklish pain raced down your body as Belphie jabbed his fingers against your waist. “Off, parasite.” You relinquished your grasp as fast as you could, flopping onto the attic mattress. You crawled up, sliding under the covers, planting your face into the nearest pillow. Right when you thought you were recovering, you were back to being bed-ridden. Belphie left you alone in silence for a minute. When he came back, you had to take a moment to realize he had ever been gone. He was stealthy like that. He dropped a small first-aid kit as well as a bottle of water on the blanket. “Come here.” 

“But I-” 

“But I,” he mocked. “But I don’t care. I need to look after some of those scratches.” Huffing, you dramatically threw the blanket to the side, coming over to sit in front of him. Taking the water bottle in hand, you gratefully moved to take a hearty swig to wash down some of the acid. Belphie grabbed it from you before you could. “Not for drinking.” He twisted the cap off and pulled out a small clean washcloth from his pockets. He pressed the fabric against the opening and tilted the bottle up, getting the rag slightly wet. He then pressed it against your cheek. “We don’t want these infected.” Slowly, he dabbed at each of your shallow scratches, making sure they were clear of dirt. Once he was done with that, he shoved the remaining water at you. 

“I don’t want your rag water.” 

“Fine.” 

But the acidity in your mouth was grating against your teeth. You snatched the bottle from him, swallowing some grateful gulps to cease the gentle burning. Belphie had a mild cocky expression, wiping away the blood. Closing an eye due to slight stinging, you watched his concentrated face. “So…” You started, watching him soon open the box and remove a small tube of medicated ointment. “Why’re you home?” 

Squeezing a small amount of the clear gel on the tip of his finger, he started applying it to your cleaned wounds. “Oh, I snuck out of the meeting.” 

“Belphie!” 

“What?” He took one hand, grabbing your face for a second, squishing your cheeks, mimicking the way your lips pursed. You shook him off, trying to keep yourself from being flustered. “Can you blame me? All I could think about was you...nice and warm in bed...and I was sleepy.” He let out a large yawn. “Still sleepy.” 

“Well…” You paused for a second, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m glad you did.” 

He stopped for a second, looking into your eyes. “Hm? Say that again?” 

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you furled your eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“Are you suuuure?” He drawled. “Cus it sounded like you missed me.” One look at your embarrassed face sent him laughing. He poked at your ribs, tickling your sides, singing the words. “You missed me, you missed me.” 

Burying your face in your hands, you kicked him a little. “Stop it!” 

“Fine,” he smirked. “Anyway, I think you’re mostly taken care of. Most of these have dried and scabbed over. They weren’t very deep anyway.” He lifted your arm, turning it to make sure he’d treated you completely. “So now we can do what I came here for!” It was his first excited expression in a while. He jumped into you, grabbing you by the waist against the bed. Both your heads hit the pillows, the blanket following shortly after. Already you could feel his face against your back. A happy hum of his buzzed into your skin, his hands rubbing against your stomach. Pouting a little, you realized that with Belphie stuck to you like this, you weren't going anywhere soon, so you shifted to get comfortable. You relaxed with a heavy sigh. “You know…” Belphie drowsily muttered. “I...missed...you too…” 

“MC! My poor precious MC! I’m never ever leaving you alone again!” Asmo wailed, clinging to you like if he let you go you’d suddenly die. “I can’t believe Belphie did this to you!” 

Speaking up from the corner, Belphie scoffed. “I actually helped them, just so everyone knows.” Back in your room, each of the demon brothers had returned from the meeting, having found you and Belphie after a while in the attic. Of course, your small wounds, Belphie’s absence, and the strange destruction of a segment of the garden was called into question. 

“And my plants!” Asmo shrieked. “They were such a lovely background for my Devilgram posts! They’re ruined!” 

“I’m so-” you tried to apologize, but Asmo pressed a gentle finger against your lips. 

“Shush! I don’t blame you a single bit, my darling. It’s all these ruffians!” He kissed your cheek in spots around your little wound. 

“Hey! Solomon’s the person responsible, not us!” Mammon shouted. 

Lucifer’s weariness was especially noticeable today. You wondered what he had to put up with at the meeting. “At the very least, we’re glad you’re safe, MC. Knowing what Solomon’s cuisine is capable of…” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m heading to my office...try not to burn the house down,” he sighed, exiting quietly. 

You tilted your head. “Is he okay?” You asked. 

“When Belphie left, let’s just say Diavolo wasn’t exactly pleased,” Satan explained, a wicked grin stretching his lips wide. “So in exchange he agreed to be Diavolo’s personal servant tomorrow. I hope our Demon Lord has some entertaining things in store.” 

Belphie’s face brightened. “Did I do that? Whoops.” Hardly a glimmer of remorse in him. 

“You guys owe it to him at least to try and make it a calm night,” you urged, hoping to ease some of the shenanigans already being plotted in their minds. 

Mammon shook his head. “Why do we gotta owe him anything? If he’s out for the count tonight, I can hit the casinos without a problem!” He came over rubbing your head. “Give me some of that luck, yeah?” You doubted you had any, but he bounded out the door. 

“Belphie, I’ve got a little idea I’d like to try, but I need an extra set of hands. Care to join me?” Satan curled a little finger around his chin, mischief making his green eyes glow wild. 

Belphie chuckled. “Ab-so-lutely.” With devilish grins, they both sniggered, malevolent whispers drifting between them as they left. 

A rumbling growl echoed through the room. If this had been anywhere else, you would’ve been terrified. But this was the Devildom, and you knew Beel’s stomach when you heard it. “Oh...I’m sorry, MC, but I’m starving. I’ll see you in a bit.” He came over, trying to give you a hug despite Asmo still holding onto you for dear life. He ended up hugging both of you anyway. With more than a little speed, he also left your room, probably heading straight for the kitchen. 

A high pitched ‘bling’ reached your ears. Levi pulled out his D.D.D.. “Oh! The new patch for Sorcerer’s Scrolls has been released! I gotta go!” He moved to run but stopped in his tracks before he got too far. “Do you wanna...watch more of that show tonight?” 

“Sure, Levi,” you smiled, watching him sprint out of the room, a joyful spring in his step. Although, once everyone had left, you couldn’t help but lower your head, patting Asmo’s wrist. “You can leave too, Asmo, you don’t have to stay with me.” 

He made an overly dramatic gasp. “But I do! Don’t sound so sad!” Pulling a bit away from you, he let his cheeks turn a bit pink. “And to be completely honest, I’ve been dying to get some alone time with you.” He squirmed a little bit, but then jumped to his feet. “So! You just sit there and let Nurse Asmo take care of everything, ‘kay ‘kay?” Is that why he had brought that large bag with him when he came in? It was a peach-colored tote bag, settled on your table, a fluffy pink pom-pom clipped to one of the handles. He bounded towards it, rummaging around, looking for something important.

A little--well a lot--guarded against potential Asmo intentions, you tried craning your head to see if you could look inside, but no dice. The end of your nose tickled again as it had the past few days. Grabbing another tissue from your bedside, you tried to blow your nose as quietly as possible. Your poor nostrils were so dry by this point it was bordering on painful. You sniffled, reaching over to squirt some hand sanitizer in your hands. “I thought you hated being around sick people,” you told him. 

“You’re the only exception! Besides,” he grabbed out a familiar tool, one you had no idea how he got his hands on it. A stethoscope. “I want to use all these goodies Solomon got me!” 

The name still almost sent a shudder down your spine. “Solomon? Why?” 

Practically skipping back over, he sat beside you on the bed, strangely excited about this. “Aren’t bodies fascinating?” He touched his own skin, dragging his hand down his neck. “I love to know what makes this perfect body run! And you have absolutely no idea how desperately I’ve longed to know how yours does too!” Taking a good look at him, you could sense that he was truly and undeniably curious as to how your mortal body differed from his. Or possibly just craving a closer look into you altogether. Of course, you still had to close your eyes and deeply sigh. How many times would Solomon be the source of general chaos? Asmo took the end to the stethoscope, looking at it strangely. “Tell me, dear, how does this work?” You let out a light chuckle, and he looked at you curiously. “Don’t make fun of me, that’s just mean!” 

“I’m not! I’m not, I promise, it’s just…” He resembled that of a little kid right now, a rare sort of innocence about him. Here he was, a demon of many millennia, and he just wanted to play doctor for a bit. “Never mind.” Brushing off your thoughts, you took the binaurals, putting the earpieces in his ears. One of his hands gently clutched the diaphragm, so you wrapped your own hand around his, guiding the end of the stethoscope to your chest. 

Listening it to a moment, you could watch the gentle awe cross over his face. “T-that’s you.” 

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth. “Yes, Asmo, that’s me. What, you didn’t think I had a heartbeat?” 

“No, I knew! It’s just…” He closed his eyes, going silent. You didn’t want to disturb his moment, but you felt a sneeze coming on. Grabbing another tissue, you covered your nose, tilted your head down towards your lap, and sneezed. Moaning a bit, you blew your nose again, hard enough to make your ears pop. Sitting up, you chucked your used kleenex into the trash. You were about to apologize, but then the glee drained from Asmo’s face. He brought his hands up to his mouth and shrieked. 

“What?! What’s wrong?!” As soon as you had asked, the answer presented itself towards you. Warmth dripped down your lips, forcing you to close your mouth as fast as you could. 

“Blood! You’re bleeding! Hold on!” Lurching towards the tissues, Asmo pulled five out at a time, pressing it against your face. You pinched your nose, pressuring your hand against the bundle of kleenex. “Look at all this! No, no, no, no, you’ll be alright, darling.” Your gut instinct was to tilt your head up, but Asmo placed his hand on the top of your head, tilting it slightly forward. “Oh, don’t do that, you’ll end up swallowing it. Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He got up sprinting, leaving you alone with the smell and taste of blood. When he came back, he had a cold wet rag in his hands. “Here, use this instead. Give me those,” he softly ordered, tugging at the already blood soaked tissues. You took the rag in your hands, using that to stop the flow instead. He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back. “Poor thing, it’s just non-stop problems for you right now, isn’t it?” You let him hold you, tilting your head against his as you waited for the blood to stop.  Slowly, he brought his hand up to pet the back of your head, giggling a bit to himself when the action made you shiver. 

After a bit of time, you tore away from him, cautiously removing the rag. You touched just above your lip, sighing in relief when it had stopped. “That was unexpected.” 

Stealing the cloth from you, he started wiping the excess blood off your face. “About gave me a heart attack!” With his free hand, he cupped the side of your face. 

A little idea crossed your mind. “Heart attack, huh? Better check that out.” Reaching for the stethoscope, you cleaned the earpieces before putting them in, pressing the small round medical disc to his chest. It was a bit stunning, you had to admit, how loud it sounded. In the human world before, any mentions of demons or angels were always in an ethereal sense. Whether you believed in them or not, you never really thought about them having hearts. Were they even similar to yours? At least...the drumming beating sound of life was the same. 

He finished up cleaning you off, tilting his head and grinning. “Well?” 

“Undeniably alive...and I’m very grateful for it.” 

He squealed, flopping onto you, pushing you both down onto the bed. Every hint that he had been frightened before was gone. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?! Come here, you!” He littered kisses over your face, sending you into a little flurry of embarrassed titters. 

“Asmo…” 

“Isn’t it a human saying that they can kiss the pain away?” He pecked his lips over your eyelids. “Well, you better prepare yourself...I won’t stop kissing your perfect little face till you feel better!”

The bedroom door violently swung open, the handle nearly making a dent in the wall. Demons poured in, nearly falling over each other. They were all in demon forms, ready to tackle more danger. When they noticed that Asmo was fawning over you, they all puffed up, jealous and irritated. “We heard you scream and thought something happened!” Lucifer roared. Kinda late, weren’t they?

“Hey, why’re you getting all kissy with MC?!” Mammon jumped onto the mattress, trying to pry you from his brother’s arms. 

“Don’t you think I deserve to be embracing them?” Satan attempted to push them both aside. Before you knew it, your room was a small war-arena, everyone climbing on the bed. You were squished between them, passed between different hands. Then something wobbled, the sound of wood and metal groaning before a loud snap pierced your ears. The bed hit the floor, a poof of dust causing you to cough. Your bedframe lay scattered in broken pieces across the ground. 

“My...bed…” You ran a hand through your hair, pinned under the doggy-pile of demon lords. You looked between each of them with stern looks, each of them blushing in embarrassment over their actions. “Well...I guess it means I’ll be using someone else’s bed for the foreseeable future.” 

All at once, their faces lit up, and at the same time they all shouted the same thing. “Me!”

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #tw blood #tw medication #tw vomit

[osakiharu]

9:45PM : chifuyu matsuno

content : gender neutral reader, angst, hurt / comfort (i think, i’m still not good at this), ehh reader and chifuyu aren’t in denial but like y’all would prefer it if you were ig, i’ll add more if i can think of it, not proofread

wc : 1.2k

notes : i thought of this idea ages ago but i literally just couldn’t write it for a month because it kept hating it but whatever it’s fine <\3 i need to get better at writing those synopsis things too i fucking suck at it :(

you hadn’t really noticed the snow until a delicate flake settled on your cheek, melting and running down your face along with the few trails of tears beside it. chifuyu sat next to you, head resting atop yours, making a mental note to apologise for crying into your hair and wetting it slightly. you both were cold, chilled by the cool concrete stairs touching your legs where you sat on them and the sparse snowfall began to get heavier. peke j had found shelter under your boyfriend’s hoodie, only peeking his little, pink nose and mouth out to lick the hand chifuyu held tightly. you found the rough swipes of the cat’s tongue strangely comforting as the already grey sky had begun to deepen in colour, nightfall beginning to make itself known to the city.

“y’knew he’d be here, didn’t you?” your voice was quiet, trembling due to the cold and your soft sobs that were beginning to subside. “think he still comes here to see if kei’s come home yet.” he murmured, also feeling tired from shivering in his minimal layers, knitted hoodie not doing the job he thought it was going to do. chifuyu reached over to where the black cat was licking your hand to stroke the warm fur on his little head. “‘s not coming home, j… not this time,” a mewl left the fluffy animal, “i know… miss him, too.” you hadn’t expected chifuyu to show up at your door on the morning of an unpleasantly cold winter day. he’d made multiple attempts to get you to come on a walk with him, seeing as you’d hardly left the house since the 31st of october but every time you’d rejected his proposal.

chifuyu had come to realise that he missed many things at the moment. he missed going on little strolls in the evenings with you, sitting in the park wondering if it would start snowing whilst you were out in the late hours of the day, coming home and cuddling whilst he sat and told you about the new manga series he found. chifuyu missed you, and he missed baji. although less than usual, he’d still seen you through the dull month that had been november, and he knew that he could still call you if you really weren’t in the mood to see anyone. he understood that, and he was okay with it. chifuyu was more than happy to give you the time and space you needed to somewhat recover from what had recently happened. he knew you were still there, he could still talk to you. he couldn’t speak to baji anymore, though. he can’t see baji anymore. neither of you can, no one can. he’s gone and no one can bring him back to him. talking to that tall stone surrounded by flowers was starting to get tiring. he’d never enjoyed it in the first place, but he just wanted a simple reply from his dear friend. a single phrase, a word, anything. things probably would’ve felt somewhat better if kazutora hadn’t gone and put himself back in that dismal cell.

amongst all this, chifuyu had also missed his cat. everyone knew peke j was important to chifuyu, especially you. you knew that cat reminded him of baji with his thick mass of fur and striking yellow eyes, feisty and playful in nature. you remembered the pair getting on like wildfire when they met each other, and baji had almost put the kitten in his pocket before he left. neither you or chifuyu had thought it would be possible to form such a human-like friendship with an animal, but he had done just that. such a close friendship that peke j would take the odd stroll over to his house and sit and mewl at the window. more often than not you would be sitting in baji’s room doing homework together and hearing a familiar pat pat pat on the glass before your friend slid it open and took the cat into his arms like it was his own.

“yeah, but you knew he’d be here.” you peered up at him after blinking away the fresh tears brimming in your sleepy eyes. he was so cute. his little nose was ruddy from the cold and his cheeks were dusted with the same light pink colour. his lips had dark red splotches placed in particular areas where he’d bitten and picked at them, and his hands, one of which had come up to dry your eyes, were still warm and his knuckles had that similar dusting of ruddiness on them. “hm, surprised you didn’t.” the few loving kisses being pressed to the crown of your head was enough to make the welling tears spill over again. through your blurry vision you looked down at the remainder of the stairs that you sat atop. “d’you think he’s walking up the stairs right now, ‘fuyu?” you sniffled and jerked a finger towards the grey steps, “d’you think he’ll show up at the bottom of these in a second?” chifuyu’s shoulders deflated with a deep exhale. “they’re always doing stupid things, aren’t they? kei and kaz… always playing stupid pranks on us and stuff…” you could hardly keep your voice from wavering as your bottom lip quivered. “think they’re doing it again? they are, aren’t they… assholes… not fuckin’ funny are they, ‘fuyu?”

he didn’t respond so you craned your neck up to lay your gaze upon him once more. “are they?” your voice broke. you knew that wasn’t true, that they were playing along with another one of their childish jokes. Nice to pretend that it was, though. “no,” a sob left his mouth, followed by a dry, bitter laugh, “not fucking funny at all, are they?” his red yet still warm hands cradled you into his chest, peke j snuggling further into your hand that he still held. You whimpered something in response but he couldn’t quite make it out. “they’ll stop playing around soon, yeah? promise they will.” he knew you knew kazutora wasn’t coming back for a while, baji at all, but sure, it was nice to pretend for the evening.

chifuyu had practically dragged you to his room, whispering something about needing to get you warm. before you knew it, you’d been wrapped in one of your boyfriend’s huge sweaters and a pair of his joggers that were definitely ill fitting, not that it mattered much to you. the lightning was low in his room, the lamp on his desk softly illuminating his living space as you both cuddled into a mass of pillows and blankets on his bed. a hand had been nestled in your hair, messing and playing with it in a comforting manner whilst you lay your head on a firm chest. “you, asleep?” chifuyu asked, noting that peke j’s purring seemed to be dying down as he gave in to his own fatigue. “yeah… almost,” you forced out, feeling slightly annoyed at the fact that every time you were about to drift off, chifuyu would have something to say or ask you. “sorry… jus’ checking.” he smiled as he tugged the blankets up further until they reached the very back of your neck, drowning the pair of you in them. “g’night, love.” chifuyu hesitated slightly, feeling bad for talking more, but it left him as soon as you gave him a sleepy ‘love you, fuyu.’

he knew he couldn’t bring baji back for you. Not for you, not for him, not for anyone. he was more than happy to pretend that he could, though. Just for a little bit.

reblogs appreciated <3

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu fluff #chifuyu imagines

[ghostbustermelanieking]

For the AU-Jon wakes up from his coma before Martin accepts Peter's offer?

1. Oliver Banks comes sooner. No one knows why it happens this way, but this is the way it happens, and it mostly goes the same. Georgie shows up, Oliver leaves, and Jon starts to breathe again. It all just happens earlier.

Basira doesn’t tell Martin right away, when Georgie shows up. He’s taken this whole thing so hard, and it might be nothing, it might be nothing at all. She resolves to call him as soon as they have more details—when she has a hold on the whole situation.

2. This happens only two days after Peter has made his offer. He gave Martin a few days to “think it over,” and Martin still hasn’t come to a clear decision. (He thinks that the decision should be obvious—should be—but he isn’t that brave, and he’s never been the hero, and the decision seems impossibly stupid at times, and what if—what if Jon wakes up?)

Peter’s offer is still sitting like a stone in his mind, and he’s halfway considering visiting Jon, for some grasp at clarity—or maybe an attempt to say goodbye—when Basira texts, tells him to come to the hospital. She doesn’t offer many more details besides that, and Martin is out of the Institute and in a cab before there is even time to consider what this might mean. He halfway wants to call Basira up and press for information. The thing that sticks in his mind—the thing he thinks it must be—is that Jon is dead. Jon has finally died, and Basira’s called him there to say goodbye—and that just makes him want to press Basira even more, to demand answers, because what if he’s heading to the hospital with even a glimmer of hope and it turns out to be the exact opposite…

(Or what if—what if he’s awake? What if he’s alive?)

Martin doesn’t let himself hope. Doesn’t know how to. He keeps going over the possibilities—He’s probably dead, or worse—keeps reapproaching Peter’s plan—If Jon’s dead, I’ll have to take it, it’s the least I can do for the others, what will I have keeping me here then… He goes straight to the hospital, and up to Jon’s floor—the nurses know him, and wave him on through—down the halls to Jon’s familiar room, to Jon’s door, all the while bracing himself for bad news.

3. Basira is waiting by the door, and she looks up when Martin comes down the hall. “What’s happened?” Martin snaps, immediately. “What’s going on? Is he—” His throat closes at the prospect of finishing that sentence; he can’t do it, can’t say it…

Basira’s expression is closed off enough that Martin can’t read it, can’t tell if it’s bad news. But then she says, “He’s awake,” and the force of it is like a gut punch, nearly bending Martin in half. His hand immediately shoots for the door, and Basira puts an arm out as if to stop him. “Martin. It isn’t what you think.”

“What is it, then?” Martin snaps, and he yanks the door open, the word pushing out of his mouth entirely of his own accord—”Jon…”

Jon is awake. Jon is sitting up in bed, with a crumpled statement in his lap, and a tape recorder running on the side table, and Martin can’t breathe. Jon looks almost exactly the same as he has for months now, except that he’s awake and alive and looking at Martin. “Martin?” he says—a lot of emotions crammed into this one word—and Martin doesn’t know what to say, can’t get past the reality of Jon actually saying his name.

“Martin, you’re… here,” Jon says, quietly, the statement crumpling in his hand. “I-I didn’t know if… you’re all right?”

Martin starts to cross the room slowly, to the chair he’s more or less grown accustomed to sitting in when he’s visited. He hasn’t said anything yet—hasn’t found the words—and Jon is still talking. “I wasn’t sure if… y-your plan, Elias, Basira hasn’t… hasn’t filled me in, and I… you’re all right? You aren’t hurt, are you? Martin?”

Martin shakes his head numbly as he sits. Looks down at the bed and almost reaches for Jon’s hand—a long running habit, this isn’t his first visit, they’ve become as routine as anything—but he stops himself. He doesn’t know if Jon would want that. Maybe Jon never would have wanted that.

“You, er,” Jon begins, stops. He takes a slow breath, and his voice sounds remarkably well put-together, even after months of disuse. “It’s, uh. It’s good to see you here, Martin.”

Martin chokes a little. “Jon?” he says—he isn’t sure he has the words for anything else—and he looks up, and Jon is looking back at him—something unreadable in his eyes, something almost like affection, maybe—and one of them, or maybe both of them, move before Martin even knows what is happening. Martin jerks forward, and so does Jon, and then they’re embracing, leaning over the bed, Jon’s fingers digging into Martin’s shoulders, Jon’s heart thudding in his chest—Martin can feel it now. And he doesn’t bother to stop himself from crying anymore. He just holds onto Jon—Jon, awake, Jon, alive, Jon's head on his shoulder—and keeps telling himself, over and over again, that it’s all okay, it can all be okay now.

4. Jon ends up staying with Martin. It makes sense—Jon doesn’t have a flat, and neither do the others—Basira and Melanie have been living in the Archives, and Georgie hasn’t said anything to either of them since the hospital (Martin has still never met her). But Martin still has a flat. And Jon deserves better than a cot, after months of hospital beds, so Martin offers to let him stay, and Jon agrees.

The marvel of it is too much—after months of quiet in the Archives, months of growing apart from Melanie and Basira, months of isolation and feeling lost, months of Jon being asleep… the reality of Jon standing in his kitchen, Jon drinking tea at his dining room table, is genuinely overwhelming. There’s a dozen things Martin wants to say without knowing if he should, a dozen things he wants to explain. Basira filled him in on most of the important things, but they haven’t gotten a chance to talk about any of them, and there’s even more things Martin wants to say, if he knew how to say them. He wants to talk to Jon about how much he’s missed Tim—how much of his mind has been stuck in the reality of that first year, when Tim was alive and Sasha was alive, and aside from Jon sort of hating him, everything mostly being all right. He wants to tell Jon about how much he’s missed him, when he was asleep—wants to say all the things he’s been able to say to Elias and a goddamn tape recorder, but not to Jon himself. He wants to tell Jon about his mum. He wants to tell Jon he visited every single week, sometimes two or three times. He wants to talk about how horrible this all has been, and what they do next, how they move on from this, because he genuinely does not know. He wants to talk about all of it.

He wants to tell Jon about Peter’s offer, and he wants Jon to tell him not to take it. Because a part of him still thinks he needs to take it. He thinks about Peter’s warnings, and his promises to keep them all safe. And yes, Jon is awake now, but shouldn’t that be even more reason to take it? To keep Jon safe, too, now that he’s awake and can be put in danger? And there’s still the others, in the same danger they would’ve been before, and they deserve to be safe, too—and Martin isn’t the hero by a long shot, but he wants to be, wants to do something more to make a difference besides lighting some fires while Tim and Jon went off to die. He wants to make the noble decision, even if it will be a thousand times harder with Jon here in front of him. But he also wants Jon to talk him out of it.

Martin doesn’t say any of this to Jon, because he can’t. Not with everything Jon’s been through—in a coma for months, how selfish can Martin be? He makes tea, and he sits at the kitchen table with Jon, and he answers Jon’s questions about what he’s missed, and he tries not to think about Peter’s offer. The urgency in his voice that was probably a lie. He keeps getting paranoid that Peter will see him sitting here with Jon (Peter is not Elias), and that Peter will insist that he can’t be doing this, that he’s breaking their agreement (except Martin never agreed), and then try to tell Martin that the deal is forfeit now, and it’s too late. And it’s absurd, because Martin doesn’t want to take the deal—except he’s scared about what not taking it might mean. Scared about how this will all end, scared that if he doesn’t take the deal that something will happen—and what if Jon (or Melanie, or Basira) die and it’s because of him, because he turned down this chance? Except that he was only going to take it because Jon wasn’t ever going to wake up, and now he’s here, and how can Martin leave now, after everything?

There is simultaneously too much and not enough to talk about, and Jon doesn’t seem to know how to initiate it either, so they talk about nothing. They end up on the couch, flipping through the television channels, and Jon asks some lighthearted questions about what he’s missed on TV shows Martin didn’t even know he watched. It’s easy enough to make that kind of small talk, over other kinds, and it’s enough to get them both laughing a little. They stay on the couch for a long time. (Martin halfway expects Jon to be tired, to need to get more sleep—and halfway decides to leave a couple of times, an attempt to give Jon space, before deciding in the other direction—but Jon never mentions needing sleep, and Martin guesses if he was sleeping for months on end, he probably wouldn’t be tired, either. So he stays on the couch with Jon.)

At some point, they do start talking: about Tim, about the missing months, about how hard everything has been. Martin doesn’t bring up the thing with Peter, not yet, but he talks about all the rest. (The tremor in Jon’s voice when he tells Martin he’s sorry about his mother is almost too much to take. There’s still a lot Martin hasn’t talked about yet.) Martin tries to find the balance—he doesn’t want to put too much onto Jon, with everything Jon’s been through, he can’t do that—but he’s honest, too. He says, I… I missed you, Jon. We all did—but I… He says, It’s been… bad. Hard. While you’ve been gone, and he tries not to think about how often Jon was gone, before the Unknowing; how far Jon pulled away after Prentiss. They had time—limited time—between America and the Unknowing, but then Jon was asleep, and now—if Martin takes Peter’s deal; if Jon has to leave again…

Jon takes a sharp breath. The room is dark, and Martin isn’t looking at him, but he feels it when Jon, tentatively, takes his hand. (Like a dozen nights in his hospital room except Jon’s awake and his hand is warm, his pulse beating against Martin’s thumb, and Jon initiated it, and it’s all okay now.) “Well,” says Jon, uncertain and reassuring all at once, somehow. “I’m… I’m here now. And I don’t know how much help I’ll really be, with… everything. But Martin, I promise… I-I’m not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.”

5. And Martin decides, in that moment, and in the moments after, and in the email he writes out the next morning, in frank, firm language. He decides then. Jon is back, and there has to be another way out, a way that they can figure it out together. So Martin doesn’t take Peter’s deal.

(send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons)

#i sort of hate this but!! here it is #tma au #tma fic #i wrote this

[reigenhusband]

Psychic Wedding Time!

Art by @/cowboyologist

After months of holding back, we finally tied the ole knot! Me and the conman are officially hitched today September 10, 2021!

This silly little blonde anime man means an awful lot to me and its really more than I can say. These months with him have been a great help.

When I went through some of the roughest things I've ever gone through, I had him to think about for comfort. He is a little part in what keeps me going and I wish I could thank him for everything. He sparks a lot of joy so I think I'm gonna keep him!

I've never been happier and I'm so lucky to call him husband! He's had such a positive impact and I love him so, so much.

Special thank you to my friends and of course our son Mob who carried the rings!

Under the cut is a little fic about getting ready for the wedding. Thanks everyone for your support!

Reigen squinted at his reflection, dark eyes hauntingly focused on a strand of hair that didn't take to the product he put in it. A grunt of dismay rumbled low in his throat.

"Um…Reigen?" 

"Just a second, Serizawa. Almost got it."

The taller man's voice wavered but he managed to hold fast and keep his confidence. Reigen could almost hear his hands wringing. 

"Er...Well. Its just...you've been staring at yourself for a little over 20 minutes now and you haven't moved and…"

Reigen sucked his teeth and pressed his palm firmly to the side of his head. Damned strand of hair! Slick like the rest of it! Don't you know know day it is?!

"What I mean is..! Are you alright?" Serizawa finally asked, his voice heavy with concern. "Since it's your wedding and all I figured you'd be nervous but you seem really on edge. Is something bothering you?" 

The blonde twitched.

 "W...what are you talking about? Of course not! I'm calm and-" He stopped abruptly and slammed his hands flat on either side of the mirror, his eyes wide and bloodshot upon inspection of his suit. A fleck of black thread pervaded his white vest and he looked around frantically for the lint roller. "You thought you could hide but you can't best Reigen Arataka." He muttered as he furiously went over his all but pristine wedding attire. 

His best man scratched his own cheek nervously and looked on with clear uncertainty. "If you're sure." 

Once he was satisfied after a thorough inspection and having Serizawa scrutinize the back, he dropped into a chair. Nearby was a table decorated in what was probably a thousand congratulatory flowers from clients. He exhaled and stared a hole into the arrangement of colors. His heart was pounding. His brow, coupled with his hands, were visibly slick with chilled sweat. His stomach was full of stones. 

He met his own gaze in the mirror again. He looked well kept and yet...disheveled at the same time. Come to think of it, his face was flushed the shade of his usual pink tie. The last 3 days without sleep also hollowed out dark circles under his eyes. His shirt collar began to feel more and more constricting as time went on no matter how much he tugged on it. 

Maybe he really was scared. 

He didn't doubt that he loved Mitty. In fact, he wanted to be with him more than anyone. A case of cold feet wouldn't change that. It was himself he was wrestling with here. 

Spirits, monsters, and deadly espers. He'd faced them all and came out on top. But they were nothing compared to these looming expectations to be a person to rely on. This wasn't something he could bullshit his way through. This was marriage. Mitty was going to see the warted underbelly of when he was Reigen the man instead of Reigen the psychic. His fiancé was going to experience sides of him he only revealed when he was alone. Would he still like him even then?

Reigen was good at a lot of things but this had to be the one that counted most. Could he really be a good partner forever? 

Was he really going to cut it as a husband? 

"Hey, Serizawa?" Reigen asked, not looking at him. 

The man's shoulders lurched at his name suddenly being called. He straightened his back. "Oh! Yes sir?"

"Do you think we'll be good together?" 

Silence sat heavily for a moment. Every second felt longer than the last. 

His friend seemed taken aback by the question but nonetheless looked at the ceiling as though collecting the right words to answer. "Well…"

Another moment passed and Reigen waited with his hands clasped and breath baited. 

"I've never been with anyone so I can't say for certain what a good relationship is but," A compassionate smile spread across the esper's face before he continued, visibly more sure of his words. "I think you and Mr. Mitty understand each other. You always seem to know what the other is thinking. You motivate each other to be better and you seem happy when you're together. And...and you trust each other too. And I think that's whats important." 

Reigen looked at the velveted floor. "Then…"  

"You've become more honest by being with him and he talks like you're really important to him. So please...get married if it makes you both happy! I think you can really be something!" His friend was beaming with 

what Reigen could only say was genuine assurance. 

"I really believe you'll take care of each other." 

His co-worker actually really was resourceful. Maybe someday he ought to pay him more. The uncomfortable feelings waned slightly and his shoulders slowly slacked. Mitty was waiting for him so now wasn't the time to lose it. 

After a few seconds of letting his feelings iron themselves out, he stood and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket. "Well alright then. If thats what you think then I guess there's no backing out of this one." 

Serizawa pressed his hands together in delight. "YES! I've got your back, Reigen!" 

The door into the hallway opened and a set of black eyes peered into the room. "Master, It's starting. Are you coming?" 

The jarring announcement had him scrambling to fix the piece of hair he'd been fussing with. 

"OF COURSE." He jabbed his thumb into his own chest to feign total confidence. "Right behind you, Mob!" 

He held his breath. Alright, let's do this. 

Mitty POV

Teal eyes darted around the room carefully. 

"Hey...Dimple? You there?"

The whizzing of the spirit materializing buzzed next to his ear. 

"Yeah whaddya want? You're on soon, aren't you?" 

Mitty jabbed his right hook into the air where the voice was coming from. "AGH WHAT THE HELL?"

A swift flash of green dodged his reach. 

"HEY, why are you hitting me?! You asked for ME, remember?" The ghost clucked his tongue in disapproval and floated a few inches away for safety. 

"WELL MATERIALIZE WHERE I CAN SEE YOU, YOU BIG BOOGER! I'm on edge!" 

"On edge? What for? You're the one who wanted this, right?"

"W..well….yeah, sorry." He looked at his clenched fist and opened it. "...sorry." He said again more thoughtfully this time. 

Dimple raised a spectral eyebrow. "Whats wrong? Having second thoughts? I mean it's Reigen so who can blame ya."

Mitty scowled while straightening his tie in the mirror. "Hey! REIGEN'S…." His voice softened closer to a whisper. "A pretty good guy. Get off my case. Aren't you supposed to be my support? You're being kinda harsh!" 

"Well kid, something is obviously on your mind so let's hear it. Wedding starts soon right? Yeesh. Once you do all this he's your problem forever." 

"I'm not worried about him!! I'm more worried about...me."

"About you? What're you talkin' about?! You're too good for him!"

"Thanks for the flattery. You still can't have my body though."

"Well I didn't want it anyways, ya bastard. You're weak compared to Shigeo. I'm just being honest here!" 

Silence.

"So? Out with it, What did you want anyways? You're talking nonsense here!" 

Mitty wrinkled his nose in discomfort.  "I just needed to ask something. But you can't run your mouth off like you always do, you old gossip. You're like a knitting circle."

"TCH. like I'd blabber your business to someone. It's all so boring."

"Yeah, yeah just listen, alright?!"

Another few seconds passed. "So? Say it. We don't have all day, you know."

He was looking at his hands again like he was somewhere far off. "Well. D...D'you think I'll be good at this?" 

"Good at what, exactly?" 

"Being married." 

Dimple's form rippled with thought. "You're seriously worried about that?"

Mitty was going to make a sharp remark but his head dropped and his face buried into his knuckles. "Yeah."

Dimple deflated slightly in exasperated defeat. Humans could be so ignorant. 

"Listen. That fraud never shuts up about you. You think you're not good enough? You should hear him talk. It's annoying how you both don't realize things."

"Realize things?"

He sighed and shrugged his tiny arms. "I hear everything whether you like it or not. You two idiots never stop talking and moaning about the other is too good for the other. It's getting old, really." 

"HUH? He says that? No way! But he's always beaten me at everything! I always thought he was way out of my league." 

 "Kinda the opposite actually but...sure. What I'm saying is…! You're both seeing the best parts of each other. Keep doing that and it'll be smooth sailing."

"Yeah but...what if he stops seeing the best in me?'

"You planning on making things hard?" 

"Not really. I just know I can be difficult to deal with." 

"So is he. You really think you got this far because Reigen's all roses and sunshine? 'Course not. You've seen all the stuff he does and you still like him, right?" 

He certainly was flawed, that was for sure. Mitty spent most of Reigen's antics with his eyes rolled up in his head but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying the moment either. 

"Right."

"Then it's the same for him. Sure it won't always be fun but that phoney won't give up on you just because you're annoying. He's way too persistent. It kind of ticks me off." 

I'm annoying???  That stung but he shook it off.

Reigen was going to have to deal with him for the rest of his life once they said the right words. But if Dimple was right...would it be so bad to annoy each other for the rest of their lives if the other was willing to put up with it? 

Reigen seemed okay with it so far. Mitty would just have to listen to him make a fuss about his coffee table clutter until he died. But really, he wouldn't have that any other way. His voice was kind of cute when he hit that inhuman octave he had when he was in disbelief. 

The door from the hall swung open and a blond clad in what was perhaps the most blinding and loud suit he had ever seen poked his head in. 

"Oh, You're still in here? It's bad luck to be late on your wedding day! Master Reigen is waiting. " He cocked his head to the side. "Or did you need some help with your suit? Its looking a little plain." 

Hanazawa. This kid would try to accessorize his suit in the worst way possible. He put up his hands to wave him off. 

"N-nah, kiddo that's alright. I'll be right there."

Hanazawa, after a few more attempts to get Mitty to let him help retreated back into the hallway. When it was quiet again he eyed Dimple. He was abrasive and unpleasant. He always had a motive for everything and rarely had something nice to say. 

But he came through when it mattered. 

"Hey Dimple?" 

"Yeah? What is it?" 

"Thanks." 

Dimple wouldn't meet his eyes and levitated towards the hall. He didn't want to acknowledge he was helping, he supposed. It was in character for that tsundere blob.

"You ought to get out of here now if you wanna make it on time." 

He stood and dusted himself off. 

"Welp. Here goes everything."

#i only have access to mobile so the format for everything is so ugly but HIIII ITS MARRIAGE TIME #i wanna write a fic of the actual wedding or what it entails later. #thanks for letting me be cringe #to any non selfship blogs that might be seeing this i am so sorry #I'll show the rings i had made later!!! #wedding mentions

[kays-various-stuff]

Michael Afton x fem! OC (Tara)

Contains: - Break up, cheating - Cursing, suggestive (!)

I pesonally recommend to read it when you're ~15 to 16+

Song that inspired me: Boyfriend - Cameron, Dove

You had known it from the beginning. Your sweet, sweet time with Michael, your very first love, would end one day. Although he had never seemed to be wanting it to end. And yet, hardly a year after coming together, it would end. He was still important to you, but... you started to fall out of love. It wasn't the same as it was before. You had started to realise when you noticed his touch wasn't the same as it used to be. A few months ago, you would have killed for every little touch that gave you butterflies and send chills down your spine. The small kisses, making your cheeks and ears grow bright red. But now, all of this felt like... nothing. You didn't like it as much as you used to. Knocking on the door, you folded your hands and looked up, as the door opened.

"Good evening, Tara."

"Good evening, Sir! Is... Is Michael here?"

"Yes, he's in his room. You should know where it is."

His father let you in, making you way to the stairs and letting you go to the room of his eldest son, that just so happened to be your boyfriend. Gently knocking on his door, you opened it and looked inside, only to meet the blue eyes of your boyfriend.

"Tara! Hey, what're you doing here?"

"I... Look, I think we need to talk about something..."

"But before we do that, I got something! Here, c'mere!"

Sighing slightly, you walked towards the center of his room and let him give you a kiss in th cheek, while he started walking around his room, prepared a few things and showed you excited his newest music album.

"Wanna listen to some tunes? I bought the new album of Madonna, I know you like her!"

"Mickey baby."

"Or some other songs! I've got... Oh, The Rolling Stones!"

"Micheal."

"Or AC/DC! Aerosmith, Kiss, Queen, ABBA, The Cla-"

"Michael!"

The brunet turned his head towards you and frowned slightly, making you sigh.

"Michael, I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude."

"No, don't apologize! It's okay, I didn't let you talk. Please, you wanted to say something?"

It defintly wasn't going to be easy.

While you remained standing infront of his bed, the brunet sat down again and gently took your hand, while looking up to you and smiled softly. This was not only going to break his, but your heart as well...

"I think... I think we should break up."

"What...?"

He got up from his bed, making his way towards you. Wanting to take your hands, the boy looked at you in surprise, as you folded your hands behind your back and looked to the side.

"Why...? Did I do something wrong?"

"Michael, it's-"

"What is it, tell me! Please, Tara, I love you."

"It's... just not the same for me anymore. You're still important to me, but... I don't think I love you anymore. I'm sorry, Michael."

He just stood there, saying nothing. Just the tears, that had started to collect in his eyes and revealing the broken heart you caused. You yourself had to fight against the urge to cry too, so yu slowly turned around, left his room and house again and started walking back home. It would become less one day. The sorrow of the break up and heartbreak would soon be better... And it eventually did. You just didn't notice it the often anymore. And once you stoped noticing at all, time had started to fly. Not even a blink later, years had passed. Graduated, got a job with a great salary, in a relationship and... somewhat of unhappy. You didn't want to feel like this, but he... was not the one. Not after he had proposed to you in front of his and your family, almost forcing you to accept. You had planned to break up with him but now there had been no way back. It's like your mother always told you. One ring is more than enough, you'll never take it off again. But what if... you didn't want his ring? You wanted someone elses ring. Worse enough, you've met him again. He who you hadn't seen in years and had suddenly turned your world upside down. Again. Of course you had thought here and there about Michael, but ever since you met him by accident again, he... didn't seem to leave your head. Again. Just like when you were teens. But... it was different this time. You were adults, not teenagers with way too many hormons for the body to handle. And you were engaged. With a man you never really loved. Maybe in the beginning, but now... it just didn't feel right. So it had been a stupid idea to agree to meeting Michael again. On his free day, before he'd start a new job. Gently knocking at the door of his home, you brushed your shirt down and started smiling, as the door opened and the brunet looked at you. His smile hadn't changed in all these years...

"Hey, you're just here in time!"

"Really? I thought I'd be too late actually."

"Just in time, come in!"

You followed him into his flat, closed the door behind you and placed the little gift you had bought him earlier on the table, only to listen to his tour throughout all the rooms, until you could take a seat in his living room. Honestly, the armchair was more comfortable than it looked at first...

"So, what have you been doing all these years? We haven't talked in years."

"Oh, nothing special... Just the usual stuff. Graduating, living as an adult, working..."

"What do you do for living now though?"

"Have you seen the ads of the new furniture shop? I'm the manager there."

"No way! You really worked yourself up, huh? I could get jealous..."

"What do you do for living, Michael?"

"I ah... I'll start working as a night guard in a pizzeria soon."

"Oh, which one?"

"But don't laugh, okay?"

"I promise."

"Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rentals."

"Why would I laugh, I've been there with my niece."

"Niece...? I thought you're an only child?"

"Right, I didn't explain it, sorry. Well, the niece of my... fiancé."

"You're engaged?"

Revealing the ring on your finger, you looked to the ground and bit your lower lip, only to look up again, when the brunet had started talking.

"Tara, you don't want to marry him, do you?"

What was it with that undertone?

"No, I don't want to. I had actually planned to break up with him the night he proposed. And because he did it in front of our families, I couldn't say no..."

"Is he... a bad boyfriend?"

"It's not that, Michael. He's... sweet, honest and polite. Good looking and helps me with everything. But it's... boring. It's always the same, he never surprises me or gives me a real reason that makes me really love him. I'm... I don't love him anymore."

The brunet man seemed to like your answer. Or at least, it looked like that, because he had to cover his smile underneath his hand, acting like he was thinking about something.

"How long have you been... together?"

"About... three years."

"Have you had others before him and after me?"

"Michael..."

"What, I'm curious. I'm gonna be honest, I've had... not one girlfriend after you. Maybe three or four one night stands and an affair, but nothing serious."

"He's my... second. I didn't date anyone after you. Except for a one night stand here and there..."

"So you had him after me... Tara, is he... better than me?"

"Hm?"

"At kissing. Be honest."

No, your fiancé wasn't the best kisser. Michael on the other hand had been... undescribable. Of course, your very first kiss was a mess, but the following ones were driving you crazy back then.

"He's... not."

"He's not? So I'm better at kissing than he is?"

"Yes, much better. At least from the kisses back then, you're better at kissing than he is."

"Would you prefer kissing me then?"

"Michael!"

"What, I'm being honest!"

He got up from his seat, walked towards you and bowed down a bit, while holding your cheek in his hand. His eyes were practically screaming at you...

"I can be a better boyfriend than him!"

Just the fact, that the him had a tone of disgust in it, made you feel even gultier about all of this. Why did you even agree in the first place...?

"Michael, please..."

"You know it, Tara. You know it so well... I want you and only you. Hey, look at me."

He turned your head towards his, only to leave his hand on your cheek and caress it. Gently, thumb brushing over your soft skin. His eyes not leaving your skin and scanning every little detail. Just like he used to, when you were younger. When you were teens. He used to scan every detail of your skin, memorizing every little detail of your skin. Every mole, every single little scar, every little thing. All the little things he hadn't forgotten in all these years.

"I love you, I still do. I know you still love me too. Please, choose me."

"Michael..."

"Remember how you used to call me? I was your Mickey Baby. Your goofball. Yours and yours only. I still am, Tara."

"Michael... We shouldn't be doing this..."

"Why? Because of him?"

There it was. Again. It was clear that he had a hatred towards him. Your fiancé. The man, you wanted to break up with because he didn't leave your mind. You felt like a teen again, craving his touch and affection. You wanted to be his again. More than anything else. Yet you were bound to the ring. The promise of loyalty. An unspoken rule everybody in a relationship should obey. Tilting your head to the side, the brunet put his free hand on armrest and started wandering with the other one the back of your neck, only to slowly make his way to your neck by kisssing every little inch. Every little kiss sending chills down your spine, making the butterflies go crazy and making you fight against the urge to give in.

"Give in to me, I know you want to..."

His hot breath brushing the skin of your neck was almost driving you crazy, making your hand lift almost automatically and grab the fabric of his shirt, only encouraging the brunet to go a bit higher and gently suck on one of your sweet spots. After all these years, you were still so sensitive there... How he had loved to leave small, darker marks there when you were younger. Closing your eyes and putting your head back made the brunet man wander around on your neck again, only to leave it be for a second and look you in the eye. His blue eyes sparkled in excitement like they always used to. You loved him. You always did. How had you been so stupid and broke up with him?

"Give in to me, please... I promise it will be better this time..."

"Michael..."

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

Closing the door behind you, you took a deep breath and walked towards your shared living room, only to look at you fiancé with deadpan.

"Honey, what's wrong? Where have you been? It's so late already."

"I'm not going to marry you."

He immediatly got up from his seat, put his book down and walked towards you, making you take the ring off your finger and throw it in his direction, causing him to catch it perfectly.

"What do you mean, you promised!"

"I broke my promise."

"You don't mean you...?"

"I did. I just cheated on you. His name is Michael."

"Why are you telling me this...?"

His heart started to break, you could clearly hear it in his voice.

"Because I'm leaving you. I was planing to break up a long time ago but your stupid proposal ruined everything."

You turned around, walking towards your bedroom and got one of the bags, only to start packing your stuff together. Clothes and the most necessary for the next days. You'd need a new apartment, maybe Michael would take you in for a bit.

"But... Tara, I love you!"

As soon as you had your bag packed with everything you'd need, you turned around, looked at the man in front of you and placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it gently.

"I love and always loved Michael."

Letting go of his cheek, you continued walking towards your door, while your ex ran after you and seemed desperate to keep you with him.

"You can't just leave me like this!"

"I can and I will."

With a smile on your lips, you closed the door behind you and quickly ran down the stairs, only to open the cardoor and climb on the free seat next to the brunet man.

He had been waiting for you.

The smile on your lips started to grow, as he started the engine again and drove away from your home, holding your hand on the way away. Brushing with his thumbs over your knuckles and kissing them every now and then, making you giggle like a teen. On a traffic light, the brunet stopped the car, leaned towards your direction and started kissing every little inch of your face, while holding it in his hands so you couldn't escape.

"Mickey Baby, the traffic-"

"You're using it!"

Looking at him in surprise, the brunet widened his eyes, looked back at the street and kept searching for an empty parking lot, only to find one after some time.

Still not having received an answer, you watched him, as he got out of his car, walked around it and opened your door, only to actuate the lever on your seat, making you fall onto your back, as the back of your seat folds. Slowly, the brunet gets on top of you, taking your hands in his and started kissing you. Passionatly, rough. Like he had been waiting to do so for years.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #michael afton x reader #michael afton imagine #michael afton fanfic #afton family #fnaf sl #sister location #fnaf sister location

[kittycatlukey]

Far Cry 5 Preference: You’re In Love With Someone Else

Joseph Seed: The Deputy

Yes, the Father would be frustrated, more so heartbroken, that you, his angel, were in love with someone other than himself, especially the Deputy— the person that hates him the most, the person that has tried to kill him and his family, the person that has tried to tear the Project apart. Although it wasn't a complete surprise to him since he saw a vision, but he prayed to God every night that it was the devil playing tricks on him leading up to your divorce. Joseph loved you so dearly, and even though he loved you with everything in him, your happiness was of utmost importance to him, so he knew he had to let you go, despite it being incredibly difficult...

John Seed: Jacob Seed

Letting you go was the hardest thing that John had ever had to do in his whole entire life. He begged you and begged you to stay, but you didn't— you couldn't, because you were in love with another man. And that man was his older brother: Jacob Seed. Jacob had sacrificed so many things to protect his baby brothers, and John felt obligated to let him have some kind of happiness (you), even though it killed him inside. And John believed Jacob could protect you better than he ever could. The Baptist also felt like it was his turn to sacrifice for Jacob. He had protected him and Joseph for so long, so John thought this was his way of protecting Jacob. But it didn't make things any easier for him...

Jacob Seed: John Seed

Jacob was used to sacrificing things, specifically for his family, and losing people. His childhood and war had hardened him and transformed his heart to stone. He had scars that littered his body to prove that, acquired a dark gleam in his ocean blue eyes, and developed faint wrinkles from having lived a rough life. Nevertheless, the eldest Seed brother was stoic until he met you, but he only showed his soft side to you once you grew close. You two were in love for many years, and it was the best years of Jacob's life; however, he'd never admit that out loud though. Then one day, you had started to have feelings for a different person: his brother John. It crushed Jacob when he found out, but he understood. He believed he couldn't compete with the Baptist and that John was younger, richer, and more handsome and charismatic than he ever was. But Jacob forevermore loved you with a love that was more than love, and could never love another again; no one could ever compare to you. But to reiterate, he was used to sacrificing for his family, and if you were happier with John, he wouldn't and couldn't stop you from leaving him. He would want you and his baby brother to be happy together, even if it left him absolutely miserable...

Faith Seed: Grace Armstrong

It was a shock to Faith when you admitted your feelings for the sniper. Faith was angry, not at you, but at Grace. She was in denial and was convinced that Grace was just doing this to get you to join the Resistance, but that was far from the truth. Yes, Grace did want you to join the Resistance, but she adored you and would never force you to. And you adored her as well; the feelings were one hundred percent mutual. You and Faith loved each other, yet you didn't agree with the Project, which led to you leaving her and falling for a different woman. When you left, Faith took it hard and was depressed for months. She even took to a needle for help and secretly backslid. But Joseph helped her once again and Faith fully recovered after a while, vowing to seek revenge on Grace. And boy was she so goddamn determined to get you back...

Joey Hudson: Mary May Fairgrave

You and Hudson weren't together. You two flirted with each other and hooked up a few times, but you thought it was nothing more than just a few nights of harmless fun. However, something was brewing deep inside Joey's heart— she cared for you a whole lot more than she'd like to admit. Her heart would pound harder in her chest and her breath would get caught in her throat every single time she seen you in your police uniform. But everything changed when you went to arrest Joseph Seed and eventually met Mary May Fairgrave. You took a liking to her immediately when you locked eyes in that bar and you stopped fooling around with Joey. Of course Hudson was disheartened and wish she would've made a move on you a long time ago, but she knows she can't turn back time and she has to wait for you. She can only hope your feelings change, and that you love her like she loves you...

Staci Pratt: Joseph Seed

You and Staci were high school sweethearts; the two of you had known each other for a long time and you had just gotten married. Then, things took a turn for the worst— according to Pratt. You had moved to Hope County with him because of his new job opportunity. And eventually he had to go along with the Deputy, Hudson, Whitehorse, and Burke to arrest the Father. Somehow in a matter of months, you and Joseph became an item and you called things off with Staci. He was surprised, but mostly furious that you had fallen in love with an "insane cult leader." He thought it was useless to try to get you back because he was so discouraged. Staci cherished you so much that he was lost without you...

#far cry #far cry series #far cry 3 #far cry new dawn #far cry 5 oc #far cry 6 #far cry 5 #faith seed #farcry 5 #jacob seed #farcrygame #john seed #joseph seed #the father #fc3 #fc4 #fc5 #the deputy #staci pratt #fc5 john seed #joey hudson #baptist #fc5 fanfic #fc5 deputy #fc5 rp #fc5 fanart #fc5 fandom #fc5 screenshots #fc5 au #fc5 memes