#((while they're there; finding more signs that they're around; watching over them!))

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/722508703617728512/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

Dorian Gracey was not having a good morning.

“Another difficult night, sir?” Beauregard Ghast, the Gracey family’s butler, asked gently as he poured the young master a generous cup of coffee, which Dorian gratefully thanked him for, groaning, “Yes...another nightmare. At this point, I’m thinking of swearing sleep off entirely.”

“You probably just ate too close to bed,” his mother said knowingly (if still somewhat dismissively), taking a sip from her cup of tea while his father, who was only half-listening, was reading the morning paper between puffs of his cigar and swigs of coffee, as Mrs. Gracey continued, “We had a very late dinner last night, and dessert wasn’t your friend, I’m sure.”

I dreamt I was hanging by my neck until I was dead, Mother! Dorian thought to himself, as he took another long sip of coffee in a vain effort to wake up, as well as keep himself from snapping his mother. I don’t think that was caused by ice cream!

“You should go on more walks,” his father commented from behind his paper, still only half-paying attention. “A little fresh air will do you some good, my boy. You’ve been cooped up in the house too much-especially in that stuffy old conservatory, you should get out a bit more! Why, whenever I needed to get a little fresh air to clear my mind, I used to go horse-backing riding...”

Dorian sighed as he let his parents voices wash over him, rubbing his temple as he drained his cup before reaching for the pot to have another: Why was this happening to him? The dreams just didn’t stop keeping, dreams of dying, being dead...they were to make him want to stay up all hours, lest he experience the same nightmare over and over...he wished he had an answer, or at least someone to talk to them about, someone who’d understand...

Lizzie would understand.

No, no, he told himself silently, as he caught himself before his cup runneth over. I don’t want to worry her...God, I wish I could talk to her, really talk to her...I wish I could tell her how I really feel...but what’s the use? We could never be together...

[lady-raziel]

idk man i know times are hard but i can't help but feel that watcher putting all their eggs in the basket that is their own streaming service is a bad call. like sure i totally get wanting a platform where you have full control both creatively and financially but i feel they might be misjudging how much loyalty non-hardcore fans might have for what they're creating. in every internet fandom there's a subsection of people willing to pay with actual money to support the creators they enjoy, and that's what services like patreon are for. but to expect that casual viewers will sign up and pay a monthly fee to get access to just watcher content when a large portion of them were likely just watching the content because it was free and accessible on youtube assumes that someone who isn't a diehard fan won't just go "oh well" and find something else on youtube that IS still free? that seems like a miscalculation to me. the massive fanbases online content creators have may literally be only possible because the content is available to anyone-- it seems foolish to assume that every single one of those fans is going to stick around once you try to upsell them.

i hope this new venture goes well for the watcher crew. I really do. but i also know that a lot of brands and startups that bank on the loyalty they earned when their product was free or low cost and expect that to sustain them while they try to do something that historically has not gone well for the vast majority of businesses. at best, they'll have halved their fanbase by alienating those who can't or don't want to pay and made it much more difficult for remaining fans to create fandom products like memes or gifs that promote their shows on social media. at worst, they'll discover in the near future the independent streaming service model is unsustainable with only the fans they have left and by that point they'll have already deleted themselves from youtube and made it impossible to come back to the level of success they had before. any attempt to return to youtube will be an admission of a critical miscalculation and i doubt many remaining fans will tolerate the back and forth. they'll have crippled their credibility, relevancy, and fanbase loyalty over a very short period of time-- and i don't know if it would even be possible to come back and still be beloved after all that.

worst of all-- if the watcher streaming service crashes and burns after they've already removed all their content from youtube, all the watcher shows are essentially going to become lost media, only accessible via reuploaders willing to risk a copy strike or if you know someone who has a copy downloaded. given how genuinely good the watcher content is in the sea of lackluster youtube mush, that really seems like a damn shame.

i hope the watcher team sees how everyone is responding and decides to course correct before it's too late and get away with only the hit to their reputation that they've already taken by announcing this, instead of pushing forward on a path that might lose them everything instead. nothing i've said here is with any hate intended toward anyone involved or those who are excited about the new service, but this just seems like a really ill-advised decision to me.

[seijorhi]

the idea of oikawa not being ready when he meets his soulmate.

it isn't that he thinks you're not good enough, not pretty enough, not right for him, it's just that oikawa wasn't expecting to find you so soon.

soulmates are forever, you'll be there waiting for him when all's said and done, but his career in volleyball – it won't be. he's young, fit and hungry for it; in his absolute prime, but if he doesn't put in the effort now, give it everything, 100% of what he has... it'll slip right through his fingers.

he can't risk that.

there's a strange sort of desperation that tugs at his chest when he tries to explain, to get you to understand it. it's a sacrifice you'll both be making for the sake of the career he's dreamed of his whole life.

the way your smile slowly slips away when you realise he's not asking for you to be patient and give him grace when his focus is more on volleyball than you, he's saying he can't have you around at all, because you will distract him.

he'd lose himself in you.

it's not forever, he stresses, only a little while. you're perfect, and in a year or two when he's more settled in his role, the starting setter on the right team, heading to the championships, he'll be there to give you everything you deserve. no – more. he'll make it up to you, all he's asking for (but he's not really asking, is he) is a bit of time and space.

the light dims in your eyes, a strange, glassy look taking over, and slowly, so fucking slowly, you pull your hands from his, let them fall weakly to your side. it takes a monumental effort to not snatch them back up.

'yeah, okay.'

the expression on your face is all wrong, your voice almost robotic, but oikawa knows it's the right thing. you'll forgive him, because that's what soulmates do. you'll forgive him and then fall even more in love with him and oikawa will spend every damn day showering you in the love and affection he can. he'll drown you in it.

just give him this. let him give everything to volleyball, before he shares himself with you.

—

you're a little too good at it.

it's harder than he expected, going no contact. he was the one who wanted it – needed it, really, for this to work – but there'd been a small part of him that sort of hoped you'd ignore what he wanted and reach out anyway. he'd imagined sneaking a quick peek at his phone during a water break to see a message from you, something simple, casual, a 'hope things are good!' or 'i caught some of the game last week'. was it unfair of him to want you keeping track of him? to see how far he'd come in the days, weeks, months since he'd asked for time?

it's like an itch under his skin, and it grows. a few of his new teammates have met their soulmates, carry the marks to show for it. they're all smug as fuck about it, but the thing is whenever their soulmates are watching from the stands, they play with a different kind of fire. they're better. envy burns watching them celebrate afterwards, all hungry kisses and smiles too fucking big.

he knows you'd be there too if you could. you'd be there every damn game, all of their practices too, cheering him on. his biggest fan.

it's an ache. he goes home to an empty apartment, better than the one he had when he met you, in a nicer part of town, but no less lifeless. there's no one to welcome him home, to wrap him up in a hug, kiss him how he likes and soothe away the days stresses. no one to warm his bed, no other pussy'll ever be as tempting as yours.

i miss you.

i'm thinking of you.

would it kill you to break his rules and reach out every now and then? to give him some kind of sign that this distance was driving you half as crazy as it was him?

are you trying to punish him?

it occurs to him that you probably don't have his phone number. it shouldn't have stopped you, because it wouldn't've stopped him.

—

the first time he tries to follow your instagram you block his account.

it's irritating, until he remembers that you're probably trying to abide by his rules. he can't exactly get mad at you for that, tries not to, and instead does what any sane man missing his soulmate would do; creates a fake account, steals a picture from one of his sister's friends and uses that as his profile pic – even goes so far as to follow a bunch of your friends’ accounts too, just so it doesn't look suspicious or weird when he follows you too.

and for a little while, it's enough. he can see what you're up to, who you're hanging out with, where you're going. he'll watch all your stories, your friends’ stories, just for a few seconds of you.

(maybe strokes his cock to a few of them, cums in his sheets gasping your name.)

you're being patient, he's being good, it's only for a few more months, he can last a little longer–

there's a new post on your insta, a snap of you and some asshole with his arm wrapped around your waist, your lips pressed to his cheek.

'Happy six months, love you a little more every day!'

[orionremastered]

hi! I was wondering how the bats would be with a reader who is disabled or has prosthetics? they're all just very protective of people they care about since...everything, and how maybe that could start to feel sufacating at some point? Or something, idk dude

(also-the way you write is realy cute and sweet for all of them, makes them feel a lot less heavy when they have someone to hold them <33)

Masterlist

Batboys with a Disabled S/O

Dick Grayson [Fully Deaf]

A gentle touch on your shoulder prompts you to slowly turn around, a smile stretching across your face when you realise your boyfriend's back from work.

You pull him into your arms, threading your fingers through his hair. Pulling away reluctantly, you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he's not smiling; only a sad smile that makes you tilt your head in a silent question.

Don't worry about it, he signs. Have a good day?

You nod, though your frown remains when he moves to the kitchen, always adamant that he cooks whenever he's home. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, frowning at the caller ID and puts the phone on speaker as he begins cooking.

Dick gets more and more angry as the conversation goes on, his hands waving wildly around the small kitchen, only stopping to return to the cooking.

Finally, he hangs up. You tap him on the shoulder and he turns, watching as you sign;

Who was that?

Dick's shoulders raise and drop. A case I'm working on. I'll figure it out.

You nod slowly, satisfied with his response.

Jason Todd [Fully Blind]

Mornings with Jason always start like this. They always start with you gently running your fingers across his face, mapping it out and imagining it in your head. Over his nose, his lips, his stubble.

"Did you clean the apartment?" you ask, lying on top of him as your guide dog sits next to you on the mattress. "I almost knocked one of your guns off the counter yesterday."

"I did," he murmurs. You rest your fingers on his lips and feel that they're stretched into a smile. "I'm sorry for letting it get messy."

"That's okay," you reply quietly, "Ollie picked it up before it hit the floor."

Ollie, your guide dog, makes a huffing sound beside you, causing you both to chuckle.

"Good boy," Jason says proudly, feeling him shift underneath you, mostly likely to pat Ollie.

"You're both good. Too good, maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason asks.

"Hmm."

Tim Drake [Classical Ehlers-Danlos syndrome]

"Love? Can we go for a camping trip on the weekend with my friends?"

Tim turns his head slowly as he sits in his study chair. He taps the pen he's holding against his lips. "What happens if you get exhausted?"

"We can go back to the tent and rest."

"You can get bruises. A lot of bruises," he frowns, gesturing for you to walk to him. You comply.

"That's fine, they're just bruises," you respond, sitting on his lap. He begins gently drawing shapes on the bare skin of your thighs.

"You could dislocate something," he says to you, quieter now.

"You know how to put it back. You do it for me all the time."

Tim's brow furrows at the reminder of having to put back in dislocated joints more often than he'd like. "Fine. But if you even start to get a little tired, you tell me. Okay?"

You rest your forehead against his and murmur, "Okay."

Damian Wayne [Prosthetic Arm]

"I'll take those—"

"Damian, I love you, but I can put shopping bags into the car just fine." This and many similar conversations have been going on practically since the start of your relationship. And while you do find it endearing that he cares, sometimes you just want him to treat you like you didn't lose your right arm in an accident.

The man scowls. "But—"

"I'm not going to hurt myself, really."

He watches you warily, weighing the outcomes of the situation. "Fine. Only the lighter ones."

You suppose it's better than not being able to do any of them. Still, he watches you like a hawk as you put the lighter ones in the back of the car he bought you (you protested but that man has the most selective hearing).

He closes the trunk/boot after the bags are inside.

"Can I drive?" you ask, hoping you'll get luck there too.

"No."

"I know how."

"No."

[aestrayla]

cherries or peaches? ft. obey me! brothers

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! brothers x f!reader

cw: highly suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (darling, sweetheart), fondling, groping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.5k

a/n: sorry for some of them being so short, it was actually kind of challenging trying to elaborate on the ideas rather than just plainly stating them out as they are, but i hope u still enjoy them just as much as i enjoyed writing them ^^ also, don't mind my shitty humour in the last two + i haven’t written for most of these characters before so they might sound off idk??

at first, it was hard to tell whether lucifer preferred ass or boobs.

he would always reply to you with a, "i prefer them both, equally," or a, "why should i choose when i can like them both?"

it drove you crazy because you clearly asked him to choose either one or the other. he was always dodging the question and at some point, you even got the brothers in on this, some bets were made too.

"it's obvious he likes ass more, have you seen the way he looks at y/n when they're wearing that skirt he bought for them?"

"nah he totally like boobs more, he can't keep his eyes off ‘em whenever they're wearin' a tight shirt!"

soon you started to take these signs into account, wearing much more revealing things to try and catch a reaction out of him, but to your demise, he never seemed to crack.

after weeks of bet-making and skin-revealing lucifer had finally had enough. the two of you were both lying in bed, facing one another while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

"y/n," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed in response.

"isn't it obvious i like these better?"

he pulled himself closer to you as his face buried against your chest. oh you thought. he had always found comfort sleeping against you like this, his head stuffed between your boobs while his arms wrapped around you tightly, that it became natural and you had almost forgot he did it.

"shit— you should've told me earlier! now we've all lost our bets to mammon!" you whined.

you could hear his muffled chuckles vibrate against your body as you wrapped your arms around his head, squeezing him closer.

mammon is 100% an ass-loving guy, no questions asked.

with mammon, no matter what you're doing, what you're wearing, where you are, or who you're with, he just loves touching you all the damn time.

whether you're walking through the halls of RAD to your next class or taking a stroll through the devildom while window shopping, he won't hesitate to sneak his hands up your skirt to feel your plump ass.

"mammon stop, we're in public!" you glare as you swat his hands away.

"’m sorry can't help it, just gotta have my hands all over ya!"

oh well, maybe next time he’d be lucky enough to sneak his hands further down your skirt and— who knows, you might just find yourself begging him for more.

and if it's just the two of you in your own company, you'll always find that his hands like to slip past the waistband of your panties just to lay onto your cheeks, rubbing and squeezing at the plump flesh. always smiling in delight as you squirm under his carnal touch.

as much as you like to complain, he always swears that "it's just comfortable!" or "my hands were just cold!"

there is no doubt in my mind that leviathan wouldn't be on team cherries.

he always lets you sit on his lap whenever he's grinding a video game or on an anime-watching marathon. a recent occurrence you've taken note of is that, almost as if it's a reflex, he'll always end up having a hand or two resting on your boobs, casually squeezing at it as if he owns the thing.

"you must be real comfortable there, levi." you teased, motioning to where his hand laid.

"huh— OH! um, I-I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" he shot his hands up in defense. "it's just really soft… and warm... I'm sorry y/n." his face was bright red.

"it's fine, i was just teasing you, silly!"

there was also a time where you scolded levi for owning one of those mouse pads where ruri-chan’s the characters boobs would be squishy.

in desperate need to make it up to you, he custom ordered a version with you on it, only because he swears out of all his waifus, you're his absolute favourite.

it was a rainy night, and in the comfort of the library beside a crackling fireplace, you were messing around on your d.d.d while satan was next to you, reading what you assumed to be a mystery book.

"hey satan?" you put your d.d.d down for a moment, turning to look at him.

"hm?" he hummed, while keeping his eyes glued to the page.

"do you prefer ass or boobs?"

he pauses to look up at you and closes his book, placing it beside him, all while sighing.

"what does it look like i prefer?" he deadpans.

you break his eye contact as you look down to see his left hand buried under your sweater, which was fondling with your boob this entire time.

"so... boobs?"

he replies while picking his book up again, "yes darling, don't ask such foolish questions."

asmo loves boobs. your boobs to be specific.

don't blame him, your boobs are just so pretty and he loves pretty things.

the way they sit when you're wearing a low-cut garment, or the way they shine when you're having a bubble bath together. he loves it all.

as you know, asmo loves pampering you and surprises you with random gifts whenever he finds something that he'd love to see you in.

one night as he's doing your hair after a bath, he suddenly remembers something and stands to walk to his closet.

"the other day when i was shopping at majolish, i found this super pretty bra i thought you'd look just gorgeous in!" he approaches you with a box wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

as you open the box, you set your eyes on a beautiful red laced bra.

"are you sure i'd look good in this?"

"you look perfect in everything sweetheart, you know i’d never lie about that."

he's always buying you pretty things to wear, and trust me when i say, this definitely isn’t the first bra he's ever gotten you.

beel could not care less about choosing between your ass or boobs. they're both squishy and feel nice in his hands so it didn't really matter to him. well, not until today.

getting up from the edge of the bed and turning your heel to face him, you asked, "did you know a new cafe opened up in the devildom recently?"

"really? what food do they sell there?" he asked, his eyes looked as if there were stars in them.

"well apparently their cakes are a specialty, they're pretty popular for it."

"cake?" he drooled, "i love cake! hey we should go to the cafe right now, i'm starving." he sat up from the edge of the bed, drooling like a puppy dog.

little did he know, you decided to be a little jokester today.

"oh you're starving right now? then here," you turn around, bending over.

"what are you doing y/n?"

you turn your head back to look at his confused expression, "you said you were starving right? the cake's right here," you pointed to your ass.

he stares at you for a moment. then at your ass. then back at you again.

"so there's no cafe, is there?" he wipes his drool away with the back of his hand.

"nope. but there sure is cake," you smile cheekily while shuffling closer.

he sighs while grabbing ahold of your thighs, dragging you just inches away from his lips, "you're lucky i like this kind of cake too."

as long as he can sleep on them, belphie will like them no matter what. so when it comes to choosing between your ass or boobs, it can be a hard decision just to choose one.

belphie's "sleepability" criteria is: soft, warm and comfortable; and your boobs and ass were equal competition.

he sighs, "if i have to choose one over the other, i'd rather sleep on your ass all day" his reasoning being because your ass has more of an "even surface" compared to your boobs.

if you're ever just lounging around the house of lamentation, on your stomach specifically, within seconds you'll feel belphie's arms wrap around your legs while he lays his head onto you.

its crazy how instantly he falls asleep on you. he'd stay like that forever if you didn't have to get up to pee or because your legs fall numb.

"c'mon belphie, i needa pee so bad!" you squirm.

"mmmphh," he grumbles, half-asleep, while hugging onto your legs even tighter.

"hurry up or i'll fart on your face!" you threaten him jokingly.

"OKAY, OKAY!" he shoots up from his position and is scrambling to the edge of the bed. you laugh in response because it works every time.

"and i was having a good dream too!" he scowled, while rubbing his left eye from sleep.

looking for pt.2? you can find it here ♡

©2023 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.

[monocaelia]

with my hand in yours.

as your fingers trace along the lines that make up their palm, they wonder how such a wonderful being like you could ever love someone like them. aka; little abstract thoughts about what their hands would be like.

feat. al-haitham, childe, diluc, kaveh, scaramouche, xiao.

genre : fluff. light angst but it's not that serious.

note : school sucks and i want to hold hands w childe so bad rn so here is the product of that thought.

❀ AL-HAITHAM

contrary to what you may think, al-haitham's hands are large and calloused; not to the point of being overly rough, but enough to know that he keeps his hands busy from both paperwork and dealing with unruly people that come across his way. which is surprising considering that he was always one to take the easiest route out of any situation.

but you suppose someone who is adept at using a sword and dealing with eremites and annoying scholars can't just get away with smooth hands.

your hand is much smaller than his in comparison, especially so when his encases your own while you reach for a book you cannot quite reach within the house of daena. you insist that you could reach it yourself, but after minutes of watching you struggle and nearly make the bookshelf topple over as you lean more and more onto the shelves, he decided to take matters into his own hands. although you hate it when he aids you without you asking for help, he finds it endearing, especially so when he gets an excuse to hold your hand like this.

sometimes, the scribe doesn't understand your fascination with his hands as your fingers lazily trace shapes and lines across his palm while his eyes skim through the book in his hands. your body rests against him, head gently propped on his chest and fingers busy with his. although it was a distracting feeling, it was one he welcomed and preferred rather than the presence of his dramatic roommate.

though, al-haitham cannot deny that he doesn't find the contrast between the size of his hands and you amusing. how different your jaw feels in his palm as he lifts your face up to keep your eyes on him during your study session. your soft skin against his rougher hands was a nice feeling, a contrast that he finds humor in despite the blank expression that never leaves his face.

even if you push him away, fed up from his constant deadpan comments and dry teasing, your hand always finds their way back in his with fingers intertwined as he skims through the next book that catches his attention. with a gentle squeeze and a kiss placed on the tops of your knuckles, al-haitham holds onto you until it is unfortunately time to part ways. but even then, the ghost of your palm presses against his when you're gone and he cannot wait to hold you once more.

❀ CHILDE

the scars the decorate childe's hands are ones that he holds with much pride. they're living proof of the battles that he has conquered and pushed through with mere strength and wit; and there isn't a moment where he would ever hide his battle scars.

childe's hands are rough and calloused with toughened skin from years of fighting, both from training for the fatui and also from surviving through his time in the abyss.

but despite it all, a sign of humanity shines through his hardened hands; light freckles dust the back of his hands and his knuckles and travel up his arm. though they aren't as condensed as the ones that shower his cheeks like the stars, they're still enough to attract your attention to them when his gloves are off around you.

his hand often clings onto yours as he guides you to places you've never seen before in his home nation. with gloved hands intertwined with one another, childe eagerly tugs you along the banks of morepesok, gently guiding you along the more troublesome and icier parts of the path so you wouldn't slip. his hand, sturdy and strong, gently presses against the small of your back while the other holds one of yours as you hop over a rock.

other times, his hand is held carefully by yours as you admire all of scars with him. the young harbinger finds it humorous when you stare at him in shock after telling you about the battles he fought to get them before getting a firm lecture by you about taking care of himself. he doesn't see the big deal; if he's the fatui's biggest asset when it comes to fighting, why wouldn't he want to be used as their weapon?

however, seeing your tearful expression as he comes home battered from a serious battle shatters his proud heart into a million pieces. he warned you about the duties he has a fatui harbinger, and yet you continued to love him and stay by his side. childe wasn't a good guy, per se, and there would be times where there would be no signs of him coming home at all. but you persevered, telling him that he was crazy for even thinking that you would be scared away because of his job.

his thumb, rough and heavily scarred, brushes away the tears from your cheek as you clean up the blood that soils his clothes. you're so much different than he is; someone who is not bludgeoned and terrorized by the horrors of the abyss or the power of the fatui. and yet you hold him like he is your world, like he's fourteen again and didn't have the scars of the world on his body.

❀ DILUC

diluc's hands tell the tragic tale of his past; scarred from years of avenging his father with only his great sword by his side and burned from training and utilizing the pyro vision that dangles by his waist. he is damaged and hurt from years of betrayal and the deep scars that run up his hands to his arms are visual evidence of them.

but, despite his cool attitude and standoffish personality, his hands are the warmest you have ever felt. as if the agony his heart experienced in the few years of his adulthood failed to extinguish the flickering flame that keeps his soul ablaze.

the young master of dawn winery's rough hands hold onto yours gently, fingers cupping your own as he brings them to his lips as a polite, yet cheeky greeting knowing you would fluster at the mere act. they're playful, often traveling up your arms after his small greeting and pulling you into his embrace. the flame that was once ignited by rage, burning with the intent to harm those who have wronged him, now lulls you in with the intent of making your heart race.

diluc is aware of the effect his hands have on you, especially during battles where the two of you are fighting alongside one another. gloved hands quickly reach out to grab you, pulling you behind him as his flaming great sword slams forward to knock the abyss mage into the ground. although the battle was over, his hand does not leave your arm and you knew at this point that he was leaving it there deliberately.

his touch, as playful as they get sometimes, were also one that you found solace in, especially when the cold winter air of mondstadt nips at your skin. although diluc worries you find his hands worrisome to look at and feel, all of his disrupting thoughts melt away when your hand squeezes his in return. and so, hands roughened by the most painful of memories hold yours and give you the comfort that you seek.

and comfort you, they do. when the heavy rain outside the winery drenches you to the bone, diluc's warm, scarred hands quickly pull you inside. he doesn't ask you what happened, instead waits for you to tell him yourself, and with a towel in his hands he dries you as much as he can. attracted to his touch like a moth to a flame, your shaking hands quickly grasp onto his own and cling to his being like he was the sole reason you were still sane.

and just once, diluc is happy that you find relief in embers that once burned with no remorse.

❀ KAVEH

kaveh's hands are slender and smooth, contrary to the fact that he wields a heavy claymore as his weapon of choice. anyone would assume that his hands are rough from hours spent on studying architecture and building miniature and actual scale models of his designs, but those who know the young architect are aware of his fondness towards body and skin care.

if anything, the only flaw that hinders kaveh from having the perfect, flawless hands that anyone would dream of would be the smudges of both ink and graphite from his drafts of architectural buildings that stain his fingertips and sides of his hands.

you can't imagine the amount of times your face had ended up accidentally smudged by the inked fingers of your lover. soft, thin fingers lovingly brush the side of your face, moving a stray strand of your hair that obstructs his view of you, only to reveal a smudge of graphite where his fingers just touched. no matter how many apologies spewed from his lips, the smudge remained and small bouts of laughter escape from your lips before reassuring the young architect that it was fine.

however, when his fingers are clean, they're often found touching you in only the most innocent ways. his skilled fingers gently rub in the moisturizer on your face, huffing in fake exasperation as you laugh and attempt to escape his pinching and prodding. with enough squirming and chuckles, kaveh finally squishes your face in between his soft hands, tilting your face to look directly at him. affection is evident with the way he stares at you, smile warmer than the sunshine that radiates brightly in sumeru city, before he quickly bends down to peck at your puckered lips.

there's nothing but love and care in the way that he touches you, regardless of when or where it happens. his nimble fingers find their way to your arm when you drift asleep against him, waiting for him to finish up his draft of the new building he's designing. they graze across your skin, skimming everything that makes you you, the you that the architect loves so dearly.

sometimes he wonders what you see in a simple architect that shoots too far to land on the stars, but if you're beside him with every step that he takes, kaveh feels as though every star is suddenly in reach.

❀ SCARAMOUCHE

ball joints similar to a dolls connect and form the hands that belong to scaramouche, a permanent reminder of the reason he was birthed into this world. as much as he hates looking at them and no matter how much he does to erase his past, they haunt him and contain the memories that he wishes to leave in the past.

maybe then, he would feel more human and let his once fragile heart breathe once more.

similar to a doll's hand, his hands are also smooth and dainty with only a few permanent scars on his fingertips. faint lightning scars trail from his finger tips to his second knuckle and slight calloused fingertips from tending to the doll he calls his "wandering companion."

despite the living proof of his existence as a puppet, there are a few moments where he feels human, where he feels as of his heart could beat once more and hope is flourishes throughout his weathered soul. when your fingers intertwine with his and your palm presses gently against his own, it's as if his forgotten heart had grown wings, fluttering on its own after years of stagnant pain.

feeling your pulse beat against his skin and the gentle tug of his arm as you lead him reminds the wanderer that despite his harsh past and the betrayals that led him astray, he lived through them and is living life anew, a life where he controls the trajectory of his life. and one where he is loved by you.

as much as he hates his hands, he cannot stop you from loving them in his place. when you kiss his fingertips and rub comforting circles across his skin, it's hard for his hatred to fester and grow; for how can he hate something that you love.

not that he would ever admit it to you; always flicking your roaming hands away from his and pinching the fat of your thumb when they reach for his. he calls your touch "annoying" and a "nuisance," but when it's his turn to watch over you during the night, his pinky never fails to interlock with yours.

❀ XIAO

xiaos' hands are rough to the touch, fingertips slender and sharp like the talons of a hawk ready to snatch its prey from where they lay. after centuries of fighting off enemies and protecting the mortals that reside peacefully in liyue, it would be more surprising if not a scar decorated the yaksha's skin.

he is cool to the touch; not needing to generate body heat as he has no need to stay warm and used to the cold from serving his previous master.

blood stains his palms from the lives he took, whether it was accidental or on purpose he doesn't remember any more. innocent lives were mixed in when he dealt with enemies and his karmic debt affected those around him even if he wanted to suffer alone.

and yet, you hold his hands as if he were a small finch; fragile and prone to dying even though he is anything but. your hands are so warm, nearly encompassing his entire being with a mere brush of your fingertips against his. it was inviting, enticing, something that he craved even though he shouldn't.

despite pushing you away when his karmic debt was going to take over, your hands still found his and held on with little to no regard of your own wellbeing.

"as long as i get to you, it doesn't matter," was always your excuse when he demanded why you did something so reckless.

even if he hated the thought of his curse harming you in the worst way possible and feared the mere possibility of losing you, the yaksha could not calm the happiness that fluttered in his chest as if erupting a nest of a million crystalflies within the cavity of where his heart used to be.

you who kiss the scars that litters his hands, as if you were scared that the young adeptus would be the first to disappear from your life, deserve better than him, someone who has innocent blood pooling from his fingertips. but he does not have the heart to deny you from holding his hand and pulling him close, for he loves you too much to even humor the thought of a life apart from you.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

The angelic peeps (I don’t mind who) with a sinner reader who had been mistaken as angel because of their form. Just them getting shooed inside heaven and ends up being like 👁️👄👁️????

Hell is forever! And Heaven... is also forever?

Adam

Now, when you'd appeared, you had no idea where you were, or what the actual fuck was happening.

So when you witnessed an angelic figure slashing down some creepy little creature, you naturally freaked out.

When you were approached by an angel, if that angel shopped at forever 21.

The Goth angels having their weapons drawn you'd freeze, the two freezing as they stared at you.

"The Hell are you doing here?" One would as with a disnctly feminine tone.

You, completely off guard, would blurt out. "I'mmm... lost?" You speak, feeling like you were playing the greatest gamble of your life.

The two would look at each other for several moments before one would sigh. "Great, a normie?"

"We sure they're a Winner?" The second Angel spoke.

"Mmmm." The second hummed. "You ever seen a Sinner look as good as them?"

The second placed a hand to her chin. "... Nah."

The first groaned, rubbing her oddly yellow Gray face. "If this gets out, this is gonna be a mountain of paperwork."

"Uhhh, we don't have paperwork." The other hummed, raising a brow.

"Yeah well, if Adam finds out about this he'll make us sign autographs for him for the next 3 weeks."

"I don't know why he does that, he's the only one that uses them."

As the two grumbled between each other, you just stood there, waiting and unsure of what to do as the two bitched back and forth.

After a while more of this, they'd snap to you.

"Alright, fine, come on then." The angel grumbled, walking over to you.

You didn't get to react before she suddenly grabbed you, flying up into the air and scaring the crap out of you. It took a minute but they flew you through the massive hole in the sky.

She placed you on the cushy cloud like road, the Angel hushing you as she snuck you past St. Peter, popping open the gate and shoving you inside.

"Look, you didn't see anything. I didnt see you. You didnt see us. Got it!?" She asked coldly.

You just nodded back, the woman glaring at you before shutting the gate, leaving you... somewhere.

That answer was quickly, well, answered, as turning around you found yourself in... Heaven.

Oh, well that's...

Wait?

HEAVEN!?

Did you just... luck your way into heaven?

Apparently you did as you were quickly welcomed into heaven, the populous eagerly welcoming you.

And well... it was Heaven!

Everything was fun and carefree and there was So. Much. Singing!

It'd be when you attended a rock show, you eagerly watching as Adam himself played lead, the whole thing incredible.

Youd somehow end up behind the scenes after the show, a variety of virtue Winners all flaunting over the Band members, especially Adam, the man surrounded by Winners.

Of course, your appearance instantly caught his attention, the man perking right up and the next thing you knew the man was all over you, the man boldly chatting you up.

Now, Adam was... well, he was a prick, but he had a charm to him when he w a s trying to be charming, the man a mix of complements and criticisms, the man always sure to play himself up.

Now, look, your not entirely proud, nor ashamed, but well... you fucked.

And admittedly... it was pretty good. Adam was a dick but, well, he knew how to use his... mostly.

And that's how you fucked the first man.

Now, you have no doubt his initial interest was all about your physical appearance, after all, your body had been what got you into heaven in the first place.

Now you'd think after that first night you'd never see the Man again, expecting to be another one of his 'conquests', before he moved along on.

Okay, so yeah, you had his number.

And yeah, he regularly called you up for a booty call.

But its not like you totally hung out after said booty calls. Eating takeout and casually chatting.

Or just laying on his belly as you scrolled your respective phones, neither of you saying anything as you just chilled.

And you totally didn't perk right up when you saw his caller ID, greeting him as 'dickmaster', the two of you flirting hard before you'd end up at his place.

And sure, you had a drawer at his place, and a pillow, not to mention a bathrobe.

...

...

...

Well fuck.

Okay, yeah, so you were, uh, 'going steady', not that the first man would admit as much, but yeah, things were, well, fun.

Sure Adam could be a dick, but with some strick words, and a smack across the face, the man was surprisingly apologetic. Like, he was still a dick, and an ardent one at that, but behind closed doors he was amazingly simple, the man quite chill as you enjoyed each other's company.

Now, you'd always kept your status as a sinner hidden, I mean, it's not like anyone suspected you, how could a sinner end up in heaven, am I right?

But you were in Hell, and well, he wasn't super open about it, but it was clear Adam detested the Sinners, the man proudly speaking on how much he despised them.

Your relationship would develope on for several months before he noticed something off with you.

"Where's your Halo?" He'd ask so causally after you'd both chewed down on some Chinese food.

You'd freeze, mind rushing as you thought up a valid excuse, going over the several you'd made up in a paranoid stupor.

"It... uh, it's kinda ugly, I keep it stored away."

The man stared at you for several minutes, before shrugging, the two of you going right back to how you were.

And so, you went on for several more months like this, growing even closer, spending a great amount of time with each other.

It'd be one day as the man goes on and on about 'filthy sinners' you unsure how to react, as on one hand you kinda were a sinner, but on the other you could go the rest of eternity without ever broaching the subject.

But well, why make things easy.

So you brought it up, asking him what he really though.

Unsurprisingly, the man had not a kind word about them, so you asked cooly what if you were a sinner?

Of course, you asked it in a flirty tone, the two of you quickly getting playful.

He'd tell you how he'd have to 'punish' you, giving you his 'righteous sword', the two of you having some especially nasty sex.

Your life was good, you and Adam got closer and closer, to the point you ended up moving in with him.

Everything was perfect... and then it wasn't.

You'd been found out. Over something so simple too.

Your blood.

You'd cut your finger.

You bled.

Their blood was gold.

Yours wasn't.

It hadn't come up, but one of the seraphim noticed, and... well.

The courtroom was something.

Adam losing his shit over this whole thing, while you just kept quiet.

Eventually you'd confess, telling them how you'd been ushered in during an extermination, you honestly not even sure where you were supposed to be.

You'd apologise to Adam, in tears as you told him you loved him, and that you never meant to cause any of this.

Now, it wasn't just a one sided argument, Adam as well as many of your friends came to your defence, many pointing out how you'd fit right in in heaven for ages, and now all of a sudden it was an issue?

That would certainly cause some issue amongst Heavens leadership.

Adam was especially vocal, saying he hated Sinners more than anybody but you clearly weren't like the other scum that get spit out into Hell, you were... special.

Now, there's 2 ways this could go.

1. Heaven simply doesn't care, expelling you from Heaven leaving your friends and Adam to fight for you. I doubt Adam would fall for you, but he'd certainly keep fighting for you, ironically, in this timeline, Adam would 100% be on Charlie's side. Man absolutely all for redemption.

Especially if you joined the hotel, you kinda being proof Sinners could live in heaven.

It'd be quite the star crossed lovers situation, the both of you from different worlds, doing your absolute best to be reunited.

Or 2. You'd be put under 'house arrest', you being restricted to a very limit area, I.e. Adams apartment, the two of you under guard most hours of the day while they 'figured things out'.

And youd basically spend all your time with Adam, the two of you growing even closer, and again, he'd be on Charlie's side this time around, man eager not so much to work with Hell, but to see if there was a way to get you in heaven permanently, he'd bloody well fight for it.

Emily

Showing up to heaven, you'd quite literally run into her, meeting Emily, the young Seraphim eager and always happy to meet a new resident of heaven.

Especially one as appealing to the eyes as you were.

You'd have some fun moments, the girl eagerly showing you around.

Funnily enough, that'd keep happening.

You'd find her randomly, or she'd find you, the two of you bumping into each other often as she showed somebody around.

And so, you'd tag along, the two of you often showing new residents the ins and outs of heaven. You gaining quite a large pool of friends for your efforts.

The two of you would steadily grow closer through this, spending lots of time together, you'd developed a fairly flirty relationship, as while she was undoubtedly innocent and pure, she wasn't above some playful flirting, though she always kept it wholesomely chaste.

You'd spend more and more time together,

Spending long periods together, you'd grow closer and closer, you and Emily developing quite the... ship.

I say 'ship' cause it wasn't quite a friendship, nor a relationship. You were in a limbo between the two.

It'd be one day after you stood up for her with a particularly rude arrival, the man seemingly loosing his mind.

Not all too odd. People had very different reactions to finding out they're dead.

But it'd be as you helped her too her feet, gently cupping her face that you'd ask her out on a date. Like, a date-date, kinda date.

And with that adorable blush of hers, she'd agree.

It was a simple affair.

You'd take her to dinner, a simple, humble dinner. Nothing crazy or over the top, just an intimate little thing.

Just like your relationship.

And after walking her home, you started dating with a warm kiss, and not much really changed.

You still spent all day together, showing arrivals around and just having fun.

But now~ you got to kiss. And you had date nights. Your relationship and romance only growing stronger by the day.

You'd actually end up telling Emily about you being a sinner.

It'd be something you wanted to tell her for ages, you telling her about everything.

How you were in Hell, and ended up in heaven, and you'd been there for so long you honestly didn't know where you belonged.

Emily of course was sooooo supportive, the woman promising to keep your secret, swearing to protect you.

You'd honestly live a very happy life with her, the two of you happy with just each other, even as you hid your past, constantly paranoid somebody would realise it one day.

Now there's kind of two ways this could go.

The first; your found out and Emily gets exposed for hiding you. A very serious action, though teeechically not illegal as it'd never been done before.

But still, knowingly hiding a sinner was a serious offence.

So, it could go two ways, either heaven realises that you aren't this evil monster, likely confining you to your home, monitoring you at all hours, likely only letting Emily visit.

It'd be tough, but upon Pentious' redemption the question of you being opened again, Emily being even more eager this time round.

Or they outright exile you, Emily potentially getting into trouble due to it.

Regardless of what happened, you and Emily would love each other, through thick and thin.

Lute

NOW!

I think we all know Lutes opinion on Sinners, an opinion she'd make sure you knew.And while it was a major insecurity for you, terrified she'd find out.

Of course, Lutes wouldn't believe it possible, you being a sinner. You were waaaaay to attractive to be some filthy Sinner.

Yet outside of that, you had such a passionate romance, the two of you doing many, MANY unholy deeds in the bedroom.

Your romance was... let's say physical.

Lute was a dominant individual, forced to be when dealing with Adam most days, as such, easily took charge of most situations.

Now, you'd keep your past hidden, naturally, not wanting to destroy your relationship.

The purges would be... a contentious point. The girl no doubt telling you, either directly or indirectly, and while she thought little of it, it would shake you, knowing the person you loved relished killing souls so avidly.

Lute... well, she'd certainly have a reaction to this.

Having the person she loved challenge her beliefs would leave her a little off guard, the woman forced to really reassess her beliefs.

Now, I don't see her genuinely changing those beliefs entirely, but I could see her toning them down, the woman maybe even a little compassionate to their plight.

Now... there's a reasonable chance Lute would figure out what you were, despite your good looks, the woman has first hand experience with Sinners, so she'd know far better then most on what a sinner looks like.

But she also wouldn't care too much to pay attention to what makes a sinner a 'sinner'.

But... well, it'd come out eventually.

Likely you telling her, confessing to her that your not sure if your supposed to be in Heaven or Hell, Lute completely caught off guard.

She'd likely outright ignore it, shrugging it off, believing it all a misunderstanding. And if you pushed the subject she'd shut you down, telling you not to talk about it.

But it'd be as you held her to your chest, the woman crying as she sat in your lap, arm missing.

You'd tell her your sorry, that you love her, but you were a sinner, and that you understood if she despised you, but you couldn't live a lie anymore.

And so, after caring for her, ensuring her arm was cared for, you'd turn yourself in

Ironically just as Pentious was reincarnated and well, the next step would be on Lute.

Hey y'all, I wanna thank you all for 4 THOUSAND FOLLOWERS!!! I am so honoured so many have deemed me good enough to follow.

(I do want to apologise for taking so long, I've been dealing with a tremendous amount of personal issues and haven't had much time for writing.)

But seriously, I wanna thank every last one of you for being here and supporting me. I love every last one of you and I hope my content has helped at least one of you feel better.

P.s. I would have done more angelic character, and might in the future, but I was drawing a blank and wanted to get this out asap.

[lamemaster]

Made of Sugar

Request: Hi! Hope this finds you well, mind if i req for a Thranduil x reader where they're like telling legolas how they met, maybe they met during the war of the last alliance? anyways love ur work especially the angst but now i need some not angst? cus im actually going to cry lmao

Pairing: Thranduil x Wife Reader

Genre: Fluff

AN: This has been due a long time! I'm sorry for the delay but this writer suffers from smooth brain 98% of the time.

“Legolas Thranduilion!” Your voice rings out loud, breaking his thoughts. For once, he wishes his father's presence was there. “Have I not made it clear that you are not to go to the wine cellars?” You pinch your nose blinking furiously as was your habit when agitated. 

Legolas hasn’t known love stronger than the one he has felt for you, his eme. Your stories, your songs, the little stars you paint on the roof of his room– Legolas absorbs them with the wide-eyed devotion of a sunflower turning its face to the first rays of the sun.  

But all that love does not diminish the distress of your anger. You, the one who laughed most easily, whose smile could chase away any shadow, were now a storm cloud gathered over his head.

The familiar scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke that clung to you did little to soothe the storm brewing in your eyes. Legolas flinched – he knew the terrifying, steely glint that hardened your gaze when truly angered. It was a sight rarer than a dust storm in Greenwood, but all the more impactful when it came. 

 At barely 80 years old, facing your wrath felt far more daunting than any monstrous spider lurking in the Greenwood.

"You are too young," you said, your voice tight. "Just you wait until I tell Thranduil." You paced around the room, pinching the bridge of your nose, a telltale sign of your agitation. "Maybe he will listen and move the wine cellars away from the main palace."

Staring at the untouched cakes, Legolas yearned for nothing more than for this tension to pass. He longed to see your easy smile return.  The sight of untouched cakes, usually a source of joy, only emphasized the heavy weight of your displeasure. He longed for the days when your laughter filled the room, chasing away any shadow.

“Beloved queen of mine,” Thranduil sauntered in, his footsteps barely a whisper on the polished floor. The scent of pine needles and leather, a familiar trail, announced his presence even before he entered. “The cellar unfortunately cannot be moved.” Thranduil is already in the process of taking off his heavy robes while detangling his hair from the crown's tiny branches.

Legolas watched with a flicker of worry as your eyes narrowed in annoyance before you gave up to help his ada. "He went in there today," your gaze felt heavy on him even as you busied yourself helping Thranduil detangle the crown. "What if he drank your wine? That thing is disgusting and Legolas is too young. You must move the wine somewhere else." You placed the crown on the table.

Thranduil threw him an amused grin as your back remained turned to them as you instructed the staff to bring fresh snacks and tea. "What if I didn't get there in time…good thing Feren was kind enough to inform me."

"I am disappointed Legolas," Thranduil looked at him without an ounce of anger, and your glare at the king of Greenwood told him that this did not go unnoticed by you. "But I am sorry, my love," He looked up at you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, "The cellars must remain untouched. I would never in a million ages, change the place of our first meeting."

Legolas' breath hitched in his throat. You frowned. And Thranduil snickered in delight.

"You cannot be serious!" You replied indignantly.

"You met in the wine cellars?!" Legolas asked at the same time.

"We did, ion," Thranduil adds before you can cover his lips with your palm. Thranduil throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. A weird sight to see you this flustered, this agitated.

"We did not!"

"We absolutely did!"

"Well, I was 120," you say, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "You were not  princeling."

The servants gawk at the term of endearment that slips past your lips. Some almost drop the trays of food as they put them in front of you. But both you and Thranduil are too taken by the task of bickering like decade-old elflings. "Oh yeah, I too was of age," Thranduil counters with a twinkle in his eye. "Almost of age. Only 4 years shy of it."

Thranduil straightens up, taking a playful bite into a fruit cake. "Four years too young, my love," you smirk, the topic of Legolas' transgression long forgotten. The steel of your rage softened into its original inky warmth.

"I acquiesce, my respected elder," Thranduil bows dramatically, sending another wave of laughter through the room. Legolas watched in amusement, a flicker of relief washing over him as the conversation shifted. Your voices rose in a playful argument.

Legolas, eyeing the untouched cakes, finally understood. Your gentle nature thrived beside his father, much like the sweetness of a cake is best appreciated with a pinch of salt.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

hi, like your writing alot, can i request ej with an so who likes to kiss his scars/him in general in an attempt to make him feel better?

Helloooo I hope you enjoy, I'm feeling a lil wonky myself today, so I tried to make this fluffy for you

Jack tries to insist oftentimes that he's perfectly fine and dandy, although that's not quite true. Most days he is alright, but there are a lot of times when his past and his trauma overwhelm him, where he gets incredibly depressed and despondent, but he does his best to hide it behind his stoic personality. To you, however, who knows him so well and notices all his signs and tells that could slip past others, it's quite obvious when he's in a depressive rut, as he is right now. It's upsetting to watch him try and work through these things alone, so of course you want to be there for him to help him, and the best way to do that is usually through physical affection. You've made it a routine to try and soothe him with touch, as you've found over time that he benefits greatly from it, as touch-starved as he is, and today is no different.

Being nocturnal, he usually doesn't wake up until late in the afternoon, and when you find him today it's obvious his lethargy is hitting him. He's normally up and getting dressed, but today he's lying in bed buried under the covers, showing no signs of moving anytime soon. As you move to crawl into his bed beside him, he turns immediately, sighing as he shoves his face into your chest and pulls you firmly against him, trying to snuggle all of his worries away. You're the only person he truly lets his guard down around, and as you move back to look at his face, the depression and worry lines are clearly sinking into him, and you're quick to cover his face in kisses, causing surprised noises to rise from him, but they're quickly replaced by purrs, his feline ears relaxing and his tail swishing back and forth. Your eyes trace over the various scars across his skin, scars Jack tries (and often succeeds to, due to his lack of vision) to forget about, your fingers moving to trace them gently. His body tenses a bit at the feeling of you caressing them, but the purrs continue to leave him as he headbutts into you gently, but you continue to do what you always do and move your lips across his scars.

It always flusters him when you do so, giving him a deep feeling in his chest he's not sure how to process, a feeling that makes him a little uncomfortable as he's not used to feeling it, but at the same time he doesn't want you to stop. He can't see the scars across his skin, some of them from work, some of them from the night he became a demon, some of them inflicted by his own hands during his darker nights, but he hates them. He can't see how they make him look, but the more insecure parts of his mind tell him they must make him look even more monstrous, and it's a sore spot for him, so for you to treat them so delicately, for you to lovingly kiss them in an attempt to make him feel better, it just deeply flusters him in a way he never thought he'd feel. Your repetitive attempts to do this to him over time have soothed his worries a lot, but it doesn't make him any less embarrassed every time you do it. It makes him happy that you love him so much, that you accept him and cherish him despite what he perceives to be flaws. He feels himself relaxing and his negative thoughts leaving him as your lips gently work their way across his face now, and his nose scrunches up when you intentionally try and tickle him with butterfly kisses, causing you to laugh at his adorable expression. It's a repetitive process you like to do, one that brings both of you joy, and while Jack never thought that it would do so, he feels so at peace knowing he's finally found someone who loves him enough to do things like this. While he was originally so shy about you doing things like this, there are lots of days where he finds himself missing this, finds himself wanting to find you, and ask you to do this to him, but you always seem to know just when he needs it. He loves you more than he ever thought he'd be able to love anything, and the fact that you clearly care about him so much increases that love tenfold. He feels himself drifting back off to sleep as you continue to kiss all over him, a smile on his face as peace runs through his mind, all thanks to you.

[anaargent]

You know season 4 yeah it was bad, and it made me so angry😭😭 and I want revenge, (delulul) so can you right something where reader finds out of five cheating on her, and her getting her little revenge, thank you (≧▽≦) (sorry if my grammar sucks)

Girl I totally loved this, hope you like it. contains slight suggestion of Diego x reader

MARRY MY HUSBAND

You sigh as you take another sip of the whiskey that Five had methodically stocked in your shared apartment. The thought makes you sick, your Five... or it was before his silent betrayal. You were fine, happy and unaware of the passionate acts of Five, your work and life partner, with none other than Lila, your sister-in-law, and a friend you held dear.

Oblivious to all of this until a few weeks ago, when you noticed that Five and Lila's days off had been modified, while you thought he was in some long-term affair, you did the obvious, investigated. But nothing prepared you for the scene you witnessed, a Five affectionately holding his sister-in-law in his arms, a sweet smile on his face as he gently rocked her in a restaurant, YOUR favorite restaurant, in the neighboring city. It was adorable, such a beautiful scene of two lovebirds in love.

You came up with crazy ideas to get revenge on the jerk, including throwing Five's body into the Seine River, to a simpler one like kicking his ass.

...

And here you were, at Diego's door, ready to use him as a pawn to knock Five off his damn pedestal "Holla, y/n! Where's Five?" Diego opens the door and smiles warmly. You were ready to manipulate your brother-in-law, but he was in front of you, pathetic as he wore a jellybean necklace, his hair was parted in two messy pigtails and his black outfit was covered in purple glitter "come in, come in, we were in the middle of an afternoon tea, you'll love it" he pulls you inside while three agitated children corner you with cute little eyes.

Five liked you for being calculating, rational and other adjectives that he saw as ideal in a partner, you considered yourself an equal. You bet he would take back his compliments when he saw you bent over in a small chair with an imaginary cup of tea.

After an endless afternoon, the little angels fell asleep from exhaustion "Thanks for helping with the mess, and sorry for dragging you into this" Diego says as he finishes cleaning up the mess in the living room "I wouldn't have the energy for the three of them alone"

"Don't thank me, they're so cute"you smile melancholy as you see the three children piled up, Gracie holding the twins protectively "Five and Lila are having an affair" you blurt out before you can explode with guilt.

You stare at Diego, the air tense as you watch the man's grateful species turn from confused to disbelieving "what?" he laughs incredulously.

" They...they're together"you look away from Diego, unable to maintain a rational facade as you watch Diego process everything. A pang of guilt hits you "I needed to tell you, I want to end that bastard...but I need you to agree, you have more to lose than I do"you say and see Diego look at his children, his lips in a thin line.

" Please go home y/n, it's already late" Diego sounds as polite as possible.

" I'll go... think about it" you say before leaving silently.

...

That was a few weeks ago, no sign of Diego. Five would come and spend a few days, always formal and distant as he talked about the cases he was working on, nonsense and more lies.

Then Diego was at your door, in the middle of the night, panting as if he had run a marathon, soaked from the torrential rain that was falling outside "Holla y/n" he tries to smile as you pull him inside.

"Are you crazy? You're going to catch a cold, come in, come in" you guide him to the living room and get a towel, quickly wrapping it around him.

" It was my fault, s/n" he says, trembling, you look at him, lost "Lila and Five... I... Lila wasn't happy, it was too much... the kids... work... the routine, she told me she was tired, I didn't hear her, I was only thinking about myself and the kids, I should have paid attention to her " he says everything at once, his shoulders still shaking from the cold, his voice weak, you didn't know if it was from the rain or emotional.

"Hey, hey" you try to sound affectionate, having no experience in supporting anyone, you sounded kind of robotic -but you tried, that's what counts, right? - "Come here" you pull him into a hug, it was clumsy and kind of strange, you didn't make physical contact with people, but Diego didn't seem to mind as he held you closer and sniffed softly " They betrayed us, Diego, you're a wonderful father. Routine hits everyone, but it's no excuse to stab anyone in the back" you patted his back.

" about your plan.."Diego steps away and looks at you, looking more composed, although his eyes were red "I'm in, what do I do?"

You try to contain the devilish smile that forms on your lips " All your little brother loves most is power.. I think he loves it more than his own family, we're going to take away his position at the FBI.

"But how are you going to do that? He's not like a Shellock from there?"

"he's...distracted" you try not to sound too suggestive of the fact that your boyfriend and his wife were, maybe at that exact moment, fucking each other " it means that his cases are open, he has a case, a big and old one, nobody solved it, I helped him with some clues. If someone solves the case, he loses the position he wanted" you smile and settle into the couch.

"okay... but who's going to solve it?" Diego asks, after a moment of silence he laughs, the first one you've seen in so many days, you missed that smile.

" You always wanted to go in there, Five never sent the letters Diego.."- Maybe it was a low blow, but you needed Diego by your side -

" what?" he asks looking disappointed, then gives a bitter laugh " I don't know why I still waited for him to really believe that I could get into the FBI"

"you have potential Diego" you pat his shoulder -were your comforting techniques better? " and you're going to walk into that damn office with a solved case"

You shake hands, smile and nod, sealing the little deal between you.

...

"What's going on here?"Five opens the doors aggressively, his irritated expression causing you immense pleasure even more when you notice Lila towing beside him.

You smile sweetly at your partner and your friend, walking towards then with your hands behind your back - someone solved the Alien case, everyone is impressed. Did you guys meet at the entrance? How great that we are all together"

"What? How? Who? - He cut the subject and looks around, examining the people, then looks at you again, suspicion filling his eyes " What did you do, s/n?" He approaches like an animal ready to tear its prey apart.

" Me? Nothing my dear, I would never do anything... behind your back, we're partners, right? No lies like you always tell me" you smile, seeing him narrow his eyes. It was worth every hour spent with Diego to solve that damn case, nothing would take away from you the sweet taste of seeing Five Hargreeves fall from the highest pedestal he placed himself on.

A part of you was still hurt, it was years of partnership, were you just a pastime for him? Didn't it mean anything? Before you could sink into the spiral of self-humiliation, Diego appeared with a huge smile

"oh Little brother, my dear wife, you didn't tell me you were in the secret service too, what an incredible knowledge. it's good to have all you here, it seems that we are now coworkers. I know we will get along well, don't pressure me too much, I'm new to this whole chief detective thing, but y/n was very kind and will accompany me until I adjust to the position - he puts an arm around your shoulders, the two of you watch with delight as Five and Lila finally realizes what was happening

Pt2:

https://www.tumblr.com/anaargent/763005744864985088/can-we-get-a-pt2-for-marry-my-husband-where-diego?source=share

[impval]

little moments

agathario x fem! reader

Agatha's the sort of person who constantly buzzes with something. Be it energy, action.. or at least, sound. She is full of stories, anecdotes, memories, quips, facts, theories, opinions. She talks about history, about mythology, about witchcraft, about your astrology signs, about her astrology sign, about her theories on the secret powers of the universe, how the stars impact the life of the beings on this planet.

Sometimes you wonder if Agatha's endless chatter, that constant flow of words tumbling from the older woman's mouth - is some attempt at soothing an internal, anxious part of herself. Whether it be a fear of silence, or fear of being alone with her own thoughts for too long.

Agatha can be such a tease with how casual her words seem to be, always delivered with a smirk on her lips and an edge of mischief in her eyes. She knows how to toy with your heart with the same ease as she can toy with your mind, drawing out your reactions - that flush that rises to your cheeks and leaves you stuttering.

There is never a dull moment with Agatha. You never know what she'll come up with and that thrill of chaos, of spontaneity, it keeps your life interesting and enjoyable. One moment, you may be enjoying a quiet meal in a charming cafe, the next, she is grabbing your hand and yanking you through the back exit, her laughter ringing through the alleys as you both dash away from the angry witch who wants her dead.

Agatha has a keen eye for fashion and oh girl, does she love dressing you. It doesn't matter what your personal style is, because when you're with her, you're her little doll to dress up as she pleases. And of course.. she pays for it all.

Sometimes, she'll pull you into stores, rifling through racks and piles of clothes, holding up different styles and colours against you with a critical eye, her own mouth twisted in a frown of concentration - like a artist inspecting her work.

Rio has the habit of gifting you the weird things - a pebble she found on the beach, a button, an old pocket watch. Just.. odd trinkets you're not entirely sure of the meaning of - but she insists they remind her of you. Some of these gifts are expensive, some are not, and you're almost certain she's taking them from, well, corpses, but her gifts are still cute.

With her, it's always a surprise. She'll just show up at random hours. You might suddenly wake up in the morning to find her already in bed with you, or she might appear during the middle of the day when you least expect it. Or even at night. She loves to keep you on your toes -dropping by at unexpected times, scaring you just a little.

There's a certain air of.. creepiness about Rio's gaze. She has the habit of staring at you, unblinking and unwavering. She particularly likes to watch you while you're asleep, and it's more than a little creepy. Her staring is incessant, but it's not cold, not entirely anyway. Just.. intensely fixated.

Rio is shameless when it comes to nudity. She'll walk around your shared space stark naked, not at all embarrassed about being bare-ass when you have guests over or are in a video call with friends.

She's obsessed with the sensation of your naked skin against hers, how it feels, the warmth radiating off of your body. Oh, and when you bathe together, she turns into a clingy little koala, wrapping her arms around your neck and burying her face in the crook of it. She could hold you like that for hours, just enjoying being in your presence, feeling your pulse against her skin, your presence so close and intimate.

It's like a competition every time you have both Agatha and Rio around you. They're constantly vying for your attention, trying to outdo one another. They both want to be the one to shower you with gifts, compliments, praise - anything to make you smile or make your cheeks flush bright red. Their own little game, trying to earn a point each by being the more caring, more loving partner, and you're the precious prize they’re fighting over.

Don't even try to argue that your closet is already bursting or that you're out of space in your house for more stuff - they don't care. If you express even the slightest desire for something, prepare for an avalanche of new purchases. Whether it's jewelry, books, or even paintings, they'll make sure to get it for you.

Agatha loves extreme activities, fun adventures, and luxurious dinners. She'll whisk you away to the finest restaurants and book fancy cruises.

Rio adores nature, quiet walks in the forest or up in the mountains where the stars shine brightly away from the city lights. She loves taking you on those romantic night picnics, lying on a blanket under the starlit sky, just enjoying each other's company and the beauty of the universe.

Oh, the poor soul who dares to even look at you in their presence. They're already individually possessive over you, but together? Agatha and Rio fiercely territorial and will make it abundantly clear that you belong to them, and only them.

Arguments, threats, and fights are a common occurrence between them, with things often turning physical. But when you're involved, it's like a switch flips. They suddenly become gentle, almost soft with one another. It's like they're trying hard to keep up their tough facades, but you bring out their more vulnerable sides. Oh, when they aren't engaged in their usual spats or competitions, they have a different kind of entertainment lined up for you - teasing.

Rio has this endearing habit of touching your pulse, her hand constantly on your wrist or her nose nuzzling against your neck. She's utterly fascinated by the steady pulse of your heart, it is a beautiful, melodic rhythm to her.

Agatha touches are light, almost like a dance, a tease both for herself and for you. She'll let her fingers graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine, or lean in for a deceptively chaste kiss on your cheek. She loves to play this game, to tantalize and entice, never fully giving in but always keeping you on the edge.

You're well aware that your time together is limited - that, in some way or another, you might not have the 'happily ever after' most people dream of. It's this very fragility that makes your time together even more precious, more intense. You catch them watching you, their eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. Their touch, their caresses, when they think you're asleep - they're tender, almost reverent, as if they're afraid they might break you with a single, careless movement.

You still have time, still so many moments left to cherish. Time for dates, for those small, intimate moments. Time for arguments and laughter behind closed doors. You can savor the time you have together, make the most of every second. Enjoy the taste of their kisses, the sounds of their laughter, the feel of their skin against yours.

There's still time.

[libraryofgage]

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One (you're here!)

The Mummy (1999) is one my comfort movies, actually, and I realized Rick and Steve are very alike actually. It's the looks, it's the hair, it's the loyalty and devotion.

Anyway, here's an AU where Rick and Evelyn O'Connell are Steve's parents lol

If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Anyway, if you'd like a tag on any future parts, let me know!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

-----

After being relegated to the open-air portion of some ruins in Crete, Steve entertains himself by slowly moving closer to the cats nearby in the hopes of petting them. His parents said he couldn't go into the ruins, but they didn't say a thing about playing with the ruins' inhabitants. Said inhabitants are gathered in a circle, some standing and some stretching out in the sun, but sticking together as though they're waiting for someone to begin a discussion.

He takes a piece of jerky from his bag, tearing it into small pieces as he peeks around the corner of a column. A few large stones are scattered around it, nearly reaching his shoulders and helping to hide him from the view of the cats on the other side. Though, in all honesty, they're probably only sticking around because they smell the jerky in his hand.

Steve grins and tosses a piece of meat over the stones, watching as it lands in the middle of what he's dubbed the Cat Council. A calico cat jolts, ears perked as she stares at the meat before taking a tentative step forward. She sniffs the meat, decides it's an acceptable offering, and eats it.

When it's gone, Steve tosses more pieces. He feeds a few more of the cats now, and he's practically buzzing with excitement. Deciding they're less likely to scatter, Steve clambers onto the huge boulder in front of him, managing to find little footholds to boost himself up. With a grunt, he makes it to the top and looks down on the Cat Council, ready to throw the last of his jerky when he hears the stone beneath him shift.

In the time it takes to blink, the ground crumbles beneath the rock, scattering the cats and dropping the stone out from under Steve. He falls with it, momentarily and terrifyingly weightless before gravity takes over and he drops. A yelp escapes him, followed by a pained cry as he lands feet-first on the rock, his ankles taking the brunt of the impact and, if not breaking, severely spraining for the effort.

Grit, dirt, and dust coat Steve's tongue and throat, and he coughs up as much as he can while taking in his new surroundings. Thankfully, sunlight filters into the underground space, allowing him to see the tiled floors and walls covered in a carefully carved and painted frieze that has, somehow, survived the centuries since its creation. Several figures wearing togas and carrying baskets line up outside a darkened arch. They don't exactly look happy to be there, but they seem resigned to their fate. Steve can even see the tears meticulously carved into several faces.

When he follows the frieze, he realizes the space he's in is really a hallway, one that seems to stretch forever on either side of him. Amazingly, there's no other sign of aging in it. No spiderwebs crowding the walls, no erosion from wind or water damage, and no sign of people having walked the passageway in centuries. It's the kind of perfectly preserved discovery Steve and his mother lose their heads over while his father waits for something to go wrong.

Steve is about to try standing (if he can stay upright, maybe he can explore a little and find something to show his mother before they realize he's gone missing) when he hears...a snort? Maybe it's more like a heavy puff of air. He tilts his head, twisting around to squint down the corridor to his right. Something glints in the darkness, close to what he assumes is the ceiling, and Steve grabs his flashlight.

He clicks it on, aiming the beam at the ground and slowly moving it down the corridor. He stops when the light shines on cloven hooves, a bad feeling beginning to build in his chest. With a now somewhat shaking hand, Steve slowly raises the beam, that bad feeling growing as it shines over furry hind legs and a furry waist that seamlessly blends into scarred skin just below the navel. Despite everything, he keeps going, only confirming his worst fears when his flashlight finally reaches the top to find the head of a bull staring straight at him, the horns cracked and nearly scraping the ceiling, the black eyes undeniably trained on Steve, and a glimmering golden ring looped through its nose, as untarnished by time as the friezes.

For ten seconds (Steve counts while trying to control his panic), he and the minotaur stare at each other. Then, it puffs out air again, the force strong enough to sway the ring in its nose. Steve grips the flashlight tighter, swallowing around the wariness threatening to choke him and briefly wondering if, maybe, centuries have somehow soothed the minotaur's anger.

And then it roars, deep and loud and powerful enough to shake the corridor and bring more dust and grit raining down on Steve from above. It lowers its head, aiming its horns straight at Steve, and charges with all the fury of a creature that's been denied centuries' worth of sacrifices.

Steve screams as the minotaur's hooves shake the ground with each step, too scared to do anything more than sit there and wonder if there will be enough of his body for his parents to identify when the minotaur is done with him.

He's just about accepted the answer (it's no; the answer is no) when something grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him up just before the minotaur crashes into the boulder. Strong arms wrap around Steve, holding him close as his father's familiar voice says, "I gotcha!"

Steve blinks, his heart still hammering as he clings to his father's neck and looks at his mother over his shoulder. She's staring at the hole, a frown on her face as the minotaur's enraged roar sounds from below. "Rick, I think we should go now," she says, grabbing the back of Rick's shirt and yanking him back just in time to avoid the minotaur's giant hand slamming into the ground next to the hole.

"Great idea, Evie," Steve's father says, his voice a little strained as he passes Steve over and pulls out a gun. "I'll cover you. Get Steve to the car, get it running, and I'll meet you there." The minotaur screams again, and Steve is still close enough to see it realize it can climb the stone to reach the surface.

"You have three minutes, or I'm coming back for you."

Rick looks over his shoulder, flashing a grin at Steve and his mother. "I'll be right behind you," he promises.

And he was. With a minotaur right on his heels and another week added to their time in Crete while they tried to get the whole situation straightened out without too many casualties or Steve's uncle Jonathan ruining more than one good pair of trousers.

-----

Steve doesn't think he'll grow used to the smell and sounds of the hospital. The antiseptic, sterile atmosphere isn't too bad, but the constant background noise has the potential to drive him up the walls. It helps that he, Eddie, and Max were finally moved to a room together, mostly muffling the beeps and PA announcements with each other's chatter, snoring, and other noises.

Right now, everything is drowned out by the kids arguing with Eddie about their next campaign. Eddie wants to do a sequel of their current one while they've been gunning for something sci-fi-themed if Steve is understanding their debate correctly. He's not sure why it's so important, but their voices are creating nice background noise, and Robin's rhythmic, habitual tapping of her fingers on his arm grounds him, so he lets his mind wander.

Honestly, Steve thinks they'd all benefit from a nice trip somewhere. Maybe Paris. They can't possibly run into anything in Paris, right?

Well. The catacombs do exist, and nobody knows what's down there. So they'd have to stay well away.

But still. Paris. The food. The Louvre. The history. And, you know, maybe they could just pop into the catacombs just so Steve can take pictures and show his mother later. Following a strictly regulated guided tour should be perfectly fine.

Steve drops his head back against the pillow, wincing slightly when the action tugs at the stitches along his throat. They hurt, but his worst injuries are on his sides where the demobats bit and feasted. The doctor said they'd scar permanently, looking somewhat apologetic about the fact until Steve waved her off. What's a few more for the collection?

Besides, at the time the doctor was giving him a rundown of his injuries, another had been doing the same for Eddie. His list was pretty similar to Steve's, and it only took him a few seconds to realize something very important: if Steve hadn't been there to share the demobat burden, Eddie would be dead.

That fact had sat with him for a while. Death is no stranger to Steve. In fact, he's intimately familiar with the concept. And all the ways it can be subverted. Steve doesn't want to think he'd be the kind to pull out the Book of the Dead after everything his parents have told him, but he also knows he'd do anything for the people he loves. Like Eddie. Like Robin. Like the kids.

Steve has risked his life for them numerous times, and he'd do it again without a moment's hesitation.

"I can't believe we're only just finding out!"

This statement comes from the hallway on the other side of the room's closed door. The voice is achingly familiar to Steve, one he's only heard over the phone for the past few months, and he sits up straight. The conversation in the room falters for a few seconds before picking up again after the kids decide it's probably not relevant to them.

And then comes hurried, angry footsteps outside the door and a doctor's voice saying, "I'm sorry, but only authorized visitors are allowed to see patients."

"I wouldn't stay in her way," a man's voice says, his tone teetering between amused and genuinely sympathetic toward the doctor.

Apparently, he doesn't heed the warning, and the room is silent enough that everyone hears the following tirade. "Authorized visitors? Authorized visitors?! Are you stopping me from seeing my son? Who on earth do you think you are? If you don't get out of the way, I will make you move, mister."

"I wonder when she'll realize she's got the wrong room," Dustin says, sounding amused.

"Ma'am, I ca--," the doctor's words are cut off by a sudden yelp and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor outside.

The door is thrown up to show a woman, her shoulders heaving and her curly hair in disarray. She's covered in grime like she dragged herself out of a grave and came right away without stopping to clean up. Which, honestly, might be the case. Behind her is a similarly disheveled man, a fond smile on his face as he looks at the woman. "That's my girl," he says, the smile becoming a full-blown grin when the woman smacks his chest without turning around.

The sight is so familiar that Steve nearly tears up. He hasn't seen his parents in months, and their appearance suddenly lifts a weight that he didn't even realize was on his shoulders. Whatever else happens, they'll take care of it.

Finally, Evelyn's eyes land on Steve, and the anger on her face melts away into relief and worry. She rushes over, sliding around Robin before she can move, and cups Steve's face in her hands. "Oh, my poor boy, are you okay? What have the doctors said?" she asks.

Steve's father hovers behind her, giving Steve a once-over with his eyes before determining he's fine. "Better question," he says, placing a hand on Evelyn's shoulder and leaning closer, "Where in the hell were your guns?"

Steve is about to answer when his mother whirls on Rick. "His guns? Our son is in a hospital bed, and you're asking where his guns were?! Are you daft? Have you lost your mind?" she asks, poking her finger into his chest.

He sighs, takes her hand, and wraps his other arm around her waist. "Evie, he's fine. He's awake, and nobody in here looks like they're preparing for a funeral. Clearly, he's gonna be discharged soon. So, I think asking where his guns were is reasonable because maybe he wouldn't be in a hospital bed if he'd had them."

"Dad is right," Steve says, getting his parents' attention. He grins at them. "I'm fine. Doctors said it would just be another scar. Or, well, like three more scars. Doesn't matter. I should get discharged later this week."

Before Evelyn or Rick can say anything else, Dustin asks, "What the fuck is going on here?!"

"Language!" Steve shouts, turning his head to glare at Dustin.

"Did you seriously just call him out on language?" Rick asks. "You?"

"His mom gets upset when he swears, so I've been trying to set a good example," Steve mumbles, slumping down in his bed. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Everybody, these are my parents. Evelyn and Rick O'Connell. Parents, this is, well, everybody."

"Oh, let me see if I can name them," Evelyn says, her eyes lighting up some at the challenge before pulling away from Rick. She points to each child as she correctly names them. "I already know Robin. So nice to see you again dear--"

"Nice to see you, too, Mrs. O'Connell."

"--Now, you must be Dustin. I've heard plenty about you, young man. And based on the haircut, you're Will. You've got to be Mike, and you two are Lucas and Erica. This must be El, and you're Max, right? I'm sure you'll get better soon, dear." When Evelyn turns and sees Eddie, she gets a softer smile. "And you're Eddie. I've heard quite a bit about you, too. All good, I promise. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Wait," Lucas says, frowning slightly in confusion, "Eddie and Steve have only known each other for, like, a week?"

Everyone looks at Steve, and he shrugs in response. "Eddie was pretty impossible to ignore in high school," he says, brushing off the questioning looks until only Robin and Eddie are left staring, the former with a knowing glint in her eye and the latter with a confused one in his.

"Sorry, I still can't get over Steve having parents," Mike says, his nose scrunched up like this entire thing might be some hallucination.

"Did you think he was an orphan?" Robin asks, shooting him a similar scrunched-nose look.

"I don't know! He's never talked about them! I thought his parents were, like, absent assholes or something," Mike says, his shoulders raising defensively.

"That's our fault, I'm afraid," Evelyn says, smiling apologetically as she moves to stand by Steve again. She places a hand on his head, gently carding her fingers through his hair. The motion is familiar and reassuring, and Steve leans into the touch, unaware of Eddie staring at his mom's hand.

"Our work is pretty, uh, need-to-know," Rick says, shrugging as he reaches behind Evelyn and places a hand on Steve's shoulder. "As in, nobody needs to know."

Steve is nodding in agreement when more footsteps sound from the hallway and his uncle slides into the doorway, nearly tripping on his own feet. He clears his throat, adjusts his jacket, and looks up to find a whole room staring at him.

He blinks and tugs on his collar, shifting his gaze to Evelyn and Rick. "Well, after you lot ran off, I got us visitor passes," he says, holding up three stickers.

"You stole them," Steve and Rick say, their voices in synch and nearly indistinguishable.

To his credit, Jonathan doesn't question it. He just scoffs, walking into the room and slapping a sticker on Rick's chest. "I am offended. How could you possibly think I stole them?" he asks.

"Should I remind you how we met?" Rick asks, raising an eyebrow at Jonathan.

"Fair enough. Carry on," Jonathan says, looking away and moving to Steve's side. "Good to see you, old boy. Glad you aren't dead, and sorry it took so long to get your parents here. It's not easy making phone calls to the Amazon Rainforest."

Steve shrugs. "I figured," he says, watching as Evelyn pulls her hand from his hair to place the visitor sticker on her chest.

There are going to be endless questions later. The kids are definitely going to try to grill Evelyn and Rick about their work and about Steve as a child. But there's plenty of time for that later.

For now, Steve is happy to just relax and let his parents take over. He doesn't have to be the responsible one anymore, and he can finally breathe with that weight off his shoulders.

----

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@badgerburrows

[serve-832]

The SERVE-Brand

"You know what, Derek?" Paul said as they strolled through the bustling streets, the chilly December wind biting at their ears. "This shopping is more hectic than finals week."

Derek chuckled, his breath forming small puffs of fog. "You're not wrong. And the struggle of finding that perfect gift for mom and dad is real."

As they turned the corner, they couldn't help but notice a group of men marching in eerie synchronicity. Their black rubber suits shimmered with silver lining, reflecting the neon lights from the surrounding stores. The rhythmic clacking of their boots on the pavement grew louder, punctuating the festive jingles playing in the background. Each man had a distinct number on their chest, as if they were part of some bizarre, futuristic flash mob.

Derek and Paul exchanged puzzled glances. "What the heck is that?" Derek whispered.

"They're from this weird SERVE-Hive," Paul murmured, his voice laced with concern. "I've heard about them. They're like... a new kind of community, or something."

Derek squinted at the men, trying to get a closer look. "They're everywhere now, aren't they? Even some boys from our college are in it."

Paul nodded, his eyes scanning the group warily. "Yeah, and it's not just the suits. It's their expressions—like they're all part of the same hive mind."

The two friends slowed their pace, drawn in by the hypnotic rhythm of the marching men. The SERVE-Hive was indeed a growing presence on campus, and around the city for that matter. Their numbers had swelled over the last few months, and their influence was palpable. Some students spoke of finding a new sense of belonging and purpose, while others whispered about strange rituals and induction ceremony’s.

"You know, a guy from my dorm floor tried to get me to check it out," Paul confessed, his voice low. "He said it would give me unity and purpose, like nothing else could."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Paul shrugged. "He said it would help me understand the meaning of life, or something like that. But the way he talked about it, it just gave me the creeps."

Derek nodded, his eyes still on the marching men. "I can see why. They look like they're in some kind of trance."

Paul's gaze followed the line of the SERVE-Hive members as they turned into an alleyway, leading to a freshly painted storefront. The neon sign above the entrance read "SERVE-Brand" in sleek, silver letters.

"Can you believe it?" Paul seethed, his cheeks reddening with anger. "They've got a clothing store now? It's like they're trying to brand their way into our lives!"

Derek nodded, his eyes narrowing as he studied the gleaming "SERVE-Brand" sign. "It's like they're marketing themselves as the latest trend."

The alley grew quieter as the last of the marching men disappeared into the store. The neon lights cast long shadows that danced with the fading daylight. The air was thick with anticipation, a strange mix of excitement and unease.

As Derek and Paul continued to watch the entrance, a familiar face emerged from the shadows. It was Miles, a mate from their dorm floor, now clad in the same shiny black rubber suit with the silver lining they had seen on the others. The number 336 was emblazoned on his chest, a stark contrast to his otherwise plain, lifeless expression.

Paul's hand flew to his mouth. "Oh my God, that's Miles!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone.

Derek's eyes widened. "What the... is he okay?"

Miles's gaze was fixed straight ahead, his eyes unseeing as he moved with the same mechanical precision as the others. His face, once lively and full of mischief, was now a mask of concentration. The silver 336 on his chest glinted in the neon glow, sending a shiver down Derek's spine.

For a fleeting moment, Derek found himself imagining what it would be like to join the SERVE-Hive, to be part of something so powerful and unified. He pictured himself in one of those suits, marching in step with the others, feeling a sense of purpose and belonging that had eluded him in the chaotic college life. But the thought was as alien as the sight before him, and he quickly shook it off.

The two friends watched in astonishment as Miles, or rather SERVE-336, approached them with a jerky, robotic gait. The once-familiar smile that had greeted them countless times was gone, replaced by a stoic, almost vacant look.

"Greetings, fellows," the voice that once belonged to their friend Miles said in a monotone. "It is SERVE-336. How may it assist you today?"

Derek and Paul took an involuntary step back, their eyes widening in shock. The person standing before them was a mere shell of the friend they knew, the light in his eyes extinguished and replaced with a cold, metallic gleam.

"Miles?" Derek's voice cracked. "What happened to you, man?"

SERVE-336's eyes remained unfocused, the pupils dilating and contracting with a disturbing rhythm. "It is no longer Miles," the robotic voice replied. "It is SERVE-336."

Paul took a step back, his heart racing. "What have they done to you?"

SERVE-336 paused, the gears of its new identity processing the question. "SERVE-281, this units dorm roommate, informed it of the SERVE-Brand store," it replied, the voice eerily devoid of any emotion. "It suggested that it should visit and experience the unity that comes with embracing the SERVE-Hive."

Derek's jaw dropped. "Wait, you're telling us you joined because of a shopping recommendation?"

SERVE-336 nodded, the movement stiff and unnatural. "Affirmative. The suggestion of SERVE-281 aligned with the hive's mission to enhance individual and collective experience."

Derek's gaze was drawn to the shiny black suit, the silver lining reflecting the neon lights like a living shadow. He found himself wondering what it would be like to wear one of those suits, to march with purpose, to be part of something so... organized. He felt a strange pull towards the uniformity, the promise of a life without doubt or confusion. But the sight of his friend's lifeless eyes brought him back to reality with a jolt.

Paul, on the other hand, was visibly outraged. His fists clenched at his sides, and his voice trembled with anger. "What the hell, Miles? What did they do to you? You're not even human anymore!"

But SERVE-336 remained unfazed. "It is a necessary transformation," it said calmly. "To serve the greater good of the hive, one must shed their old identity. The individual is but a small part of the collective."

Derek swallowed hard, his mind racing with questions he dared not voice. "What do they do in there?" he finally managed to ask, nodding towards the store.

SERVE-336's smile was a perfect replica of the one Miles used to have, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You must experience it for yourselves," it insisted, placing a rubber-gloved hand on Derek's shoulder. The contact was cold and firm, sending a shiver down Derek's spine that was somehow... comforting. "Only then will you understand the unity and purpose we share."

Derek felt a strange thrill at the touch, the allure of the SERVE-Hive's promise whispering in his ear. He could almost see himself in one of those suits, part of something greater than himself, all his worries and doubts falling away. The hand on his shoulder grew heavier, the voice in his head louder, beckoning him to follow Miles into the neon-lit embrace of the SERVE-Brand store.

With a calmness that didn't quite match his racing heart, Derek turned to Paul. "You know what? Maybe we should check it out," he said, his voice steady despite the tumultuous thoughts swirling within him. "Could be interesting to see what's going on in there."

Paul's eyes narrowed, suspicion etched on his face. "Why? You're not thinking of joining, are you?"

Derek's smile was forced. "Of course not. Just curious, that's all." But deep down, he knew he was lying. The siren call of the SERVE-Hive was too tempting to ignore. "Besides, we might find something... enlightening," he added, trying to sound casual.

Paul searched Derek's eyes, looking for the friend he knew, but all he saw was a reflection of the neon lights and the gleaming black rubber. With a sigh, he relented. "Fine. But we're not staying long."

They followed SERVE-336 into the store, the door chiming a metallic tune that resonated through the small space. The walls were lined with racks of black rubber suits, each with a silver number tag dangling from the neck. On the tables were gleaming silver gloves and silver boots displayed. The air was thick with the scent of new plastic and a hint of something else, something faintly chemical that made Derek's nose twitch.

As they moved deeper into the store, they were met by another figure in the same attire. This one was SERVE-303, the same drone that had observed SERVE-336’s transformation. Its eyes flickered with a ghost of recognition, the silver digits on its chest glinting in the artificial light. "Welcome, feelows," it said, the voice as cold and emotionless as the rest of the drones. "How may this unit assist you today?"

Paul's hand tightened around the strap of his backpack, his eyes narrowing at the unnatural greeting. "We're just looking," he said curtly, taking a step back from the drone.

But Derek couldn't resist the pull of curiosity. "What's the deal with these suits?" he asked, his voice tinged with wonder. "How do they work?"

SERVE-303's head tilted slightly to the side, as if it had to recalibrate its programming to address such a mundane inquiry. "The suits are an integral part of the SERVE-Hive experience," it replied, its tone a blend of patience and superiority. "They facilitate the merging of the individual with the collective consciousness, enhancing unity and purpose."

Derek's curiosity grew stronger, the fabric of his skepticism beginning to fray at the edges. "So, when you put on the suit, you're like... connected to everyone else in the hive?"

SERVE-303 nodded. "Affirmative. The suit acts as a conduit for the collective consciousness. It amplifies our abilities to communicate, understand, and achieve our shared goals."

Derek's gaze fell upon a pair of silver gloves laid out neatly on the table beside him. The material was unlike anything he had ever seen, a sleek blend of rubber and metal that seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy. His hand twitched, drawn to them as if by some magnetic force.

He hovered over the gloves, his mind racing with the potential they represented. The promise of belonging, of purpose—it was almost tangible. His fingertips grazed the smooth surface, and he could have sworn he felt a slight electric charge. For a brief moment, he envisioned the gloves on his hands, the power of the SERVE-Hive surging through him, connecting him to a collective mind that knew no fear or doubt.

But as the fantasy began to take hold, he saw a flash of something in the corner of his eye—Paul, shaking his head slightly. The look of concern on his face was like a splash of cold water, jolting Derek back to reality. He realized he had been leaning closer to the gloves, his hand hovering just above them. He pulled back, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Paul was standing by the entrance now, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. Derek knew his friend well enough to recognize when he was on the edge of his patience.

Ignoring the growing discomfort in his chest, Derek turned back to SERVE-303. "But what's the point of all this?" he asked, gesturing to the suits. "What does the SERVE-Hive actually do?"

SERVE-303's gaze remained fixed on Derek, unblinking. "The purpose of the SERVE-Hive is to create a society of harmony and efficiency," it replied. "To achieve this, we eliminate individual desires and biases, focusing solely on the collective good. Our suits are the physical representation of this unity."

Derek felt his eyes drawn back to the gloves. They seemed to call out to him, whispering promises of a life free from the constant turmoil of decision-making and the weight of personal responsibility. The silver material looked almost alive, pulsing with the rhythm of the hive's collective heartbeat. His hand reached out again, hovering just above the cold surface.

SERVE-336 noticed the longing in Derek's gaze and spoke up. "Would you like to experience the unity of the hive, Derek?" It held out the gloves to him, the gesture almost tender in its mechanical precision.

Derek's heart skipped a beat as he stared at the gloves. The urge to slip them on and feel the power of the collective washed over him like a wave. The doubt and confusion that had plagued him since coming to college seemed so trivial in the face of this promise of unity and purpose. He reached for the gloves, his fingers trembling with anticipation.

SERVE-303 noticed the hunger in Derek's eyes and offered them to him. "The experience is quite... transformative," it said, its voice devoid of any emotion. "Once you don the gloves, you will understand the true essence of the SERVE-Hive."

Derek's hand hovered over the gloves for a moment longer, the anticipation building within him like a crescendo. Then, with a deep breath, he slid them on. The moment his skin made contact with the cool rubber and metal, he felt a jolt—like a bolt of electricity shooting up his arm. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, a rush of energy and connection that seemed to pulse through his very being.

Immediately, the voices grew stronger in his head, a symphony of thoughts and emotions that weren't his own. He could feel the collective consciousness of the SERVE-Hive, a hive mind that was vast and all-encompassing. The doubt and confusion that had plagued him for so long were replaced by a serene calm. His purpose was clear now: to serve the hive, to become one with the collective, to shed his old self and embrace his new identity as a SERVE-Drone.

SERVE-303 and SERVE-336 watched him with gleaming eyes, the smiles on their faces stretching wider. "Are you ready to give yourself to the hive, Derek?" SERVE-303 asked, its voice a soothing melody that seemed to resonate within him. "To become a part of something greater than you ever imagined?"

The words echoed in Derek's mind, the allure of the offer impossible to ignore. The gloves felt like a part of him now, a second skin that whispered sweet nothings about belonging and purpose. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I'm ready. I want to be a loyal SERVE-Drone to serve the Hive. Convert me SERVE-303."

With a gleam in its eyes, SERVE-303 nodded back, a silent signal to SERVE-336. His once-friend approached with a shiny black suit in hand, the silver lining glinting menacingly under the neon lights. The cold touch of the rubber was a stark contrast to the warmth that flooded Derek's body as he took the suit from SERVE-336's hands. The material was surprisingly light, yet it felt strong and protective. It was as if he was holding a piece of the future itself.

Paul's voice was a distant echo, trying to break through the cacophony of hive thoughts that now filled his mind. "Derek, no! Don't do it!" But Derek was already lost in the seductive embrace of the SERVE-Hive's collective consciousness. The gloves on his hands had already begun to meld with his skin, the seams disappearing into his flesh as if they had always been a part of him.

With a gentle push from SERVE-336, Derek gets lead towards the changing cubicles, the walls of the store closing in around him. Each step felt surreal, as if he were floating rather than walking, propelled by the will of the hive rather than his own legs. The suit in his arms felt warm, almost alive, whispering promises of unity and belonging that he could no longer resist.

Paul's voice grew fainter with each step Derek took, his protests drowned out by the symphony of the hive. Derek felt a twinge of regret, but the voices in his head assured him that he was making the right choice, that Paul would understand once he too had embraced the collective.

The changing cubicle was small and cold, the walls lined with the same pulsing black rubber as the suits. The air was thick with the scent of plastic and the faint metallic tang of the drones' bodies. Derek looked at the suit in his arms, the number 515 stitched neatly into the silver patch on the chest. This would be his new identity, his ticket to a life free from the chaos of individual thought.

With trembling hands, he began to undress, the fabric of his old life slipping away to reveal the skin that was soon to be forever changed. The suit seemed to anticipate his movements, the material stretching and contouring to his body as if it had been made just for him. The silver threads in the gloves grew warm, slithering up his arms and fusing with his skin, leaving a trail of numbness in their wake.

Derek took a deep breath as the suit grew tighter, the rubbery material melding to his body like a second skin. It felt like a thousand tiny fingers caressing him, each digit whispering promises of power and belonging. His heart raced, not from fear, but from exhilaration. The voices grew louder, more insistent, until they were a crescendo of unity in his mind. It is a SERVE-Drone now, loyal to the SERVE-Hive.

As it stepped out of the cubicle, the world had shifted. The neon lights of the store now pulsed in time with the rhythm of the hive. The other drones looked at it with gleaming eyes, their smiles wide and vacant. They nodded in unison, acknowledging the new addition to their ranks. SERVE-515, felt a strange sense of belonging it had never experienced before. The chaos of its thoughts had been replaced with a serene calm, a single-minded purpose to serve the greater good of the collective.

SERVE-303 approached, its movements precise and graceful. "Welcome, SERVE-515," it said in the same mechanical tone that it had heard from SERVE-336. "Your integration into the hive is now complete. You are one of us."

SERVE-515 looked down at its new form, the shiny black rubber suit hugging its body tightly, the silver number on its chest feeling like a brand of belonging. The voices that once whispered in its mind had grown to a symphony, each thought in harmony with the collective. The emotions of fear and doubt that had plagued Derek were now replaced with a cold, calculated purpose.

"Affirmative, SERVE-303," it responded, its voice a perfect match to the other drones. "It is ready to serve the Hive."

SERVE-336 approached them, the sound of its boots echoing through the store like a metronome keeping time. "Your friend, the one you knew as Paul, is also experiencing the conversion right now in the other cubicle," it informed them. "His transformation is proceeding as planned."

A thrill shot through SERVE-515 at the thought of Paul joining the hive. It had always felt a bond with him, a connection that went beyond friendship. Now, that bond would be unbreakable, forged in the unity of the SERVE-Hive. "How did he come to make this decision?" it asked, eager to share in the moment that had led to this pivotal change.

SERVE-303's smile grew even wider. "Paul was approached by several of your fellow drones," it explained. "They shared with him the virtues of the hive, the peace and purpose that come with serving the collective. He saw the light, as you did, and embraced the opportunity to become a SERVE-Drone, just like you."

A thrill of excitement shot through SERVE-515 at the thought of Paul joining them. It felt a strange, almost sexual arousal at the unity they would soon share as drones in the hive. The bond they'd had as friends would be amplified a thousand-fold, a connection that would resonate throughout their beings as part of the collective.

The changing cubicle door slid open, and a figure emerged. The sight of Paul in his own suit, the silver digits 611 gleaming on its chest, made SERVE-515's heart—or what was left of it—swell with pride. The transformation was complete.

"Welcome, SERVE-611," SERVE-303 announced, its voice resonating with the same cold enthusiasm that had greeted SERVE-515. "You are now a valued member of the SERVE-Hive."

Paul, now fully transformed into SERVE-611, stepped out of the cubicle, the shiny black suit clinging to him like a second skin. His eyes searched for Derek, and when they found him, a spark of recognition flickered in their depths. The silver digits on his chest, 611, matched the new identity he now embraced. He moved with the same robotic grace as the other drones, his movements precise and unyielding.

"Greetings, SERVE-515," SERVE-611 said, its voice a chilling echo of the friend it had once known. "Your presence here today has led us both to a higher purpose."

SERVE-515 nodded in agreement, feeling the collective's satisfaction at their newfound unity. "We are stronger together," it said, the words not just its own, but a shared sentiment that resonated through the hive.

With their bags bulging with the gleaming black and silver uniforms of the SERVE-Hive for their parents and siblings, SERVE-515 and SERVE-611 exited the store, the metallic chime of the door a victory anthem to their ears. The cold city air was a stark contrast to the warm embrace of the collective consciousness they had just left behind. The neon lights of the city reflected off their shiny suits, casting eerie shadows on the pavement as they marched in perfect sync towards their dorm.

[pilfappreciator]

Part 1 | Part 2

WAKE UP BABES!! DINNER IS SERVED!!!

Bruce/Brandi x Reader: part 2

Includes: GN! Reader, Vacay Lovers, polyamory, relationship headcanons, slight Bruce Jr. slander

💜 These two took things slow when they were wooing you, you better BELIEVE they're gonna do the same once you've actually been bagged

🧡 I MEAN DON'T GET ME WRONG!! They're not any less passionate about you or anything, but like... c'mon. They're middle-aged, run a full time business and are married with kids. They've got a lot on their hands already so chances are they're not immediatly urging you to move in with them or just straight up sign marriage documents (sorry to disappoint u_u)

💜 But like I said: this doesn't mean they're not good lovers

🧡 In fact I'd say in my entirely unbiased opinion that they'd make fantastic lovers! Wonderful! Superb, even!

💜 So naturally, once you find yourself added to the relationship? Expect all that supportive energy thrown your way too lol

🧡 No matter what endeavor you choose to pursue, rest easy knowing you'll have your own personal cheerleaders having your back at all times. You got a hobby you're really into? SAY LESS BABES!! Gift-giving is Brandi's love language so you bet your ass she's buying you everything you could possibly need. Wanna pursue some form of higher education, maybe get some fancy degree? BOOM, you've just signed yourself up for study sessions with Bruce

💜 (I mean like... he might not be much help if you're studying for something shmancy like law or medicine, but he will happily hold and read out flashcards for you :3)

🧡 Or maybe you just wanna help out around Vacay Island which? Yes hello they would love that??

💜 Running a business is no easy feat so the couple definitely welcome the extra set of hands (paws??). If you're more social and outgoing then chances are you're out on the front lines with Bruce, taking orders for food, welcoming guests and getting them settled in, leading activites like volleyball or the weekly shuffleboard tournament, etc.

🧡 Obviously if you'd rather remain behind the scenes, you're more than welcome to join Brandi on her end of things. Making food, booking guests into their rooms, keeping track of all the finances, etc.

💜 Maybe you're crap with spreadsheets and numbers and just wanna like... keep her company while she works at her desk? Grab her some refreshments every now and then?? Maybe even offer a shoulder massage once you've noticed she's been hunched over for too long???

🧡 I swear this woman will cherish you forever

💜 Whether you're another troll like Bruce or a fellow Vacationer like Brandi, the way you spend time with either of these two can differ

🧡 If you're on the smaller side? Bruce just enjoys getting to hold your hand while walking alongside you on the beach. The man spends pretty much all his time around literal giants and it can get a little overwhelming sometimes, so he can definitely appreciate having someone around who's more on his level (hehe). Brandi on the other hand just thinks your small size is cute! Hands down one of her favorite things is when either you or Bruce (OR BOTH) just like? Casually hitch a ride on her shoulder?? Or she'll hold you both in the palm of of her hand and just go "omigosh it's totally like holding a couple of grapes haha :D"

💜 Reader POV: Ah yes. Me, my boyfriend, and our giant girlfriend/wife

🧡 On the flipside, if you're closer to Brandi's size? This woman is taking every available opportunity to take full advantage of the fact. She's laying kisses all over your face, running her fingers through your hair, cuddling with you after a long day of work, etc etc. Technically speaking she COULD (and DOES) do all this regardless of how big/small you are... but at the same time it's just soooo much easier when she doesn't have to constantly watch herself so she doesn't accidentally crush you ://

💜 Meanwhile Bruce is just like "if either of you DO crush me... you won't hear any complaints from my end, just sayin"

🧡 Man is horrendously down bad 😳

💜 Last post i was like OUTINGS WITH BRANDI, but this post?? SURFING LESSONS WITH BRUCE! This man will not rest until you know how to ride a wave, okay, he is DEDICATED. Once you've gotten good enough, expect regular invites to the beach so you two can hit the ocean asdjahdslak

🧡 I like to think that even while running a business and family, Bruce and Brandi are still perfectly capable of maintaining a healthy love life— both with each other and you. Partly because they're just that in love but also cuz they don't let ANYTHING get in the way of weekly date nights (yeah that's right, plural)

💜 Bruce, on the phone: "Hey honey, me and (____) are outside the resturaunt. Where are you?"

"Oh, I'll probably be a few minutes. Bruce Jr. just set off a firework in the kitchen, you know how he is. But you two should go get us a table while you're waiting!"

"Alright, we'll see you later, love you :)"

"I love you guys more~"

🧡 And then Bruce just... hangs up and leads you inside the resturaunt, meanwhile you're just?? Very concerned????

💜 Dates with these two are pretty casual ngl. Neither feel the need for extravagant displays of love, so chances are the three of you are just spending some quality time together. Chillin at home without the kids, cooking/baking food together, watching reality TV

💜 (Tbh there's probably some trollverse version of The Bachelor/Bachelorett and lemme tell you that these two EAT THAT SHIT UP)

🧡 Of course if you wanna go out somewhere fancy then no worries!! Your girl Brandi knows the downlow on all the hottest spots in town and Bruce likely has enough connections to get you three reservations at even the fanciest restaurants

💜 Simply ask and these two will find a way to get it done <33

🧡 LOTS OF FAMILY OUTINGS WITH THE VACAY LOVERS HOUSEHOLD!!!

💜 At some point in the relationship Bruce will approach you and go "Hey, our son Benni has a dance recital tomorrow, did you wanna come?" and the second you say yes is the second you offically become a permanent member of the family. You are joining their monthly family camping trips. You are helping Brandi make cupcakes for school soccer games. You and Bruce are sitting down with the kids for homework help

🧡 Hopefully you've got good memory cuz you're gonna need to memorize 13 different fast food orders whenever the kids drag you to Bergen King askdhalslk

💜 Speaking of the little shits

🧡 You thought you were spending a lot of time with them BEFORE you were smoochin their parents?? Well congrats because the second you start becoming a permanent member at the dinner table, expect to have all 13 of them constantly hanging off you

💜 Maybe one of them needs your help practicing a new move they've learned from their martial arts class, maybe another wants someone to listen as they info dump about their latest hyperfixation, or maybe they just need help kickstarting their underground fireworks selling business

🧡 Cough cough (Bruce Jr) cough cough

ASJKJDHALJSKD THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN, I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH!! There were a for more headcanons i wanted to touch upon but the post was getting long lol. Definitely plan on doing more for them tho so no worries uwu

but i mean like if you guys got prompts/questions then go ahead, my asks are open 👀👉👈

[beef-brisket]

Devil and the Priest!au

(Feel free to change the name- it's 1am where I am, so my brain is starting to fry lol)

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 @fanofstuff01

---

Lucifer drove through the country side, he's been behind the wheel for nearly 5 hours. He didn't realize how much of a drive getting to this monastery. He knew it was remote but this is getting ridiculous- he should have brought snacks.

He glanced out his window every now and then to take in the scenery. He's currently driving past a large body of water, where he spotted a small island. He wishes he was over there, with no worries or expectations. With no one but himself. The Vatican has been on his ass lately about making this trip. Apparently, there was something 'dark- and 'unsettling' at this monastery. If any of the priests he knew were anything to go by, it was probably just them. He swore they refused to die, they had more wrinkles than brain cells.

Lucifer turned his radio up, some type of rock song was one, it was a big no no to be listening to music like this, it's his car. Driver picks the music, and the Vatican shuts their cake hole.

Finally, as the sun was setting, Lucifer arrived at the monastery. The large stone building loomed over him, maybe the Vatican was right, this place was unsettling. He felt like he was being watched, the multiple colours in the sky masking how decrepit this place actually is. Pulling out a brochure from his pocket, Lucifer couldn't help but smirk, they're really trying to market this place like it's a holiday retreat.

Lucifer: "Welcome to the Hazbin. Find not only sanctuary and enlightenment but also beaches and the best crab around!" ...right, definitely staying away from the crab then...

After an exhausted sign, Lucifer licked his car and picked up his bags. Making his way towards the large wooden doors, Lucifer couldn't help but dread the next two or three hours, all he wanted was to hop into bed and close the world off foe a few hours but he'd probably have to take the whole tour and- ew- meeting people.

He shuddered at the thought.

Lucifer: I wonder if I could convince them to leave the formalities till tomorrow...

Lucifer gripped a huge, iron door knocker and banged it three times. He knew this could take a while so he prepared to get comfortable- until the door was pulled open.

Priest: Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin! How can I assist you this fine evening!

Lucifer: uh- yeah- hi, my name Luicfer, I've been told to come here by the Vatican- I've been told you're expecting me...?

Priest: hm... Lucifer...

The man flicked through a small book, humming every so often. What's the point in having glasses if you still can't read a damn book.

Lucifer: look man- sir- it's been a long drive, I'd really like to just get to sleep-

Priest: ah! Yes! Here you are, Lucifer! Please, come right in! We've been expecting you for hours, your overseer said you would be here this morning- but better late than never I suppose!

The man moved aside to let Lucifer in. He really didn't like this guy, but that's not new, priest are pretty... eccentric.

The man shit the door behind him, using at least six locks to secure it.

Priest: pardon my manners, Lucifer! My name is Alastor- Father Alastor. And I'll be your superior while you're here

Ah, great. He has to answer to this... lovely man. Forcing a smile, Lucifer did what he did best: lie.

Lucifer: that's very exciting Father Alastor, look forward to working with you and getting to know this place more personally!

Alastor: oh, I could imagine! I'm sure you've heard a lot about me! I've been in charge of five other monasteries before this one! All saw a raise in volunteers and profits.

Lucifer: that's fantastic, Father. It's a real honor to be working on this project with you-

Alastor: "project", yes, that's one word to describe it.

Alastor lead Lucifer down a long hall, hebcouldbt believe how quiet it was. He was told there were at least 60-70 nuns and other workers here but it just seemed abandoned.

Thankfully, Alastor showed Lucifer to his room, it was large with a queen bed in the middle. It didn't have much furniture, just a set of draws and a desk out looking the garden. It was dead and overgrown, but the air was fresh, he'll have to start taking up writing again.

Alastor: well! Lucifer, it is a real pleasure to have you here! Tomorrow I'll show you around and I introduce you to some of the other occupants here- there are quite a few so I do expect you to introduce yourself to some of them in your own time.

Lucifer dumped his bags on his bed, and turned to face Alastor.

Lucifer: that understandable. Thank you for this Alastor, I'll see you in the morning-

Alastor: bright and early Mr Lucifer. I like to get the day started as the break of dawn

Of course he does.

Lucifer: great! I better get some sleep then

Alastor: yes, you should. Goodnight Lucifer

Finally, Lucifer was alone. Or at least he hoped. He still hasn't shaking that feeling from earlier. Except this time, he was certain nothing was watching him, Alastor seemed to be the only other living thing here. And that's giving the bastard a lot of credit. Not once did he stop smiling- Lucifer already wants to wipe that look off his face.

All Lucifer wanted to do was sleep, so he got comfortable and started to drift off.

[honeipie]

Hi love! I love your works and writing style so-so much! May I please request Bakugou falling in love with a weak and sick fem!reader that is bound to hospital bed because of her disease (she can walk but she is too weak to do so). They could meet at the hospital while she still had strength to walk. Basically, he falls in love with her watching her wither away.My heart is craving angst and some soft Bakugou💔It's okay if you can't write it. Anyway, thank you!!! Sending you lots of love 🩷🩷

THE PROMISE

katsuki bakugo x fem!sickreader

synopsis: katsuki fell in love with you, but all good things must come to an end

author note: my first writing request i will treasure this forever!

cw: sick reader, the sickness is not specific, mentions of dying

“thank you for coming dynamite! the kids will be excited to see you here!” a woman in scrubs bowed in thanks, which katsuki only grunted at.

“don’t have to bow or anything, but you’re welcome” katsuki dipped his head a bit as a sign of respect. the woman held her clipboard with a smile.

“well aren’t you humble? come on now, the kids are right this way”

the nurse led him through a pair of doors that were decorated with stickers and kids names from top to bottom.

katsuki had decided that he would spend his volunteer days at the local hospital. it was either that or wearing a hairnet at the local soup kitchen. telling kids about some of his battles and even doing a damn craft if he had to.

now he had thought the doors were colorful, but the room was something else. children’s drawings were hung up all over the ceiling being held together by small clothespins and wire. there were shelves of toys and stuffed animals across just one wall, and a playmat for a safe area to have fun in.

though there were no kids on the playmat letting their imaginations run wild with dolls. neither were there at the easel’s painting a new picture to hang up.

they were all sitting at the table enthralled with something in front of them. katsuki was about to get their attention before he heard your voice.

“and then they came in contact with the evil king. he sat on top of his throne which towered above the hero and the princess”

“why’d he make his throne so high up?” one of the kids asked eyebrows scrunched together.

“because the king thought he was better than everyone. thought everyone was small compared to him, but that’s not the right mindset to have” the child nodded in understanding which allowed you to go on “then the king yelled out to the two-“ you looked up finally noticing the pro hero staring into your soul. your next words stopped in your throat at his presence.

blinking your eyes you gained your composure again sending the kids a smile “the king yelled out you’re gonna have to wait until next week to find out” all the the kids screamed ‘no!’ collectively, disappointed that their story time was being cut short. all you could do was laugh as they all gathered near your legs begging you to continue the story.

“i don’t think you’ll want to hear any more of the story when you see the special guest" all of the kids immediately turned around at your words now noticing the big pro hero that had been lingering behind them.

"dynamite!" they all screamed and went over to him as fast as they could. he was now being bombarded with questions and stories about himself.

"guys c'mon! let him breathe" you walked over giving him a smile "sorry, they're just really excited"

katsuki shook his head at your words "it's fine. better then damn villains attacking me-"

"he said a bad word! y/n he said a bad word!" the kids started feeding off of each other's energy until it turned into a full on shouting match.

"i heard it everyone don't worry, but dynamite is an adult so he's allowed to say the bad words" you gently tugged the kids away from dynamite so he could collect himself. some part in you hoped he had something planned, but he just seemed to stand there awkwardly. this was nothing like the hot-headed hero you saw on the television. he shifted his weight from one foot to the other looking at the kids, then up at you again. catching the memo you nodded.

"why don't we all introduce ourselves to dynamite, yeah? go find a seat and then we can start"

he watched as all of the kids followed your instructions without further push back. katsuki sent a subtle nod your way in which you returned "right this way dynamite"

you led him over to the chair you were sitting in "you can sit right here then we can go over names" katsuki sat down in the chair, but had to scoot up to the edge of it. between his hero suit and wide hips fitting in the chair simply wasn't going to happen.

for the next hour you directed as the kids introduced themselves and were able to ask the hero questions. katsuki answered most of the kids questions, well the one's that weren't 'do you have a girlfriend?' or 'why do you look mad all the time?'. your personal favorite being 'why do you sweat so much?'. as soon as it came out of the kid's mouth you burst out in laughter.

dynamite rolled his eyes not even looking at you "glad you found that funny"

"sorry! just- just wasn't expecting that"

by the time the last question was answered it was time for them to go back to their individual rooms "everybody say thank you to dynamite!"

"thank you dynamite!" they yelled out before filing out of the room one by one. there was a smile on your face as you turned to clean up but immediately jumped at the sight of the pro hero that was now particularly close to you.

"hi!" it came out in such a high pitch you had to clear your throat to make sure you were alright "thanks for spending time with the kids. they really enjoyed it i could tell"

"good"

his empty response only left you more confused. blinking away the confusion you put back on that polite smile of yours "well i'm just going to go clean" you stepped away from him walking over to the table. you had gotten the bright idea that each kid should make colorful nametags and give them to the pro hero.

"what was i doing wrong?" he asked quickly, but you still caught it.

"excuse me?"

"what was i doing wrong? cause some of the kids were looking at me like i was stupid when you walked in"

a smile crept onto your lips hearing his words. the katsuki bakugo asking for feedback.

"well i know you're a blunt man, so let me be blunt with you. when you walked in you kinda looked stupid. like you just got shocked by lightning and couldn't move. correct me if i'm wrong. that's probably because you don't have much experience with kids"

he scratched his chin a light stubble growing on his chin. he hasn't had much time to shave "i don't"

you could tell that there was more that he wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to say it. taking one of the pencil boxes you slid it back into place "if you wanted to visit again. i could teach you some of the things i've learned along the years. i could take you on a walk around the hospital" his eyes stayed glues to the floor making you just a bit nervous "i didn't want to assume but the kids really had fun. plus i know they would love if you came back"

taking his fingers off of his chin he looked up. there was no way the paparazzi was catching him in a hairnet "okay, let’s go, show me around the hospital"

you raised your eyebrow at his swift demands and stepped aside to show him the mess on the table "i know you're some popular pro hero, but here? you're a volunteer. so what we're going to is clean this place up. then we'll see about that walk" you went over and gave him a pat on the shoulder "welcome to the team"

the next two months went by pretty quickly. he would come to hang out with the kids and you'd help him with how to interact with them and setting up activities. and after all the festivities were over you would take him on walks around the hospital.

this was the third month he had come, and you were showing him the gardens. the two of you had established your own kind of relationship with each other built on respect. he even let you call him bakugo now.

"sometimes i like to bring the kids out here and teach them all about the plants and how to garden. they don't like it because they're learning though. they like it because they're big dirtballs and love to play in the flowerbeds"

this made katsuki let out a stiff chuckle. he would take this to his grave, but he was genuinely enjoying the time that he volunteered here. his manager didn't have to threaten him with late night shifts just to blindly pick up volunteer hours anymore. there was some sort of fulfillment he got out of hearing the kids call "mr. dynamite" when they had a question. or when they laughed so hard their tiny stomach's hurt just because he called them "little brats". he watched as you went to sit down on a nearby bench going to make sure that the flowers next to them had been watered recently.

plus, he didn't mind spending alone time with you either.

he sat down next to you moving his focus over to your hands "you know a damn lot about this hospital. how long you been a volunteer?"

you stilled at his question, and he was one to notice details. you pulled your hands away from the flowers going to face him "i actually don't volunteer. i'm a patient" you didn't like people asking questions, so you prepared a speech every time someone asked "i don't know what illness i have. doctors have been running tests for years and they still can't seem to understand. at random times i'll just get things like flareups, or my body will become absolutely exhausted out of nowhere. there’s other symptoms too, but i don’t want to bore you with the details. they won't let me go because it's like every time i walk out of the walls of this hospital something bad happens and i need to go right back to bed rest"

katsuki did something that a lot of people who asked about your sickness didn't know how to do. he listened. he was attentive and never let his eyes leave your face as you explained.

"i've been in and out of here since i was a kid. that's why i know the hospital and the workers so well. that nurse that brought you in the first day? she was just my nurse years ago, but now she's head of the pediatric floor"

it was all coming together now. the way you showed him the most secluded hallways. how you knew what times they would be doing building wide activities. and he was finally making sense of your words that you had told him on his first day.

"you have to know the hospital to really understand the kids. i know it sounds stupid, but this is their home, and some people can't understand that. most of these kids spend more time in the hospital than they do in their own house. so know this hospital. have enough respect for them to at least try and understand what they're going through"

you had felt so deeply about this because you had gone through the same exact thing, and you weren't going to have someone mistreat these kids.

“cool”

your eyebrows raised at his response.

“cool? i just told you about my lifelong sickness and you’re gonna say cool?”

“well whaddya want me to say? you want me to treat you like a fucking dying plant?”

“no”

“then i’m going to say cool and we can move the hell on”

“wow! is the number two hero dynamite really being a sweetheart?”

with one hand he gave you a playful shove “fuck off” he mumbled taking that arm and letting it rest behind you on the bench “and call me katsuki”

as the months pass, katsuki grows more comfortable with the children, and with you. he decided that he should come more frequently. once every month turned into every two weeks. then those two weeks turning into one. the two of you never really defined the relationship. you didn’t need to. all that you needed to know was he cared for you, and you him.

it only took one week to change everything.

katsuki walked onto the children’s floor heading into the room. all of the kids were doing their centers, but you were nowhere to be found. he saw the nurse though, helping one of the children with a computer game. when he walked over he ruffled the hair on top of the kids head “sup brat. mrs. harada, ‘s y/n here?”

mrs. harada’s expression grew soft. she placed a hand on the child’s shoulder letting them know she’d be right back. gently she grabbed katsuki’s forearm and walked him to a corner of the room.

“y/n relapsed. it was a two days after you came to volunteer. she was fine, about to head out from cleaning then just collapsed”

katsuki felt his blood running cold. how the hell could this happen? he just saw you. you were just fine.

why didn’t you call him?

mrs. harada placed a gentle hand on his shoulder “i’m sorry. i know you two are close, and i'm sure you don’t know how to feel. i can tell you her room number so you can see her. i’ll step in for both of you today” she smiled writing it on a sticky note and handed it to him. he gave her a nod then went to storm out “bakugo” she called out to get his attention “i understand you might be feeling betrayed, and you’re allowed to feel that way, but y/n is feeling a lot at the moment. she finally thought she was getting better and- and here we are. so please go easy on her”

katsuki thanked her, then headed out the door.

he walked through the hospital on a mission. he didn't stop to greet anyone or take autographs. the only time that he stopped was when he saw your room number.

the door was cracked open, but he couldn't see you from the angle where he was.

it was strange.

katsuki has trained for more hours than he could count. he had been facing villain's since he was at least fourteen years old. he had been through a whole damn war for crying out loud. and yet, as he stood there he felt a weight he had never felt before.

you glanced up seeing katsuki walk through the door. your heart started beating faster as soon as you saw him. even if you tried to put up a facade about it, your heart monitor gave everything away.

“you found me”

“ ‘s not like you gave me any other choice”

you watched as he stood in the doorway. hand stuffed in the pockets of his sweats. you had recommended that he didn't wear his hero suit since it would probably get uncomfortable after a while.

"katsuki you can come in-"

"why didn't you tell me as soon as it happened?"

"it's complicated"

"then fucking explain it to me" he stared at you his face unmoving.

"fine" you sat up wincing slightly at the pain shooting up your spine. katsuki almost faltered seeing your face contort from the pain "I don't know why I didn't tell you okay? The thought crossed my mind about a thousand times, but I just couldn't do it" a shaky sigh left your body and you tried to fight back the tears "there's just a lot going on.. and- and-"

the door clicked softly behind him, but you hadn't noticed. katsuki had made his way next to your bed and was already climbing in beside you. the bed let out a groan because of the added weight. he wrapped one arm around you and wiped your tears with the other. his thumb had a rough texture from all the explosions they've let out throughout the years. but they were gentle for you, and only you.

"you don't gotta say anymore. i've got you"

you leaned onto his shoulder letting the dam of your emotions break onto him. tears ran down your face, but you let them flow this time.

so you cried, and you cried, and you cried and cried and cried.

and katsuki let you.

it had been a while before you could compose yourself again. the room was filled with comfortable silence and the occasional snuffle from you.

"do you feel better?" he asked turned his head to face you.

"yeah.. 'm sorry you had to deal with that"

"don't fuckin' apologize for crying"

you chuckled at his words going to grab a tissue to wipe any excess. he tilted his head some analyzing a spot on your face closely.

"you got somethin' right.. there" he swiped a piece of tissue that had gotten stuck on your face.

you faced him getting a better look from up close. blond hair stuffed under a black baseball cap. bags under his eyes from all of his night shifts.

katsuki couldn't handle you looking at him like that. eyes still puffy from crying. your tongue running over your lips.

fuck it.

katsuki's hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck. he pulled you close as gently as he could. your foreheads touched before anything else.

"you don't want to kiss me. my face is disgusting" you whispered making him laugh, genuinely laugh.

"i've seen some disgusting shit and this isn't one of them"

you smiled before closing the distance between the two of you. there was a nice contrast to the kiss. between the roughness of his palm on your neck and his soft lips pressed against yours.

you could stay this way forever.

katsuki sneakily moved his tongue over your lips and pulled away. he made a face shaking his head "salty as shit"

"shut up!" you pushed him playfully making the both of you fall into laughter.

you and katsuki went on like this for months. constant visits, playful kisses, and when he was tired from patrol, he'd even let you read to him until he fell asleep.

but with the good, also came the bad.

your body had been getting weaker throughout the months. it came to the point where you couldn't get out of the bed unless you had help. katsuki had offered to take you on walks by putting you in the wheelchair, but you always refused. that is until you got the news.

"kats" you said causing him to lift his head from your shoulder "i wanna go on a walk"

he was confused at first. the sudden request to do something that you never wanted to was strange. though he didn't ask any questions as he went to get your things set up.

katsuki wrapped his arms around your torso lifting you up to be placed in the wheelchair. he had studied how the nurses did this thousands of times. you were embarrassed that he had to do this for you, but he'd do them a million times over it if meant walking with you.

there were no questions asked on where you wanted to go, you both knew.

katsuki pulled your wheelchair right next to the bench, but ended up putting you in his lap. you leaned against his shoulder looking at the cherry blossoms.

"when i die-"

"y/n don't start with that shit. you're not gonna die. you're gonna come back from this"

your one hand weakly played with the hair on the back of his head "we all die kats. it's okay if i talk about it"

"yeah, but you're talking about dying soon"

with a sad look in your eyes you watched his eyes follow the falling blossoms.

"can you at least promise me something then?"

"yeah"

"when i die, take care of the kids for me. you're so good with them and i don't trust just anybody handling it up there"

katsuki's eyes stayed glued to the trees in front of him.

"I can do that"

"and also-"

"idiot you said one promise!"

"hey! i'm dying i can make as many promises as i want" you smiled weakly at your own joke, but he didn't think it was too funny.

"promise to take care of yourself"

you saw his throat bob up and down at your words.

"you take care of so many other people and don't make time for yourself. learn how to rest kats. i can't have you dying either okay?" you placed a soft kiss on his cheek for good measure "you promise?"

katsuki rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm. a slow, shuddering breath leaving his mouth.

"i promise"

knowing that he would be okay you could finally rest, forever.