#A look it’s a little critter! What are you doing in my house at night? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animasola86 · 2 months ago

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🦇 FANGS TO REMEMBER

m!vampires x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 3.6k

On your way back to the party, you come across a graveyard. Unbeknownst to you, you are trespassing onto someone's property, and they are not happy about it. Or are they?

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Vampires! Noncon/dubcon! Threesome! Spitroasting! Biting! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 5 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 This is the continuation of OPTION 3/PART 4 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene:

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and after drinking a strange drink, you decide to get some fresh air, running into a werewolf who instantly decides to knot and breed you, and after that ordeal is done, you flee from him, and come across a graveyard...

ADDITIONAL WARNING: This one is very dark. It's more noncon than dubcon, so if you don't like the themes, you can skip it (imagine something dark happening) and read the next part here.

You look around, but there's only one way forward: through the graveyard. It's too dark to see anything else, no maze, no garden, no house, you can't even see the cabin anymore you just left. The night is eerily quiet, no critters, nothing. Even the wind seems to take a break for now.

Inhaling deeply, you hug your arms around your body and take a step through the large wrought-iron gates, looking left and right at the rows of crooked tomb stones. A strange mist wafts close to the ground, giving off an otherworldly glow. The moon is long gone it seems, the sky too cloudy to show any stars, but still you can see the various shapes around you.

You're not easily spooked, usually, but being alone in a cemetery at night makes your imagination run wild, wilder than it has been all evening. The slightest movement makes you flinch as you tread carefully along the path, goosebumps rippling over your exposed skin whenever something brushes against your bare legs. The shirt is soft and warm, but in the end not long enough after all, no matter how hard you tug at its hem.

A sudden shuffling sound makes your blood run cold and you freeze on the spot, your heart beating out of your chest, cold fear gripping your limbs. It came from behind one of the larger tomb stones, decorated with a small angel statue. You stare into the darkness, pressing your lips together to keep the noises from spilling past them. Probably just an animal. Your mind is surely playing tricks on you.

But when the same sound comes from right behind you, you whirl around with a shriek, stumbling back as you see a large black shadow blocking your view. You expect to fall onto your butt, but something keeps you from it, another shadow – and this one has hands. Hands that grip your arms, holding you tightly. Another scream rips from your throat as you thrash about, trying to get away, before another hand finds its way to your mouth, muffling all the noises you want to let out.

Your eyes are wide when the shadows around you form into the shapes of two big men, pale in the eerie light, tall and muscular, dressed surprisingly well for creatures that lurk in the dark.

“What do we have here?” the one with his hand on your mouth says, tilting his head, giving you a smile that makes his handsome face look almost diabolical. “A little rabbit? In our cemetery?”

“Did you get lost, little one?” the other man, the one behind you, whispers as he leans his head closer, rubbing his smooth cheek against yours. It's cold to the touch.

You stiffen, unable to do or say anything. Maybe you're still dreaming, or again. But the way these men grab you feels too real. They are strong. Intimidatingly so. You swallow hard, gasping when the one behind you gives you a deep sniff.

“Ugh, she reeks of dog,” he says with a drawl. “Had some fun with the beast, didn't you?”

Suddenly you feel a hand between your legs, a cold touch, coaxing a muffled yelp out of you as you feel probing fingers right against your warm crotch. “Huh, yeah, he got to her alright. Filled to the brim...” He pulls his fingers away and raises them to your face, and you can see the thick substance coating them. “Too bad, really, I was looking forward to ravaging that sweet cunt...”

You glare at him, both in shock and indignation. He pulls his hand from your mouth and shoves his soiled fingers between your lips. A muffled grunt of protest slips from your throat, but your attempts to get away are futile as the other man still holds your arms tightly. A bitter and slightly salty taste fills your mouth, but with how the man presses his digits onto your tongue you can't do anything but flick it around them, licking them clean.

“At least she seems quite obedient,” he muses with a menacing tone, watching you closely, moving his fingers in and out of your mouth.

“We can still have some fun with her,” the man behind you says quietly, his nose nuzzling your neck. “He hasn't marked her yet. She's fair game.”

“Splendid,” the other replies with a laugh and pulls his fingers away with a wet popping sound. You quickly swallow the spit gathered on your tongue and lick your quivering lips. “So, little bunny, do you wanna try to run? I would die for a little hunt... if I wasn't already dead,” he adds with a reverberating laugh that makes you shiver deeply.

You just stare at him, your chest rising and falling faster. “I don't think she'll come far,” the man rubbing his hands over your arms retorts. “She seems weakened. The beast clearly got her good. Let's just enjoy her until her heart gives out, hm?”

You gasp at the implication, immediately silenced by a hand reaching out to grab your chin. “Fine. It is already enough to hear this beautiful beat,” the man in front of you whispers as he leans closer. “Are you scared, rabbit?”

Your eyes dart over his pale face, and when he bares his teeth and licks them slowly, you stare at his pointy canines. After having just met a real werewolf (or so you think, it's all so fuzzy in your head right now), you shouldn't be surprised to meet actual vampires, in a graveyard no less, pale and cold and strong, with sharp fangs and insatiable appetites, but your body still reacts as if you were indeed just a bunny cornered by two predators. A tiny whimper escapes your throat. “Please...”

“Hmm? Please what? Use your words, darling!” the man behind you snarls, rubbing his nose against your neck before you feel his lips on your pulse, nibbling teasingly.

“Please let me go...” you press out.

“Not going to happen, sweetheart,” he replies, his low voice muffled. “You came to us. Walked right onto our property. It's our right to do with you whatever we like...”

You squirm in his hold when he laps his tongue up your neck. The other man watches you, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip before he suddenly leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours. You gasp, staring at him. “You won't regret it, little one,” he breathes against you. His skin feels cold, but the close proximity makes your cheeks burn up badly. “We'll give you a good time, don't worry your pretty little head!”

And suddenly you are being lifted, nausea rolling over you as you find yourself somehow floating in the air. It's all a blur at this point. Footsteps crunch over gravel and dead leaves, thump against stone plates, old hinges screech as a door is being opened. The fresh air becomes stale and dusty, the light even darker. You move down a set of stairs, but you can't move, your head is swimming, your insides tensing up in a way that borders on painful. You can barely breathe, and you have no idea why.

Candle light flickers to life when the men take you through a large wooden door. Your eyes blink into focus slowly. You seem to be in some sort of mausoleum, old looking, corners full of cobwebs, aged statues lining the walls. In the middle of the round room, there are two stone coffins, both of them open, their heavy stone slabs pushed to the side. You swallow hard, trying to see this as a scene, a decorated room fit for an elaborate Halloween party.

But somehow you doubt this is part of it.

“Excuse the mess,” one of the men says as he walks to the coffins. “We didn't expect company tonight...”

He raises a hand – and as you're being set down on your feet again, you witness how the heavy slab moves seemingly on its own or by a strange unseen force, leaving you even more confused. Both coffins are closed now, and before you can question anything else, you are being draped over the short side of one of them, stomach pressed to the cold stone, arms and legs hanging off the edges. A groan escapes you.

“Let's clean her up first, I can't stand the stink of wolf,” one man says as he steps behind you, pushing your legs further apart. You feel a strange coldness rushing through your body, like water, but not really wet, a sensation that leaves you choking on your own spit. “There, better. Don't you feel better too, darling? No longer stuffed full of disgusting beast semen? Well, I don't want to kink shame or anything, maybe you are into being bred, but we do like our holes squeaky clean – for us to soil all over again.”

You squirm on the stone slab, your hands trying to find purchase on the smooth surface, your legs kicking helplessly, but before you can do anything, the other man steps in front of you, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. You find yourself face-to-face with his throbbing cock. They don't seem to waste any time, huh? He presses his thumb and finger into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You issue a groan of protest that is quickly muffled by his surprisingly warm member. You have no choice but to close your lips around it. (Even if you wanted to bite down on him, you couldn't, his hand is still holding your jaw open.)

“Good bunny, you know what to do, hm?” he tells you, slowly rolling his hips against you, his tip scraping along your gums, teasing at the back of your throat. Saliva pools on your tongue, and you feel the need to swallow it before it drips past your lips. When you do, he groans quietly. “Oh, yes, like that. Do that again.” Somehow his words seem to encourage you, and you swallow around him once more, straining your throat enough for tears to fill your eyes.

Behind you, you feel two cold hands rubbing up and down your thighs, gripping them, pulling them apart, before they slip up your rear and push the large shirt out of the way. “So I assume after your little werewolf ordeal, your poor little cunt is a little tired, wouldn't you agree?” he rasps teasingly. “Good thing you have another hole, huh, my sweet?”

You let out a series of muffled cries around the cock in your mouth when you feel probing fingers between your ass cheeks. “Mhmmnngh!” you croak out, thrashing on the stone slab, trying to get away. A sudden slap on your soft rear makes you howl, but ultimately stops your fidgeting. Your skin burns and throbs horribly. “Shh, relax, rabbit. You can take it. See?”

Before you can react, you feel a strange pressure against your sphincter, a teasing touch but unrelenting, and suddenly you have a finger in your ass. Your tight muscles clench around the thick digit, and you wriggle in your compromised position, almost gagging yourself on the dick between your lips when you push yourself against the man's groin and his cock deeper into your mouth. A jerk goes through your body, your hands fruitlessly trying to hold onto anything.

You don't feel in control of your limbs anymore, it's strange. You can feel everything, but you can't move, only rock back and forth on the coffin. The man behind you pushes his finger deeper, then pulls it out and replaces it with two. The stretch hurts, and you let out a muffled wail. Your noises seem to encourage him when he moves them in and out faster, deeper, a hard press against your protesting muscles.

Meanwhile the man holding your jaw increases the pace of his hips slamming against your face. His cock pushes deep, and you gag violently when he breaches your throat, your body convulsing, spit filling your mouth. He pulls back slightly, allows you to breathe and cough and swallow, but then repeats the motion, and you gag again, and the cycle continues. Your head is spinning by the fifth time he forced his length down your throat, and you feel too weak to protest anymore.

Not even when you notice that the man playing with your ass has added another finger and is plunging his hand hard against your rear, a dizzying rhythm, forceful, stretching you for whatever comes next. You can guess and it scares you. But there's nothing you can do as he suddenly pulls his fingers out with a wet pop and you feel his cockhead pressing against your slightly gaping hole. A deep grunt escapes him when he rocks his pelvis forward, sinking into your depths without mercy, carving his way through your impossible tightness.

Your muffled scream is overpowered by loud gurgling noises as the cock in your mouth pistons in and out fast, always pushing deep, bulging your neck, his crotch slapping into your face with each thrust. You are pushed and pulled, rocked back and forth, impaled front and back, cold hands holding your head up or digging into your hips as the two men use you for their pleasure, their grunts filling the space around you.

Despite their rough handling, you feel a strange heat growing inside you, and you realize that with every slam into your ass or snap into your throat, you are rubbed over the rough stone, and your clit quickly feels raw and swollen from the added stimulation. Moaning into the rapidly moving cock in your mouth, you focus on the good feelings, not the burning friction in your rear, not the rawness of your throat, the lack of air or the helplessness, just the bliss that tries to fight through the pain and discomfort.

But before you can even imagine any edge to fall over, they suddenly slow down, languid strokes that push deep until they stop altogether, one cock buried deep in your ass, the other pushed all the way down your throat as pubic hair tickles your nostrils. Your eyes roll back, your lungs burn, your body spasms fruitlessly. Groans echo in your ear.

“Let's turn her around,” one says.

“You wanna switch places too?” the other replies, almost a little breathlessly.

“Sure, I bet she doesn't mind a little ass to mouth action, huh, sugar?”

A loud slap against your bruised rear makes you gag violently, and as spit fills your mouth and tears stream down your face, you are being rotated on the cold stone slab, arms still hanging limply to the ground while your legs twitch as they're being pushed up and against your heaving chest, opening you up further. Cold air brushes over your exposed skin, and for a short moment they let go of you, cocks pull back, leaving trails of stickiness all over your face and crotch.

You are lightheaded, barely able to function, and that moment of reprieve is short-lived. You didn't even get the chance to swallow or breathe properly before a cock is being shoved back into your mouth. Hands curl around the back of your head, holding it up as the stiff and slimy length is pushed straight into your bruised throat. You can only croak out a muffled grunt before a heavy pair of balls slam against your nose.

“Tongue out,” the man above you orders, and you comply, hoping it'll be easier with your mouth wide open and your tongue extended to guide the throbbing cock in and out. “Good. Just like that. Look at that neck bulging. Ugh,” he continues, groaning as he rams deep into your throat and rests there, cutting off any air flow you may have had earlier. You squirm on the coffin, limbs twitching helplessly.

Before you drift off into unconsciousness, he pulls back and slaps your cheek. The pain drags you back immediately. “No fainting, rabbit, we need you awake for this.” You cough hoarsely, spit and precum flying through the air. You're too weak to open your eyes, and it doesn't matter anyway. His hand is on your neck now, squeezing slightly. “Ahh, yes, listen to that frantic heartbeat,” he rasps, slowly slipping his cock back between your lips. “Are you afraid to choke, hm? Or does that turn you on?”

You gag when he presses into your throat slowly, your whole body jerking against the man on the other side, who's holding your legs open and pressed to your chest. You are allowed to cough and swallow before it happens all over again, again and again, and while one man fucks your throat with reckless abandon, the other rubs his cold hand down your mound, teasing at your swollen clit, parting your puffy labia, but then he dips his finger into your ass, completely ignoring your hungrily clenching cunt.

There's no further preparation, and a moment later he shoves his cock into your tight hole, making you wail against the dick in your throat. He lets go of your legs, causing them to flop about wildly with each thrust as he starts pounding into you hard and fast, then you feel his long fingers on your burrowed shirt. You barely register how it's ripped open, but you do feel those cold palms pressing onto your soft mounds, pebbling your skin, your nipples hardening instantly. The touch is almost soothing among all the other things happening to you.

It's a whirlwind of sensations, the lack of air and strain to your throat and jaw on one side, the rough friction and burning heat and hard pummeling on the other. You are moved back and forth on the stone surface, a limp body to be used. You don't know how long this is going on, but these guys seem to have incredible stamina. They just won't stop.

Whenever you feel as if you're slipping into the welcoming darkness, you are slapped and brought back, your cheeks burning and throbbing, but it's only one of many aches by now. You can't decide which is worse, the suffocating stretch when a cock buries deep into your throat, or the rough pummeling of sore muscles when the other cock rams into your tight ass. It's all a blur in the end.

The men are groaning and grunting, snapping their hips against you, uncaring of your discomforts. They're chasing their own orgasms while you remain teetering far away from any sort of release. The room is filled with loud squelching noises, gurgles and slurps, slapping of skin against skin, a soundscape that seems to be your only form of stimulation. Not even the cold hands on your breasts push you further to the edge, they are just there, holding you, groping hard, anchoring you as you are pushed back and forth.

At least they have a rhythm now, in and out in an alternating way, almost like a seesaw, in goes the one in your throat, out moves the one in your ass, and then it's the other way around. And somehow you find comfort in it as you lie there, held in place, unable to move, your eyelids fluttering, tears and snot drying on your sweat-slick skin.

It's then that you feel cold fingers brushing down your quivering belly, down, down, until they rub against your clit, and you arch your back, inhale that cock in your throat, jerk your hips against the one pounding into your ass, and you come, clenching down hard, stiffening, eyes rolling back, bliss exploding through the veils of darkness.

You feel like floating, leaning into the wave of pleasure that washes over you as you let it all happen. And as you do, the men's motions grow jerkier, rougher, faster, and they come too, almost at the same time. Cum shoots down your throat, and you'd expect to feel the same sensation in your ass, but the man there pulls out and empties himself all over your mound and stomach, all the way to your neck. The pressure in your throat loosens then, and similar spurts of wet warmth hit your face.

Raspy breaths make it past your soiled, swollen lips as you lie there with your eyes closed. Strong hands move you until you're lying fully on your back, legs outstretched, arms put at the sides of your body, head supported by the hard stone slab beneath you. Cold fingers trail your skin.

“I wish we could keep her,” you hear a quiet voice that barely makes it past the cotton in your head.

“I'm not risking another war with those savages just because of one puny human...” says a different voice. “We'll find another one.”

“Let's feed and get her back onto the path.”

You blink your eyes open, noticing the two men, the two vampires, standing over you, staring down at you from both sides of the coffin. Their teeth are bared, fangs glistening in the swaying candle light, and before you can do anything, they lean down, one goes straight for your neck, his pointy canines sinking deeply into your skin, and you feel it, despite your fucked-out state, you feel the cold crashing through your veins.

The same sensation happens between your legs, on one of your inner thighs as the other bites down into your soft flesh. You whimper soundlessly, throat hoarse and sore, body too weak to move against the assault. They suck your blood noisily, like the thirsty monsters they are, and you just let it happen, again, what other choice do you have? Your head is spinning as you feel the cold spread through your trembling limbs.

And the world fades...

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

End notes: The last part is here!

By the way, this is a nod towards my standalone Vampire oneshot Down the Rabbit Hole which also has dubcon elements and more than one vampire, but isn't as dark.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

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blimpintime · 4 months ago

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a jar of wind part two

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to an end.

warnings: none besides being slightly unedited.

word count: 1.4k

4 months later

Dearest Wynnie Lara,

I hope you are doing well, we miss you very dearly in the Night Court but understand you leaving after such harsh things were spoken to you. I wanted to invite you to Nyx’s first birthday celebration. He does miss you so much. (As do we).

After finding out what Azriel and the other two had said to you I almost blew up their homes with the help of my sisters.

Elain misses you very much, even though she writes letters to you weekly, you and her seemed to help each other heal after everything happened to you both. She won't tell anybody where you have gone so I will be handing this letter to her in hopes it reaches you.

We miss you so much, and I hate that the boys said those harsh things to you for no reason. You are not a bother, or suffocating, you light up every space you go into which is so refreshing, I do not want you to feel forced to come home (Nesta feels otherwise, she misses you so much she almost started a war with another court in search of you.) But we do want you to know you do have a home here. No matter what. I know Rhys feels devastated with how the situation turned out, even though it is partially his fault. I want to make it clear how sorry we are for their actions and that we adore you.

Lovingly,

Feyre

I crumple the edges of the letter with tears streaming down my face, with a shaking breath I fold the letter gently and put it back into the envelope. I set it with the piles of letters Elain has sent to me on my coffee table. I wipe my face and head over to my rough looking door of the tree house that I am living in and latch it. This area of the Autumn Court has always been on the poorer side but it was home. Growing up with no family and moving around as a fairy was never safe, so before Amarantha’s reign I settled in this area of Autumn.

Having not been to this home in two years it took a while to get it back into shape, cleaning and removing critters that have turned it into their home while I was gone. I have wind chimes and wards surrounding this home just like my other one, the difference here though is the Autumn wind is much more soothing for me then in any other court. It’s almost like my soul knows it's safe here.

I have my wind playing soothing music with the small instruments placed around the open room. Candles lit and windows open for the utmost ambiance while I research different wind patterns.

I hear one of my chimes go off near the front door that catches my attention, I get up from the table and walk back to the door. Frantic knocking is what I hear once I get to the door itself, I rip it open to see what is wrong.

“Miss Wynnie!” with a sob, and I look down to see one of the kids I help take care of from the children’s shelter near my tree house. Little antlers poke through his red hair, and tears stream down his tanned face as he launches towards me.

“Oatie what is the matter?” I say and crouch to his level. I put my hands on his shoulders to sooth him and look him in the eyes.

“Those mean guards are back at the shelter, they are demanding more money.” Oatie is a twelve year old boy who had to grow up quickly due to being an orphan partially under Beron’s rageful reign, but he was still a gentle soul. Things have started to get better slowly with the new High Lord, but it is a slow process when the court has so much hate built in.

“Okay sweet boy, it’s going to be alright. Go curl up on the couch with a book and some tea and I will go take care of this okay?” I tell him with a soft voice. He nods and heads off that way. Once he is settled on the couch I fix my dress, and re-braid the two long braids under my bob and fly off the balcony.

When I arrive at the shelter there are two guards yelling at the volunteer on duty at the shelter. With a burst of wind I separate them from the worker, and land in front of them. I motion for the worker to go inside.

“What is the issue here?” I bark at them, their heated eyes turn to me.

“They owe us money for protection.” The one on the right says with a grunt.

“That’s your job. The High Lord literally pays you to protect the people. So that was the wrong answer, do me a favor and try again.” I say while rolling my eyes and shifting my weight to one hip.

“You bitch.” One says and I let out a laugh with a clap of my hands. I know I probably shouldn’t egg them on but it’s so easy. As I am about to respond they both seem to stiffen and look behind me.

“Well that’s no way to speak to a lady.” I turn to face the new voice, which belongs to High Lord Eris, who recently has had his hair trimmed since the last time I saw him.

“She is barely a lady, my lord.” One said with a snicker. I respond with a glare and a large gust of wind knocking them both over.

I turn to face Eris completely and give him a graceful curtsy grabbing the edges of my green dress. To which I receive a sucking of the teeth sound from him.

“Wynnie dear, stand up please. You don’t have to bow to me, we are old friends.” He says with a soft smile. The two guards seemed to have disappeared leaving the two of us alone. I straighten and glow a soft pink with a cheeky grin say,

“Yes, well, I have to show my respect My Lord.” He chuckles and makes a small lunge toward me, so I float backwards and he narrowly misses me.

“You’ll have to be quicker than that to catch me sir.” He grunts a small breath and lunges towards me again. And I am suddenly reminded of when we were younger.

“Eris! Where are you?” I yell knowing he is hiding behind one of the trees with his hounds.

“Got you!” I hear from behind me and feel my waist being pulled into someone's chest. I look up over my shoulder and see Eris with a wide grin. I pout at him.

“That’s not fair.” I whine. “You know I am afraid of your pups, they think I am a big bird waiting to be hunted.” He laughs in response.

“I would never let them hurt you Wynnie Lara, I would never let anyone hurt you.” He said softly. “You are my only friend in this wretched court. I will burn it down to protect you.”

“Eris that is sweet but, you are an heir would that not be counterproductive?” I ask teasingly but my skin glowing a bright warm orange with endearment.

“Not for you Wynnie.” He says.

“I can’t stay in this area long, but I did want to invite you to dinner soon.” He tells me when we both are sitting on the forest floor. Me on a rock with my wings glowing and him leaned up against it. My hands naturally find his hair and gently run my fingers through it.

“I would love to.” I tell him, “I might visit the Night Court here soon.” I say with a whisper.

“Oh?” He asks me softly.

“Nyx is turning one and I miss the girls a little bit.” I responded.

“Yes, that's understandable. I still am beyond livid for how you were treated there.” He says back with a huff. And I laugh a little, “You and me both.”

“I will have to send you with a gift, hmm?” He tells me.

“That would be very kind of you, my lord.” And in response I get him standing up and pinching my sides.

“Mercy! Mercy!” I say in between giggles.

“Alright Wynn. I will send a letter for dinner when you return. Be safe and have a good night.” He tells me with a pat to the head and soft voice.

a/n: soooooooooooo what do with think???

I am a sucker for soft Eris omggggg. Please if any questions please let me know!

I am trying the taglist I hope it works lmao

taglist: @cazrielsfairygf @buckyloki888 @litnerdwrites @the-fandom-ness @booksbypisces @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor

#azriel acotar #nesta acotar #feyre acotar #acotar #rhys acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris acotar #eris vanserra #pro elain #elain acotar #cassian acotar #eris fluff #vanserra brothers #high lord eris #autumn #autumn court #jar of wind #azriel x reader

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twst-drabbles · 6 months ago

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Epel and Vil 4

Summary: Vil was trying to keep Epel away from Ace and Deuce. He hisses, smacks one of them, and get punished with nutritious, but bland, bird food for dinner.

(Silly house pet times with Vil being a shitty bird and Epel fuming and is probably ready to explode into wooden bits.)

Vil wasn’t really as chirpy of a siren as he could be. You’ve heard stories of sirens screeching well into the night in bathrooms just to hear something that isn’t silence. But, Vil was a pet that places high value in his voice, only letting a select few hear it.

You’re used to his indignant noises. His angry trills and clicks were something you found entertainment in, but when you heard his very, very light coos of affection, you had to stuff down the smile because if you were too open about it, Vil would go back to his haughty self. There aren’t any camera’s here, bird buddy. There’s no image to keep.

That being said, you’ve never heard Vil hiss at anything before, at least not with this intensity.

“Vil? Something wrong?” You poked your head out from the kitchen, “Did Grim crawl in he–oh.”

Hanging from his talon, way up on his specially crafted perch, was Epel who was trying to twist himself out. One of the little plant nymphs, Deuce, was struggling to climb up the perch but it was so perfectly polished that he just slide back down. The other plant nymph, Ace, managed to get all the way up.

He stood on the pole and even did a mock flex from a wrestling commercial he watched once. Proud little critter.

Vil stretched himself over Ace, looked at him from all sorts of angles, before his eyes narrowed and he hissed again. Ace shrank into himself and, unfortunately, was unable to dodge Vil’s sharp wing slap. He was flung right into the couch cushions.

“Vil!” You clapped your hands. Deuce and Epel froze in shock, but Vil only tilted his towards you, eyes narrowed in clear annoyance. “What are you doing?”

Vil huffed, ruffled his feathers back into place before hopping up to the higher rungs of his tree-like perch. Epel protested in the only way he knew how, by squeaking and almost straight up yowling. Vil reached the highest point then dumped Epel into a little circle of branches.

Epel hissed into the sky, but Vil got right up into his face and hissed right back. Epel had no choice but to cross his arms and glare into the ground.

Deuce was halfway up the pole again as you crossed the room. Ace was off the couch and ready to climb upwards again.

“Vil.”

…

“Vil, look at me.”

Vil turned to you but had a wing covering his nose, as if your very presence was gross to him.

“Don’t go smacking my pets,” you kept your voice low and steady, “and keep the attitude down. I thought we’ve been through this.”

You grasped Epel, who practically hopped into your hand, then felt a heavy smack on your wrist.

“…”

You turned to Vil. The siren slowly retreated his wing, eyes narrowed and feathers ruffled in clear challenge.

“You’re getting the bird pellets for dinner.”

Vil’s eyes practically bulged out of his head with the force of his muffled, indignant squawk.

Whistle!

Ace and Deuce jumped on your arm, both whistling in victory. The rushed to your hand, lifted Epel right over their heads–who also lifted his arms in victory–and jumped right out the open window.

Vil took a deep breath in and was angling his body to fly out, but you closed and locked the window.

“…what?” You raised an eyebrow.

Vil’s eye twitched. He drew in more and more air, puffing up his chest and feathers, ready to let out the screech of his life, before he deflated. All anger practically left him and all that was left was a tired bird coming down from an emotional high.

He looked through the glass, catching glimpses of Ace, Deuce and Epel going through the mud puddle they made. He turned his head away with a huff, as if suddenly this situation was beneath him to get involved in.

“Good bird.”

Hmm!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #pomefiore #vil #vil schoenheit #epel #epel felmier #house pet au #reader insert

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 1 year ago

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Imagine Shanks finding out you're a painter

You: *humming along to some music as you apply a fresh coat of paint to the wall of the galley*

Benn and Lucky Roux: *walk in*

Benn: Hey Kid.

You: Hey

Lucky Roux: Did you make sure to use the mold resistant paint?

You: Yes Roux.

Benn: And you applied the sealant before the paint?

You: *nods your head* And the primer, I got this man, thanks for checking in on me.

Benn: Alright then, I'm just gonna open this here winder to get some fresh air in here, so you don't get high off the paint fumes.

You: aww, but that's the best part.

Lucky Roux: *snorts* Let me know when you're done, so I can start dinner. Also, when you are done, you might want to put up a barrier, so none of the others accidentally lean on it.

You: I enjoy seeing them covered in paint. So I think they're gonna be in for a surprise, or at least the boss will be. Because I bet you a thousand berry that he's definitely gonna lean in the paint.

Lucky Roux: I'll take that bet.

Benn: I ain't, because he'll definitely gonna do it.

The next morning

Shanks: *Still annoyed that he got paint in his hair the night before* is this shit finally dry?

Benn: yeah, the kid didn't paint in straight lines though.

Shanks: what! But they're usually so meticulous about doing tasks perfectly.

Benn: it was on purpose too, take a close look.

Shanks: *leans in and glides his fingers across a floral design in the brush strokes* do you think they like painting?

Benn: I believe so, that, or they inhaled too much paint fumes and decided to have fun with it.

Shanks: both are possible... Didn't they repaint the hallway, and bathrooms?

Benn: yeah? They painted patterns there too.

Weeks later

Shanks: Hey (y/n) I got you something! *Presents you with a colorful variety of house paints, and a bunch of supplies*

You: ... Wow, that's a lot of paint, are you wanting me to repaint every room on the ship?

Shanks: no silly, for you to have fun with. We noticed the patterns you painted in the galley and thought you might like more colors.

You: but where would I paint?

Shanks: where ever you'd like.

You: *Kisses him on the cheek, scoops up the supplies, and runs to your room*, Thank you!

Two days later in the galley

You: I finished my room is it okay if I paint this wall now?

Shanks: Go for it.

Benn: *watches you run off* they painted their whole room you know.

Shanks: I saw, I was impressed they managed to paint such steady line work with the ship moving so much.

Benn: I think the little maze design the pained on their door frame was my favorite. Do you think they take requests?

Shanks: I dunno.

You: *pushes the box of supplies onto one of the tables*

Benn: is it okay if I asked you to paint something?

You: sure!

Yassop: Wait, you take requests! I want the pillar in my room painted.

The crew: *crowd around you listing off the things they want painted*

Shanks: Guys, let em breathe for fuck's sake! Make a list so they can start painting.

Lucky Roux: I ain't writing down my request because it's simple, don't paint any more realistic bug on the damn walls. I nearly shit myself when I saw the cockroach you painted in the bathroom, that was not a fun surprise at three in the morning.

You: only termite holes, got it.

Lucky Roux: (y/n) no! No termite holes.

You: fine fine, although the fact that the paint on that cockroach didn't even get to dry before one of y'all smacked it, is hilarious.

Shanks: no more realistic bugs, dear, in fact avoid painting realistic critters all together please.

You: ugh fine.

Shanks: I have a project I'd like you to paint, but I'll need to get you a canvas for it. *Winks at you and wiggles his eyebrows*

Benn: Gross.... if he's getting a nude I want one too.

Shanks: You want my nudes too?

Benn: I want a nude of myself, ding-dong.

List of Up-and-coming works

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#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #shanks #red hair shanks #shanks x reader #benn beckman #yassop #lucky roux #lucky roo #red hair pirates #red haired pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #9/23/23 #no beta we die like men

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velvetcloxds · 3 months ago

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HEAVEN CAN WAIT | A.H.

pairing: groundskeeper!aaron x heiress!reader

word count: 1.5k words

warning: nothing? you simply have to listen to heaven can wait by dean martin as homework

summary: in a form of contained rebellion, you move to a little cottage on a farm in the middle of nowhere to be alone, well alone with the handsome groundskeeper you agreed to keep around to chase the critters away

Dinner was plain but tasteful, a simple recipe you'd found in the old cooking book Aaron found while cleaning the place before you moved in. The silence was beginning to get more bearable during dinner, soft smiles and quick glances filling the time between forks scraping against plates and talkative cows rebelling against the moon. Aaron was getting more comfortable spending time in the main house with you instead of retreating to his cabin at night. Despite your days being everything you'd dreamt of, the picture of peace, nights were still a challenge. The idea of having no company besides your own thoughts and the occasional wandering donkey strolling by was still something to get used to. You'd been finding reasons to have him over at night, a creaking floor, a window that wouldn't close, really whatever you'd discovered during the day- though soon enough late dinners seemed an easier offer than handy work at midnight.

"Do you think it's getting better?" you dared, being adventurous between a bite of pasta, it startled him despite the delicate delivery, his mouth full and bread roll still caught between his teeth- you smiled shyly. "My cooking," you explained and he had some time to think about it as he chewed.

"It's never been too bad," he offered and you had to admit, it was an exciting prospect, having a proper conversation with him.

"Really?" he hummed as an answer, focusing back on his plate, eyes robbed from your view. He really wasn't one for needless pleasantries.

You weren't sure where your father found him, though everything you knew about him was partly fabricated by imaginative daydreaming, you felt drawn to him like no one ever before. He was kind, in ways you weren't used to men being kind, gentle in ways that belonged to novels. You wanted to know all that there is to him, though mystery has its appeals, it was odd being so consumed by thoughts of someone who was still mostly a stranger. You'd thought it merely loneliness, disconnection from the world, too much time spent reading the vintage novels of buried authors that had a way of painting pictures too soft and romantic.

For a while, you'd found yourself comparing him to the likes of Franz Kafka, though seemingly not as disturbed, definitely as morbidly unwilling to see the interest of his own character, the romance of his budding presence. Maybe even the lyricism of Chet Baker, equal parts devotion as melancholy. He was handsome, more so on the colder days when he'd be in too much of a rush to rid the chiseled features of his face of the stubble climbing past his lips. When he'd wrap himself in a thick turtle neck sweater, granting you freedom from being distracted by the flow of his neck to his shoulders, much like the smooth melodies, the soft harmonies of wordlessness of Ella Fitzgerald. You couldn't understand, how you'd allowed yourself such pleasantries of thinking, such poetic comparisons when you were sure he'd not considered the same.

"Fall is starting soon," he spoke over his glass of wine, and with his scarf discarded when he sat down you found a moment of curiosity with the veins in his neck, the movement of his adam's apple. "I imagine you'd want me to come over sooner in the afternoon?" you lifted a brow, momentarily wondering about the request and then looking towards the door, the wind not agreeing with the aged wood, the sound something awful as you attempted to look back at Aaron who offered you something like a smirk when you did.

"What?" you breathed, tugged at the loose cardigan around your shoulders, now very much aware of the wind and the trees brushing against the window and the tiles you now regretted embracing with bare feet.

"The sun sets earlier this time of the year," he explained with foreign casualty, the small kitchen table making it easy for him to reach over and take your empty plate, and you stole a second to settle when he brushed past your should on his way to the sink. "The wind makes the power unstable, but I have candles to spare since you're uncomfortable with the dark and I'd bring over some wood for a fire since you get cold so easily."

You'd be embarrassed if you weren't so enlightened, in awe by his prolific insights into your being, it made you wonder perhaps if he was just as curious about you as you were about him. Though your father had to give him at least somewhat of a background regarding why you'd settled here, you wondered if he had to creatively fill the blank pages too.

"I'd have to learn to make soup, or stew at least," you decided not to take note of his observations, standing instead to take the empty pot and half-full bottle of wine from the table. "If I remember correctly you mentioned something about being able to make bread," he scoffed, a familiar sound, more so than his voice, when he spoke it never seemed to sound the same, always tinted with whatever he was doing or feeling, you'd speak to him so scarcely that every time felt like a different person.

"Sourdough," of course, he'd brought you some in the first week you'd moved here when you weren't as comfortable with the recipe book yet. "It would be perfect with your stew," he didn't see your shy smile, it had been swallowed by the time you went to stand next to him, fingers burning at the accidental contact when he took the pot from you to wash it as well.

You'd turned the record player on earlier, a gift from your mother, a set of records from the sixties to go with it, you'd turned on the first one that you found, it tended to get lost around Aaron, the volume of his presence something deafening despite his silence. Now, however, it felt too loud, transportive in its harmonies of love and longing and time frozen somewhere in a notebook full of souls and lyrics. It drifted through the cold stone cottage like leaves would move with a breeze and hummed through your nerves like poetry had been written into your veins in simple seconds. Forced you to savour it before it ended and though Aaron's hands were still busy in the sink you stole a glance to see him lost in thought, eyes glazed in memory maybe, a fantasy and you felt like you knew everything there is to know in that second.

Desires was like something written by Maya Angelou, completely consuming, too much dept to mention them out loud but you realized the reason Aaron was such an anomaly to you was because of the desire your heart had hidden in simple out-of-reach visions. His arms wrapped around you in a laughably uncharacteristic way, hands sprawled out over the wrinkles in your sundress, daringly close to the strings that hold it together. Eyes closed, conscious dreaming as his voice drawls lowly by your ear, lips brushing your skin, shivers up your spine, airless like you were floating about the room instead of moving ever so slowly to the music. There was a numbness to his touch, phantom, as if your body wasn't yours, as if his fingers weren't real. You wondered if it could last forever, how long the song would play, when the record would stop, you wondered if reality was really worth all of that if a second of hallucinatory bliss could spread through your body like fire, burning through every muscle.

"Would you like to stay?" you cleared your throat, voice unsteady somehow and you weren't sure what you were hoping for, truly you'd experience much more of heaven in your head, in the pages of your journal. "The cake is still too hot for me to decorate it."

"I could stay," he agreed and you truly used every ounce of willpower not to look as he dried his hands, a soft smile, an unfamiliar promise as you caught the briefest glance at your lips, up your face, back to the wall. "I've been meaning to fix your bookshelf for all the new novels you found at the market," you wanted to object, to suggest that he didn't have to work, and could just stay for a while, but he was walking off into your room already. About halfway through your mumbled musings while folding the tablecloth and napkins, he stuck his head out from the hall. "Why don't you restart the record before you come this side," you only had it in you to nod with a smile, hoping it didn't seem too eager, too hopeful. You did as he asked and with a little twirl, you grabbed your book from the coffee table to go watch him work.

Heaven can wait.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotcher #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #ssa aaron hotchner

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featherandferns · 2 years ago

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slipping (fic)

jj maybank x fem!barry's sister!reader | the reader is canonically adopted so all my POC lovelies aren't left out!

content warning: drinking; brief mentions of drug abuse and suicide; sexual content (p in v, oral, hand-stuff)

word count: 18k.

blurb: you and JJ have been in a secret relationship for seven months. And it's great. It's perfect. It's just what JJ's always wanted. Except, you don't want to be a secret forever, and JJ can't risk you finding out his history with Barry.

Barry’s house looks like a crack den. To be frank, the word ‘house’ is rather generous. It’s a run-down trailer which looks half-abandoned: surrounded by ditched appliances (like busted washing machines that people had driven out to the farthest stretch of the marsh rather than making the trip to the rubbish tip); overgrown grass and unkept shrubs; a car that no longer runs, pawned off for the valuable parts, now claimed by nature as roots grow within. The only sign that there’s life at this place - outside of the rats and critters and birds - is the tire-tracked make-shift driveway along the grass, so deep that it’s clearly well used.

JJ parked his bike near the road, hidden in the trees of the marsh. His heavy boots sink into the grass - damp from the rainfall last night - and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he works his way up the drive. He knows he’s being somewhat brazen about the whole thing, heading up to the house in clear view, but he has good reason to. As he gets nearer, rounding to face the netted porch, he feels his smile beginning to show.

“Hey,” he calls.

You look from the motor you’re tinkering with. Smile pretty like the first sunrise of the year.

“Hey,” you say.

JJ steps up the three stairs in two steps. Leans against the frame of the porch.

“You here to pick up for your dad?” you ask. You’re wiping your hands on a rag that’s tucked into your short’s pocket.

“Not quite,” JJ says, watching as you stand. “Your brother home?”

“Who? Barry?” you wonder, playing dumb.

JJ rolls his eyes and smiles wider. “That one, yeah.”

“Nah,” you say casually, sauntering towards him, hands tucked into the back pockets of your shorts. “He’s running an errand.”

“Damn. Guess I came at the perfect time,” JJ plays along.

“Almost like someone tipped you off,” you reply.

You’re standing in front of him now, a little shorter than him. He can’t keep his hands to himself any longer. Hooking one around your waist, JJ leans down to press his lips to yours. The abruptness makes you giggle against his mouth and it keens him on. One of your hands lifts to stroke at his face; your fingers gently tracing over his stubble that’s coming through since the last shave. Pulling back, you smile up at him. That sweet, soft smile that he’s privy to.

“Thought you weren’t gonna get here ‘til later,” you quietly say. He notices that your eyes keep flitting down to his lips, half-distracted.

“Missed my girl.”

“Your girl?” you echo, quirking a brow.

JJ doesn’t reply outside of a shrug. You chuckle, blinking up into his eyes. He feels like he could drown in yours. Bathe in the endlessness of them.

Your arms loop around his neck, tugging him down nearer to your face. JJ lets his hands rest on your hips a moment before swooping down to find home just under your shorts. His fingers tease under the denim, tracing the soft skin of your backside.

“You gonna take care of your girl or what, then?”

“Impatient, huh?” JJ chuckles. He cuts off his own laugh by pressing his mouth to yours once more.

You mould against him as if the two of you were made to be together. Follow the tilt of his head with yours as he deepens the kiss. Lusciously tease your tongue against his, pulling back enough to have him chasing your mouth. If he could – if there weren’t too high a risk with him doing so – he’d take you right here on the porch. Bend you over the abandoned entryway table or have you atop of him on the couch. But inside is better and safer, so he lets you guide him in, fingers dancing through yours as you flash a smile at him over your shoulder.

He can remember a time you used to be embarrassed of the interior of your house. JJ knew rough living – his dad was far from house proud – but Barry’s place was a different level. The stove didn’t work and the door hung forever open, broken on the hinges. Half the cupboards didn’t shut right and roaches were so frequent they may as well pay rent. But he never judged and never commented. Especially now, as you pull the two of you into your bedroom, pushing him against the wall with that contagious laugh of yours that makes him smile.

“Was thinking ‘bout you this morning,” you tell him. Your hands are working at the fly of his shorts.

“What about?”

He’s watching the nimbleness of your fingers as you pull down his zip. Has him grinning, body tingling at the thought and the excitement. Being wrapped up in you is like opium: euphoric and addictive.

“Just how good you fucked me last time,” you casually sigh.

JJ gasps through his brimming grin when you shove a hand into his boxers, rubbing at his semi. The way you look up at him, innocence faked on your expression like butter couldn’t melt in your mouth…it’s a deadly trap.

“I got a little impatient waiting. Had to take care of myself this morning. All alone,” you go on, coiling a hand around his neck to coax his mouth nearer to yours.

Your hand is still working at him, pulling him out of his boxers now, and JJ stammers a moan against your grinning lips as you squeeze gently around the head.

“Guess I gotta make it up to you then,” he somehow manages.

“Guess you gotta.”

Moving to kiss him again, you move your hand faster. Take a moment to spit on your palm, to help it slide easier. JJ lets his hands roam your clothed body (why are you still dressed?) and settles on palming at your breast under your t-shirt, touch half-restricted by your bralette. As he feels himself edging, he groans against your mouth, breaking the messy kiss.

“’M close,” he sighs, eyes slipping shut.

The way your spare hand caresses his jaw is a stark juxtaposition to what you’re doing to him, under the belt. It reminds JJ that it’s you – familiar, perfect, wonderful you – and that only drives him closer. Has him moaning out, unashamed for you to hear the sounds he makes. Only for you.

“We got time,” is all you say, voice quiet like it’s a secret, and JJ knows that he can let go.

We got time for more.

He comes with a shudder, groaning against your mouth, eyes clamped shut as he pumps himself in your closed fist, chasing the pleasure. You kiss him through his orgasm, trailing them along his cheekbone and eyelids. He chuckles as he comes down, opening his eyes to take in the mess on your shorts.

“Fuck. Sorry,” JJ mumbles.

You shake your head. “They needed a wash anyway.”

The two of you laugh, prompting his eyes to meet yours once more. You’re smiling at him, leaning forward to kiss him again, like a diver coming back for air, over and over. JJ’s impatient now. Tugs your tee-shirt over your head and shucks down your shorts and panties, following them to the floor as he lowers onto his knees. Your skin smells like rose and bergamot from your lotion. The smell screams of you and makes him smile against your skin, leaning his face softly against your thigh as he presses kisses, teething gently at the skin. You sigh out a moan above him, leaning your hands on the wall for support. JJ eases your legs open wider, mumbling playful demands under breath that have you lustfully giggling. Then he’s going at you, eating you out like a man starved for dinner, and the sounds you make are fucking heavenly. Gasping out his name, your moans are cutting into each other like there’s two sides of your brain competing. He’s only motivated more, lifting higher onto his knees, moving a hand around to roughly grasp at your cheek, manhandling you to appease his hunger. Fingers dig deep into the flesh. He could quite gladly die here, JJ thinks, as he goes down on you. Sinfully sweet and salty on his tongue, like a forbidden fruit. The tell-tale squeak in your voice is his signal that you’re close, but JJ doesn’t want you to come yet. Not yet.

He pulls away with a breath. You whine in protest, one hand even trying to shove his face back on you.

“JJ…”

He can’t help but laugh. Teasing and dark. He gets to his feet.

Your hands are shaky as they cup at his face, pulling his lips to yours. JJ pulls you off him, forces you so your chest is against the wall. The hastiness has you panting. All of your snarky quips are gone, lost to his mouth and tongue. Shoving his boxers down and pulling off his shirt, JJ grabs one of your hands in his, holding it against the wall, fingers interlocked. He’s already hard again, guiding himself to your entrance, forcing your legs apart wider once more with a foot against yours. Eases in with a groan, collapsing his head against your shoulder, fixated on your wanton moan.

JJ fucks you good and hard. He knows how you like it and what you want. His finger slips down to your clit, rubbing fervently, and you whine against the peeling wallpaper of your bedroom walls. His other hand never leaves yours. Squeezing at your interlocked fingers lovingly, strikingly different from the painful pace he’s set.

“Feel so fucking good,” he pants against your clammy skin. Your only reply is a whine. “You getting close, baby?”

“Fuck, yes,” you shiver.

It spurs him on. Makes you louder. It’s obscene and filthy and…And it’s over too soon.

You collapse against the wall when you come, voice so loud he’s only half-worried it might carry across the marsh. JJ shifts his hand away from your bruised clit to help hold you up. It’s like your limbs have turned to jelly. You let JJ use you to find his own relief, groaning against your clammy back as he finishes inside you and thank Christ for the pill. Through the euphoric haze, he half registers your fingers teasing softly at his hair, soothing him through it.

Breathing heavy, he lifts his head to find yours glancing over your shoulder, eyes watching him. You’re veering for a kiss and JJ gladly indulges.

“Jesus fuck,” JJ dozily mumbles against your swollen mouth.

“Language,” you reply with a small, breathless laugh.

The two of you can’t help but groan as he slides out. You wiggle your fingers against the wall.

“My hand’s going dead, JayJ,” you mumble, almost apologetic.

He lets go. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle.

Turning around, back now against the wall, you loop your arms around his bare chest and lean against him, the way a sloth might wrap itself around a tree. JJ sniggers, brushing a hand through your hair. He feels you press a tender kiss to his chest that’s still struggling to catch breath.

“You tired, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “You came at the perfect time. I was like one minute away from throwing that motor out into the marsh.”

JJ quietly grunts as he lifts you up – your legs hooking loosely around his waist – and he walks the two of you back to your bed. The pair of you cuddle up atop of the sheets, letting the few rays of sunlight that leak into the room warm strips of your skin. He finds himself drawing mindless patterns on the skin of your thigh, and you appear to be doing the same on his chest.

“Who you fixing it up for? The motor?”

“You know Mr Lewis?”

“Is that the guy who works at the deli?” JJ checks.

“Mhm. It’s from the delivery van. I told him I’d have it done by Thursday,” you reply, yawning. It’s currently Tuesday.

JJ forgets sometimes that you’re a high school dropout. You’re smart enough to graduate. Easily smarter than him. One time, when he was losing his mind over some algebra homework that his teacher insisted he do (that was, if he wanted to skip out on retaking a year), you had taken the time to explain it to him. The way you laid it out was so simple and easy, like reciting the alphabet or counting to ten. But whenever he asked why you dropped out you would just reel off the usual self-deprecating excuse. That people from your family don’t get high school diplomas - it just wasn’t a thing.

“How’s school?” you ask as if you’d been following his line of thought.

“Boring,” JJ sighs. “Bit more fun now that John B’s back though.”

“Still can’t believe they survived,” you say. Then, shifting to meet his gaze, you add, “not in a bad way, just-”

“No, no, I know what you mean,” he eases. One of his fingers comes to tease at a strand of your hair, smiling down at you. “I mean, I wouldn’t believe it either. Hell, I didn’t, for a while.”

You chuckle at that, nodding, lowering your head back down onto his chest.

This is good. This is good for JJ and good for you. Not only is it good, but it’s fun. A secret is fun. Nobody else knows: not even the Pogues or your brother. These clandestine meetings and rendezvous and unknown dates are the definition of excitement. Nobody knows that JJ spends nearly every night buried in you, and that the unsaved number on his phone is filled with sweet, soft and sometimes sensual texts that came from you. Inside jokes than have accumulated over the seven months of your relationship. Nobody knows that JJ knows Barry’s younger sister as more than just that flippant title. That he knows your favourite television show and your favourite singer, and he knows the way to twist his fingers just right to have you bordering on screaming. He knows what it feels like to have your mouth on him and your teeth biting down onto the skin of his shoulders, but also what it feels like to make you laugh and to see you work. What it feels like to be at the mercy of your stare. He’s lucky enough to be in your light and be acknowledged by someone so strangely pure for all the shit the universe had thrown your way. If JJ got dealt a bad hand, then you got dealt fake cards. But all the darkness and grit hadn’t made you mean or distant. Instead, it made you glow, like tossing logs into an open flame.

“Wish I could meet him.”

“Who?” JJ asks. He’s lost in thought, eyes staring up at your ceiling. There’s a patch of mould in the corner that you’ve tried to conceal with some cheap, fake ivy vines.

“The president.”

“Really?”

You snort. “No, you moron. John B.”

JJ’s attention comes back to the conversation. He swallows, somewhat nervous. He hates when you bring this stuff up.

“I mean, you have met him.”

“Sure, like I’ve spoken to him at a kegger like…Two years ago?”

“He’s really not that interesting of a guy so,” JJ lamely says.

“Not that interesting? JJ, John B was a wanted fugitive who lived in Nassau with Sarah for like a month or something? Come on!” you reply with a laugh.

He closes his eyes at the sound. You sound so light and cheerful. He just knows whatever he replies with is going to crush it, like treading on a freshly blossomed flower. Why did you have to bring this up?

JJ shifts so he can slip out of your hold. You move to sit, legs half crossed, and he can feel your eyes watching him as he leans to your bedside table for the box of cigarettes you keep there.

“It doesn’t have to be soon,” you quietly say to his back.

He retrieves a cig and slots it between his lips, reaching for the lighter. He’d engraved your initials in it the same way he had ‘JJ’ engraved on his own. Please, please drop it.

“Just…Maybe sometime this month?”

“They’re not very interesting people,” JJ manages out, voice muffled by the cigarette as he flicks at the lighter. He hopes it’ll discourage whatever interest you have in meeting his friends. Hopes his voice sounds casual. “We don’t do much, either. Just sit around and surf and stuff.”

“Well, same,” you eventually reply, happiness already dwindling. “So, I guess I have that in common with them.”

JJ leans against the creaky headboard of your bed and takes a puff of the cigarette. He looks down at the lighter as he fiddles with it in one hand. It seems you won’t let the topic go (not that he expected you to, if he’s being honest with himself). You grab at his attention by taking the cigarette from him, having a drag yourself. He watches as you exhale, smoke filling the space before you as you sit, naked and sweet. Holding it out to him, your smile is now gone. Instead, there’s this shadow of anxiety looming over your features.

“We’re together, right?”

JJ takes the cigarette back. “Yeah?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“An answer,” JJ clarifies. Then, “Yes, we’re together.”

“And we have been for seven months now, right?”

JJ takes another pull, looking away from you and to the doorway. “I mean, I don’t know the exact length of—”

“We have,” you interrupt, firmly. “Seven months, one week and two days.”

Crap.

“Didn’t know we were keeping score,” JJ nervously chuckles, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat.

But when he looks to you again, you’re not smiling. You’re shaking your head.

“I don’t want to be a secret forever, JJ,” you say. “I understand why you wanted to keep it quiet at first. I mean, I did too. Whilst we figured it all out and what this actually is.”

As you speak, you gesture between the two of you.

“But…I’m tired of sneaking around, JayJ. Of lying to my friends and my brother. Of not being able to talk about you to them. Because…Well, because I want to,” you meekly admit, shrugging. “I want to kiss you when everyone’s watching, as fucking dumb as that sounds, and I wantpeople to know that you’re taken, and that you’re taken by me.”

It takes everything in JJ not to wince at that. He swallows down your words with an inhale of the nicotine. Doesn’t hold your gaze because how can he? He knew his lie would catch up to him eventually. JJ has a bad habit of spinning these fables as if he won’t get tangled in the mess of it. Hell, his bad habit to run his mouth is the reason why JJ can’t let you two come out to anybody, not even the Pogues. If even one person knows about the pair of you, then Barry will find out. It’s inevitable. The Outer Banks is a small place and news travels fast. The moment Barry finds out is the moment you find out what he did. It’ll be the moment he’ll lose you, forever. And that fear – that genuine risk – is far worse than having to sneak around, in JJ’s world.

“Hey.”

Your fingers brush against his, coaxing his hand into yours, intertwining the digits until you’re holding hands. He looks up at that, looks into your eyes. You’re smiling again, soft but solemn, like you’ve read some mellowing news.

“I don’t wanna rush you, okay? I just…I need to know that eventually, we won’t be a secret anymore,” you say quietly.

JJ smiles at you – the best smile he can manage – and nods. Lifts your interlocked hands to his tobacco tasting lips, pressing a kiss against the skin. Rose and bergamot.

“We won’t be,” JJ tells you. Nods, affirming it. Almost willing it into reality. “We won’t be, alright? Just a little more time.”

When you smile, he swears he feels his heartbeat ease. JJ’s thankful that you kiss him, because he can’t keep looking you in the eyes and act like it doesn’t kill a part of him to lie, straight to your face.

~*~*~*~*~*

U lol

JJ can’t help but smile at the meme you’ve sent him. It’s so stupid, hardly even a joke, but somehow it taps into his sense of humour perfectly. JJ sniggers as he replies.

“What you smiling at?” John B wonders.

JJ looks up from his phone. Instinctively turns it off before anyone can catch a glimpse of the screen.

“Just this thing,” JJ shrugs.

Kiara’s plucking the strings of her ukelele, lounging in the hammock that JJ nearly fought her for. He’s taken one of the deckchair loungers instead. Pope’s sat by the tree. He’s flicking through local history books, trying to see if there might be any clues in there about the island room. JJ thinks it’s a lost cause but got shut down the moment he started to say so. John B is still brooding from his break-up with Sarah. At least the boy wants to drink – now that’s something JJ’s glad to get on board with.

“You’ve been texting someone for the past half hour,” John B says.

“You stalking me or something?”

“It’s hard not to notice when you keep giggling like a girl at your phone.”

“Since when do I giggle?” JJ counters.

“Since today,” John B quickly replies. Then, he pulls out his phone and gives an award-winning impersonation. JJ gladly flips him off.

“I think our little playboy is whipped,” Kiara says from the hammock.

“I’m not whipped,” JJ says.

“But you are talking to someone?” she checks.

JJ rolls his eyes. He hates the grilling. Wishes they’d all back off. Despite his lack of an answer, it seems to be more than enough for Kie.

“Who is she?”

“Nobody. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” JJ says.

“Those are two different answers, man,” John B tells him.

“I thought JB was bad at lying but that might’ve been your worst,” Pope indirectly agrees, not looking up from his book.

“Look, the important thing right now is getting John B macking on someone else, alright?” JJ redirects, pointing to his best friend. “The fastest way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, I’m telling ya.”

“Spoken like a poet,” Kie comments.

“I’m not interested in anyone else, JJ,” John B says. “Sides, even if I wanted to hook up with someone else – which I don’t - who the hell would it be?”

“Bro, I’m telling you, that chick in English is totally into you,” JJ says. “Like she’s practically drooling at her desk whenever she looks at you.”

“Is she now?”

“Yeah, man. I’ve got eyes, don’t I?”

“Debatable,” John B mutters, looking back to his phone.

JJ feels himself relax back in his chair again.

After the conversation the two of you shared the other night, JJ’s feels haunted. The way that you kissed him, all happy and sweet, when he’d just lied to your face…Kie would tell him that karma was waiting at the ready. That is, she would if she knew about it. JJ didn’t like lying to you. If he could, he’d go back in time and he’d leave the house and the money like the rest of the Pogues said he should. He’d do the right thing for once his sorry life.

Sighing, JJ rocks his head backwards and glances absentmindedly to the hammock. He’s a little surprised to see that Kie’s already looking at him. She’s watching him, practically studying him, and has this expression on her face that makes JJ swallow nervously.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. Looks back down to her ukelele.

JJ watches her a moment longer before finally looking away. It takes a liar to know one.

~*~*~*~*~*

The tide’s come in.

There’s barely any beach left and it’s pushed you back to the sand dunes. JJ cusses as he spots you, sat with your knees near your chest, staring out to the water like something from a poem.

“Hey! I’m here! I’m here!” he hollers, jogging over.

You turn around at the sound of his voice. No smile. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know,” he says, coming to a stop before you. “I’m sorry, alright? This thing, with the Pogues, it just ran over but—”

“And you didn’t think to text me?” you sigh, holding up your phone. “I mean, my legs are bitten to hell now by the skeeters.”

“I’m sorry,” JJ repeats, dropping to sit beside you. You shake your head, looking away, but don’t move your hand from his when he reaches for it. “I should’ve made up an excuse or something to leave early.”

“Or you should’ve just told them the actual reason why you needed to leave,” you mumble, ticked off.

JJ sighs and leans over, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. It prompts you to look to him. Your lips are still pressed in an unimpressed frown. He gazes into your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” JJ tells you once more, sincere and genuine.

You deliberate it over with a small sigh, rubbing your lips together in thought. Eyes scan his face and his features.

“Okay,” you relent. A twitch in your cheeks, teasing for a smile. “You’re off the hook. Don’t do it again, though.”

JJ nods, smiling too. “I won’t. I won’t, alright?”

“Okay,” you smile, properly. He kisses you, making you chuckle through your nose.

“You look cute, by the way. I like this,” he says, thumbing at the fabric of your top.

“Thanks,” you say. “If you weren’t late maybe I’d tell you that I like your shorts.”

“I thought that I was off the hook!” JJ loudly returns, making you laugh.

He grins at that. He likes when you laugh, and even better when he’s the cause of it. It makes your eyes go all crinkly and cute.

“Not all the way,” you playfully reply. “What were you guys caught up with, anyway?”

JJ shrugs and leans back on his elbows. The sunset looks pretty from here, over the horizon. It shines a tapestry of colours on your legs.

“Nothing important.”

Nothing important, asides from trying to figure out what the hell an island room might be.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?”

JJ’s head darts round to you with that, but you’re grinning at him, dispelling his worry that you’re onto him. There’s a smudge of oil near your eye from the latest handy-man job you’ve taken on. He licks his thumb and moves to wipe it away, smiling when you cringe.

“Like I would ever lie to you,” he jests as he wipes at your face.

You bat his hand away. “Ah, the thing every girlfriend wants to hear.”

JJ leans in to kiss you, unable to help it as if he’s craving another hit. He’s gently grabbing at your face to draw you closer. He swears he could make-out with you forever and never get bored. Screw food and screw water and screw air. This. This is what livings about. Humming out a moan, JJ eases you onto your back on the sand, hovering atop of you. His lips leave yours to trail delicately down your jawline. He practically purrs when you bring a hand up to play with his hair.

“You know the bonfire’s this Friday?”

“Mhm,” JJ hums against you, half-listening. His senses are flooded by the smell of you: roses and bergamot.

“You busy that night?”

“Don’t know yet,” he says, barely breaking away from the hickey he’s started working on, at the underside of your jaw. One of his hands slips under the pretty top you’re wearing, palming at your breast.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go,” you tell him. Your voice is a little breathless now. “I was wondering if you wanted to come too?”

“As in whether I’m going or…?”

“As in us going together,” you correct.

JJ slowly eases up on his assault on your throat. He closes his eyes, briefly tensing his lips together. Fuck.

“Well, I don’t know if I’m gonna be free that night,” he says, hoping to sound casual.

Your fingers tether in his hair enough to pull him away from your neck. It’s like you force him to meet your gaze.

“Well, if you are free, then do you wanna? I don’t know, I thought it’d be kinda nice? Could meet your friends and stuff, and you could meet mine,” you say, smiling bashfully.

And it’s sweet. It’s so sweet, and thoughtful, and if JJ wasn’t such a fucking idiot, it’d be the perfect way to publicise your relationship. It isn’t that JJ doesn’t want to. He wants to, more than anything. To have your hand in his in front of everyone at school, and to have you dancing with him and drinking with him, and to let everyone know that you’re his as much as he’s yours.

It isn’t that JJ doesn’t want to. It’s that he can’t.

“I, um,” he pulls away, resting back on his haunches. His hand slips out of your top.

You shift up to sit, watch as he looks away, down the beach. There’s nobody else around. The only thing you can hear is the lapping of the waves, the steady crash and break of the tide, and the distant calling of birds.

Clearing his throat, JJ rubs at the back of his neck and fixes his cap.

“I think if I go, it’ll, uh, be with my friends, you know?”

Quiet. Another bird. Another wave.

His heart clenches at the sound of your sigh. It’s heavy with disappointment.

“Yeah. Uh, right. Of course,” you mumble.

“Just cause like, it’s like a tradition that we go together, you know?” JJ tags on, looking to you. “And John B’s proper losing it with this whole Sarah shit-show.”

You’re nodding, lips pursed, staring down at your hands that twiddle together in your lap. You sniff sharply and force your face up to meet his. The smile you flash him is brief and fake. He can see right through it, like you’re made of sea glass.

“No, yeah. It was a dumb idea anyway,” you chuckle dejectedly, shaking your head. JJ frowns.

“No, hey, it wasn’t dumb—”

“—Look, I gotta be heading back soon. Well, now, actually,” you say, moving to stand up.

JJ watches you do for from his spot on the ground. From here, under the light of the setting sun, he can see the sheen to her eyes as if there are tears welling. Fuck.

“Baby, no, you don’t—”

“—No, no, it’s just cause it’s late,” you weakly continue, grabbing for your cardigan. You wrap it round you and glance behind you. “And I told Barry I’d help him with some stuff tonight and…”

By the time JJ’s on his feet, you’re already starting to walk backwards. You flash him another tense, painful smile.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, I’ll…I’ll see you soon, right?”

You nod. Give an awkward wave, in a way you never have with him before. “Yeah. Um, have fun at school tomorrow.”

Then you turn your back to him and walk away.

JJ watches after you, frozen in place like he’s stupefied until you’re out of sight, heading around the bend of a tree. He sighs loudly. He’s mad at himself. Frustrated at the bullshit of the whole situation. Why did he have to steal that money, all those months ago? John B tried to warn him off it but at the time, it just seemed so simple. He didn’t know you then. You were just Barry’s sister: a name in an anecdote, usually revolving about how you dropped out of Kildare High. But now…Now you’re you.

Yanking off his cap, JJ tosses it on the ground, grunting. Rakes his fingers roughly through his hair. He looks out to the water and the dusk-painted sky. Once he’s gathered himself enough to walk home, JJ leans down to collect his cap. He brushes some sand off it and watches how easily it slips away, and how much it resonates with the feeling that you’re slipping through his fingers, too.

~*~*~*~*~*

The bonfire is swarming with people. They stand in crowds and droves, chatting and laughing and heckling one another. Empty bottles and cans lay scattered around, making Kiara sneer and roll her eyes. JJ follows his friends out the van, hooking an arm over John B’s neck. It still feels a little surreal to have him close again and to be able to lean on him whenever. Part of him wonders if he’s still in shock, of having his brother back.

As they walk past Kathy, she’s handing over a red solo cup to John B with a smile. JJ smiles back at her, grins as John B takes a sip, and tries to pretend like his heart isn’t going to beat out of his chest with the anxiety that you might be here tonight. He hasn’t spoken to you since the evening on the beach. Doesn’t really know what to say or where to start, and you haven’t reached out to him either. JJ’s not sure a silence has ever stretched so loud.

John B’s still complaining about the break-up with Sarah. JJ tunes back in and forces his mind away from the incident on the beach. Thinking about it only makes him feel sick.

“So she’s like, ‘that’s it’.”

“I know. I know, I know, but dude, her father blew up right in front of her,” JJ reminds him, moving to stand to his side. “Just give her a minute, alright?”

Ironic, spewing dating advice whilst his own secret relationship is falling apart behind the scenes. But, hey, nobody sees you lose when you’re playing solitaire.

JJ’s eyes catch on to a small pile of cans of larger. Hell yes, he could do with a drink. He swipes a couple of beers and passes one to John B.

“In the meantime, shot gun, right now. Like the old times.”

“Hey derelicts!”

He spins around as an empty cup hits him on the back, coming face to face with the girl that had been eyeing up John B in class.

“Hey! There she is! That’s you,” JJ says, gesturing to John B. He whips out his pocketknife, slicing into the can. “I’m outta here.”

JJ hunches forward a moment when John B jabs him low, making him spill his beer. Turning away, taking a swig, JJ looks around. No sign of you so far. Maybe you didn’t show up. Sighing, he glances down at his phone. No texts, no calls. Nothing. Pocketing it, finishing his beer and already starting on a second that he swipes off a pop-up table, JJ moves to make the most of the night and to get his mind off you.

The drinks continue to flow and the conversations come and go. The warmth from the flames of the fire lap gently at his skin, keeping away any summer night chill. About an hour in or so, he’s leaning against the wall, chatting to Pope and Kiara.

“What I don’t understand is, if Karen’s a computer then how come she still works under water?” JJ says.

“JJ. It’s a show about a living sponge at the bottom of the sea,” Kiara deadpans, raising a brow.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s aiming for realism, dude,” Pope agrees.

JJ shrugs and looks out to the bonfire, absentmindedly scanning the crowds. There’s a nice buzz to him, helping the drinks go down smoothly. “Just always bothered me is all. Like whenever Sandy—”

JJ could recognise you anywhere, even blind. You’re looking at him too. He freezes, beer halfway raised to his mouth.

You look pretty. A pair of shorts – the pair of shorts – and a t-shirt, tucked in. Hair styled all nice, with colourful grips that he can make out, even from over here. There’s a bottle of beer in your hand. At the sight of him, you seem to take a swig. It’s almost like you scoff, but JJ can’t be sure. Then, one of your friends seems to be gathering your attention and you don’t spare another glance to him. Strange, how awful it feels to have you look away from him; to act like you don’t know him from Adam.

“That Barry’s sister?” Kiara asks.

JJ comes back to reality. Looks to his friends to see their eyes on you, too. He takes a swig of his drink, digging in his brain for a new conversation starter to drive the attention away from you. He really doesn’t want to think about all of that right now.

“She the one that dropped out?” Pope checks.

“Yeah. Probably a junkie like her brother,” Kie says.

“She’s not a junkie,” JJ can’t help but defend.

She frowns at him. “How’d you know?”

“Well, cause, like…My dad buys from her brother, right? So, he’s seen her around,” JJ shrugs, cutting himself off with another swig of his drink.

She raises a brow. “And he’s told you that she’s not a junkie? How does that line up?”

“Didn’t you used to have calc with her?” Pope asks Kiara, accidentally saving JJ in the process.

“Yeah. She was actually kinda brainy, too,” Kie replies, glancing back to you.

You’re laughing. JJ’s not sure if he’s imaging the sound or if the noise is carrying.

“I’ve gotta say, didn’t expect someone who looks like Barry to have a sister like that,” Pope mutters.

“Well, she’s adopted, so,” Kie explains simply. It wasn’t a secret, exactly. People just seemed to know that about you. “There used to be three of them: her, Barry and Louis.”

“Louis?”

“The eldest,” Kiara says. “He joined the army too but died in action or something.”

He didn’t die in action. JJ knows that for a fact. He killed himself from the trauma of shooting a man dead-on, leaving a suicide note to explain. He also knows that’s what drove your mom to start abusing pills, becoming hooked on oxy and eventually heroin, until she died with a needle in her arm. He also knows that’s what brought Barry back home, from the army, to take care of you, as a minor, so you didn’t have to go into foster care. Only knows that he did it because it was his mom’s dying wish. He knows that you don’t do drugs, outside of drinking and cigarettes - not even weed. He knows it’s because you’re scared of becoming a junkie like your mom and dying like she did. He knows you didn’t join the army because of what happened to your eldest brother. He knows you prefer to do handy-man jobs instead of following after Barry with the drug-dealing business. That you try to talk Barry out of it almost every day because of all the shit hegets into. Like being involved in fights and helping fugitives and being robbed of twenty-thousand dollars.

JJ finishes his drink in two large gulps.

“I need a refill,” he mutters, crushing the can in his grip.

Pope and Kiara aren’t listening though. He looks up to see they’re now watching something else. He follows their gaze to see a fight breaking out. Squinting through the flicker of the embers, he recognises the flash of blonde hair and the dart of brown. Topper and John B. The trio rush over to help.

It seems the fight with John B and Topper is the warm-up act to the large tiff coming. Before things can get anymore ugly, the Pogues are rushing away from the rowdy crowd, back to the Twinkie. JJ leans against the open window, finishing his beer with a burp.

“Well, that was a little unexpected,” he sardonically quips.

“Was it?” Kie asks from inside the Twinkie.

JJ shrugs, bobbing his head from side to side in deliberation. Then, his eyes catch someone moving in the distance. It’s like you’re a magnetic, always grabbing his attention. Wiping the back of his mouth, gaze still fixed on you as you seemingly mess with your backpack, as if preparing to leave, he deliberates going over. JJ has enough alcohol in him to swallow his pride and do so.

“Hey, I’m gonna be right back,” JJ mumbles, stepping away from the van.

Kiara frowns at him. “What’re you doing?”

“I need to ring it out,” JJ casually lies.

Kie rolls her eyes. The other Pogues are too distracted by discussing the fight to pay too much mind. JJ slips away and follows you out of sight. Then, he quietly calls out your name. You turn around on reflex.

“JJ?”

“Hey, I just…Are you leaving?” he asks, stopping a safe, unnatural distance from you.

Your backpack is slung over your shoulder. You shrug. “Well, you and your friends kind of broke up the party.”

“Topper started that, actually, so,” JJ lamely corrects, gesturing back to the fire.

You roll your eyes. “What do you want, JJ?”

“I wanna talk,” he says, stepping closer. “About what happened at the beach and everything.”

“It’s whatever,” you sigh. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, almost nervously. “It’s in the past now.”

“Is it? Cause we haven’t spoken since and…”

You quirk a brow as JJ trials off. “And?”

“Well,” he sighs, sticks his hands in his pockets. Strange, how after being with you for nearly eight months, it still feels abnormal to be so affectionately open. “Well, I miss you.”

“Wow, what lovely luke-warm sentiment.”

“Look, I’m serious, alright?” JJ says, walking over to you. He grabs for one of your hands and fights to keep it in his hold. You’re obviously reluctant to talk to him but JJ knows you have a weakness for him. That he can sweet talk his way out of anything with you. Part of him feels guilty for it, but the other part is nothing short of relieved. He battles to try and have your gaze meet his. “Where’s your brother tonight?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble.

JJ’s pretty sure you’re lying. He gently cups at your jaw, coaxing you to look up at him. The two of you hold the gaze for a while. There’s a plethora of emotions swimming in your eyes.

Sighing, relenting, you confess, “he’s collecting. Won’t be back until early morning.”

“Like six-ish?”

“More like eight-ish,” you reply.

Leaning down slowly, pressing his forehead against yours, he lets his eyes slip shut. “I’m sorry for being an asshole on the beach, okay?"

Nothing. Then,

"Asshole’s a strong word.”

JJ smiles. If you’re cracking jokes in his favour, then you’re warming back up to him already. The spool isn’t too far unwound to be past the point of repair.

“I have to go deal with John B, but can I come by afterwards? Make it up to you?”

“There’s a lot of making up you have to do,” you tell him.

JJ grins. “Well, we’ve got a lot of time to get it done.”

His smile dwindles only slightly when you pull your face away from his. He opens his eyes into yours. You’re gnawing on your lower lip, deliberating.

“You hurt me, JJ,” you whisper.

He looks down. Nods and purses his lips. Hearing you say something like that to him feels akin to you hurling a well-deserved insult.

“Don’t do it again, alright?”

“Okay,” he nods. At the squeeze of your hand in his, he finds himself looking back up, meeting your gaze. He nods again, firmer. “I won’t.”

“Okay,” you nod back. There’s a hint of a smile peaking through again, like rays of sunshine breaking through clouds on an overcast day.

Kiara hollers JJ’s name from the Twinkie, in the distance. You lean up and press a chaste kiss to his lips. It’s rude how quick it is.

“Come by later.”

JJ nods. Kisses you back, harder, making you chuckle. Then he’s heading back to his friends, sending you one last smile over his shoulder. It feels so secretive as if something taken from Romeo and Juliet; it’s almost exhilarating.

When JJ gets back to the van, Pope is sat behind the wheel, drumming a tune on it. Kiara and John B are talking in the back, the latter holding a cold can against his banging head.

“Where the hell were you, bro?” Kie asks.

“Did you take a dump in the woods?” John B adds.

JJ clambers into the front seat. Pope starts the engine.

“All them cans, man,” he lies, glancing out the window. “We heading back to the chateau?”

“Uh-huh,” Kie affirms. She sounds sceptical, like she’s deep in thought.

JJ doesn’t pay much mind to it. Instead, he nods and hides his smile behind his fist, leaning an arm against the open window frame.

~*~*~*~*~*

Echoing around JJ’s head is the preen of your voice from when you came. Sedated and spent, it almost works well as a lullaby, soothing him as JJ lies on his back on your bed. Your head has found home in the nook beneath his collarbone, tucked under his arm, nestled like a bird on its favourite branch. He leisurely strokes his fingers against the bare skin of your back, drawing patterns, writing incoherent sonnets. You’ve taken to joining his sparse freckles up by an invisible line, traced with your finger. It’s peaceful and perfect, and you’re not mad at him anymore, and JJ feels as though he can breathe right again. He sighs. Stares at the ceiling.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“What the hell am I gonna buy with a penny?”

“Fine. Quarter for your thoughts?”

“Do I get that now or should I request a down-payment.”

“You know what? Forget it,” you huff, amused, nonetheless.

JJ sniggers. Gently presses his fingers into the flesh of your back as an undefined apology.

“What do you wanna know?”

“What you’re thinking about,” you quietly reply.

“I’m thinking about us,” JJ privately returns.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

And he is. Thinking about the way you were crying out his name, tears in your water line that only turned him on more. The way you whined when he roughly grabbed at your hips, pulling you any which way to appease the both of you. He’s still replaying back the crack in your voice when you came around him. After sleeping with you, JJ’s not sure how he can be expected to think of anything else.

“So, I wanted to ask you something,” you say, pulling away from his hold.

JJ’s peaceful threatens to break, like a truck rattling through a country line road. Please don’t let it be about the Pogues again.

“Yeah?”

The two of you naturally shift so you can look eye to eye, bodies now only connected by JJ’s lose hold around your waist and your entangled feet. It takes all his will power not to stare at your exposed chest. Namely, at the love bite he’s left on your clavicle.

“It’s my birthday next week,” you tell him, voice a little reserved, “and I thought we could celebrate together?”

“Oh yeah? I might have a few ideas on how,” JJ slimily jokes. He suggestively squeezes your hip as a smirk grows on his face. You roll your eyes and flush under his stare.

“Well, yes, that, but also…I was thinking a picnic? On the beach, at our usual spot? Just the two of us.”

JJ’s expression softens. He nods. You grin back in reply.

“Yeah?”

“Sounds good, pretty thing,” he says.

You laugh, raking a finger through your hair. “I don’t think I look all pretty like this but—”

“—I think you look the prettiest like this,” JJ grins in disagreement, leaning up to nudge his nose against yours.

Your laugh bounces off his lips.

JJ’s not lying. Seeing you post-sex is like seeing a Greek goddess in the flesh. Better, even. You sit bare for him, no shame in your figure and any of the so-called imperfections it holds. At the thought, JJ suddenly becomes more aware that he’s naked, too. To be so casual about it requires a trust between two people, surely, and JJ’s never been good at trusting. You, however, are trusting from the get-go. Naïve might be a better word, but that implies that you’re dumb and foolish, which you aren’t. You just have this hopefulness that everybody has a goodness to them, somewhere, deep down. Maybe living with Barry and his crowd drives that trait for you. People do bad things but they’re not bad people was the quote JJ knew you lived by.

JJ kisses you, sliding a hand up your thigh, chasing what the two of you had shared only ten or so minutes ago. You don’t seem to complain. You melt into his touch, kiss him back gladly, hook your arms around his shoulders.

“Wednesday. Next week.”

“Mhm,” JJ hums. He guides you to lay down, clambering atop.

“I’m serious. Seven P.M.”

“Yeah, yeah, seven,” he repeats against the flesh of your neck. He starts kissing down your sweat-sheened body.

Sighing, your fingers loops into the strands of his hair, tugging him to look up at you. JJ can’t hold back the quiet groan it elicits. He loves when you do shit like that. He meets your gaze and this might be the best angle he’s ever had of you, looking up from down below, making out your hooded gaze past your breasts. He feels himself harden at the sight.

“Tell me when and where,” you demand.

JJ manages not to roll his eyes. He presses a kiss to your tummy. “Seven P.M.”

A kiss to your abdomen. “Wednesday.”

A kiss to your pelvic bone, that has you exhaling in bated anticipation. He grins. “At our spot on the beach.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

With that, JJ goes down on you. He’s insatiable.

You’re still soaked from the last time you two fucked. The flavour of your cum mixed with his is fucking pornographic. Pair that with the sounds JJ spurs from you and he’s sure that the two of you have your tickets for hell already in your wallets. No complaints. If this is hell, JJ will gladly burn, all day long.

“Stop wriggling,” he says, lips wet.

“‘m sensitive, you asshole,” you slur.

“That how you should be talking to the guy eating you out right now?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

You hook a leg over his shoulder, urging him back to your cunt. JJ chuckles darkly before pushing your legs open wider, going in again with newfound hunger, bathing in your cries and cusses. He’s only known religion when he’s lied with you. As he lips suckle at your clit, he teases your weeping entrance with his finger. Pushing in, his silver ring cooly slides against your walls. You whine out, fucked up and pretty, and JJ rocks against the mattress, hard again.

“Fuck, JJ,” you whimper.

He glances up a moment to see you’re rubbing a hand to your forehead. Face contorted in overwhelming pleasure, there’s tears in your waterline again for the second time that night, and its JJ’s doing. It feels fucking fantastic.

“You close, baby?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

He uses his other hand that isn’t finger fucking your pussy to hold your hips down to the mattress. Picking up the pace, JJ works at you, watching your face as you teeter closer and closer to the edge.

“Come on, baby. Show me how fucking pretty you look when you come,” JJ grins.

Your body swallows at his fingers when you finish. Walls contracting again and again, JJ mouths swears against the soft skin of your stomach as he gently eases you through your high. There’s a quiet sob of euphoria.

“Nobody fucks you as good as I do,” JJ can’t help but boast, slipping his fingers out of you. “Gonna fuck you so good baby.”

He’s shifting you onto your stomach. Your body’s pliant like a rag doll but he knows you can take more. You’d tell him if you couldn’t; if you wanted him to stop. But as you raise your hips up for him, body dripping with cum that has JJ almost falling over the edge himself, he knows you want more. It’s like you were built for him or something. The yin to his libido-oriented yan. When JJ fucks you into the mattress, your face is mushed against the pillow. Wailing and moaning and fucking desperate. JJ finds himself coming all too soon and he does so with a groan of your name.

~*~*~*~*~*

In between school and treasure hunting and sneaking to and from your house, life still happens. Bills still need paying and food still needs eating.

JJ became used to working like a grown man ever since his mother left. His dad was less than reliable so if he wanted a full stomach and a roof over his head (unless he took advantage of John B), JJ had to start earning. Mostly odd jobs and side hustles to prevent the pockets from going empty. Running groceries to figure eight with Pope always helped. The other Pogues decided to tag along for the ride, too. They’re lounging on the boat, waiting for Heyward to finish bagging up all the produce they needed to deliver.

Sound carries easy on open water. It’s the sound of your laughter that catches JJ’s attention. He glances over instinctively. There you are, stood with three people along the jetty. You’re wearing a pair of denim-short overalls with a tee-shirt underneath. Not any tee-shirt: his tee-shirt. It sits a little big on you. Your hair is pulled back and you’re smiling. One hand in a pocket and the other holding a screwdriver. You must be doing an odd job on one of the local’s boats.

“I didn’t know she worked on boats,” Pope says.

JJ looks to him. He hadn’t realised that the others had clocked you too.

“Junkies gotta pay for their stuff somehow,” John B mutters.

“She’s not a junkie, dude,” JJ sighs. “Just cause her brother is don’t mean the whole family is.”

“Why’re you getting so mad about this?” Kiara wonders, glancing to her friend.

JJ shrugs. Shoves his hands in his short’s pockets. “Jus’ don’t think it’s fair talking crap about someone when there’s no need.”

“Not just anyone though, JayJ,” Kie says.

“Yeah. I mean, did you forget the fact that her brother literally robbed us at gunpoint?”

“And that you stole from him?”

“And that he laid you out for it,” John B finishes.

“I don’t need reminding of all that crap, alright? I’m perfectly aware. Damn,” JJ snaps, shooting the trio a glare.

Pope and John B seem to shrug it off. Kiara’s watching JJ again. It’s starting to become irritating, like a pebble that you can’t get out of your trainer.

“Kie what?”

“Nothing.”

“If you’ve got something to say to me, just say it,” JJ tells her.

She shrugs and glances back to you. Then, she shakes her head.

“Doesn’t matter.”

JJ can’t help but use the opportunity steel another look of you himself. You’re nodding at something one of the fisherman’s saying. Taking a glance over your shoulder at the boat, you point at something. It must be about the job they’ve asked for you to do.

“I wouldn’t trust her to work on my boat,” Pope says. “All I’m saying is, that family is bad news.”

“Since when did we judge others from the cut?” JJ mumbles, looking to his trainers as he scuffs them on the boat floor.

“Since their brother attacked us,” Pope returns.

JJ decides keeping quiet is best. It has to be, because if not, he won’t be able to hold his tongue any longer. He’s going to fly off the handle, in your defence, and they’re going to catch on. Worse, it might catch your attention, and you might just come over and casually introduce yourself to his friends, as if they hadn’t been speculating about you behind your back. The whole situation fills JJ with anxiety. The secret isn’t feeling so fun anymore. It’s bordering on dirty work, pummelling him with dread and shame, the same way a dealer might sleep with one eye open.

Heyward is JJ’s saving grace. He appears with reams of carrier bags in a small cart, calling out for the Pogues to start loading up. Later, as they set off towards figure eight, JJ glances your way one final time. You’re watching him. The smile on your face is gone and JJ’s never wanted to see it more.

~*~*~*~*~*

Time always passes quickly with you. It feels to JJ as though you’ve both been sat on your bed playing board games for less than an hour when two have passed. He sits across from you, messing with his lighter, as you deliberate over your concealed letters. He loves the way your brain works. You always have the most creative mind. It’s a shame it’s going to waste, out here, in the trailer.

A small grin comes to your face. You gather up your letters and lean forward to reach the board that sits atop of your duvet. JJ shamelessly glances down your tee shirt as it gapes open by the collar. It used to be his but you’d claimed it a month into dating him. He didn’t much mind. It looked better on you anyway. It was the one you were wearing at the docks, yesterday. Neither of you had mentioned that though.

“Zealous,” you say as you spell it out on the board.

Your fingers tap on each block as you count up your points. The chipped blue nail varnish shines bright in the sunlight streaking through your bedroom window.

“16 points with a double letter score on the ‘s’, making it 17.”

“17 big ones,” JJ mumbles as he writes your score down.

“Read it and weep, baby.”

JJ sighs in thought and leans back on his arms, deliberating over his letters. The room smells like incense, done to counteract the stench of mould, damp and cannabis.

JJ didn’t even know ‘zealous’ was a word. He debates on asking you what it means but decides against it. He sort of wants you to think he knows the word like you do, well enough to pluck it easily from your mind. It’d be funny to see you and Pope go head-to-head in this game, JJ comes to think. It’s a shame that’ll never come to be.

“Okay,” JJ says after homing in on his word. He begins to spell it on the board. “Asshole.”

“JJ, curse words aren’t allowed,” you tell him.

JJ glances up at you, midway through spelling. “Since when?”

“Since always. It’s in the rule book.”

“Who actually reads the rule book?” JJ snorts. He keeps spelling. “Sides. It’s not a curse word, it’s a factual term. The hole of the ass: asshole.”

“Thank you for that definition,” you sarcastically reply.

JJ finishes spelling and he begins to count up his points. He feels his grin begin to morph into a cocky smirk as he totals up.

“10 points anda triple letter score and a double word score, making this…”

He drumrolls on his knees as he takes a moment to do the maths in his head. “44 baby.”

“What?” you bark, leaning over to check.

JJ sniggers to himself as he goes to write his points. The pen is snatched from his hold.

“Hey!”

“You’re cheating!”

“How am I cheating?” JJ laughs.

“Swear words aren’t allowed!” you loudly tell him. You begin to remove his letters from the board.

“Hey!” JJ repeats, lunging over to grab them off you. You refuse to yield, holding them against your chest. “Gimme them!”

“You’re such a child!” you say, beginning to laugh.

JJ glances up to meet your gaze as he replies, “and you’re not? Stealing my letters from the board cause I got a better score?”

“I can’t give up my ‘z’ just for you to get more than double the amount of points with ‘asshole’!”

“Sore loser,” JJ mutters.

He’s still battling you for the plastic letters. In the process, he ends up knocking the board, sending all the other letters out of whack.

“JJ!”

“That was technically you, bro…”

“Let go!” you laugh.

You’ve tumbled onto your back now. JJ’s laughing too, trying to prise your hands open. He grins as he moves a hand under the shirt to tickle at your rib cages. Now you’re in hysterics, crying out, shaking from the humour.

“Stop! Stop! You win, alright! You win!”

Your hand tumbles open and JJ steals the letters back. He lamely tosses them onto the ruined scrabble board with a chuckle, instead leaning down to kiss your giggling mouth. You barely kiss him back through your laughter. JJ doesn’t much care. Hearing you laugh might be the best sound on earth.

“You can’t just kiss me and think you’re off the hook for ruining the game,” you say, opening your eyes into his.

JJ rolls his eyes mirthfully, propping himself above you with one arm. “Well, I didn’t ruin the game—”

“—You messed up the board!”

“Because you wouldn’t give me back my letters!”

You’re vivaciously laughing again, prompting JJ to do so, too. He presses wet kisses to your jawline. Breathes in the scent of you – rose and bergamot – and wishes he could bathe in the smell. Wishes he could bottle it up and carry it around with him, so he never has to be without. He doesn’t say that though. Knows you’ll laugh at him if he does. Instead, he kisses you once more before pulling back to meet your gaze. You’ve mostly calmed your laughter now. Reaching up a hand, you steal his skew-whiff cap and place it on your head with a playful grin.

“How’s it look?”

“You’re almost as handsome as me,” JJ returns, flicking at the lip of it.

You snort. “Impossible.”

JJ can’t help but kiss you again. You sigh into it. Stroke lovingly at his jaw. The moment he pulls away for breath, you’re talking again. He thinks he could listen to your ramblings and never get bored.

“Can you sleep over tonight?”

Plucking out a strand of her to mess with, JJ replies, “what time’s your brother home?”

“Why? You wanna sleep in his bed instead?”

“Har har,” he deadpans. Blows a raspberry against your throat, making you laugh. “Seriously, though. What time?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Maybe one-ish, in the morning?”

JJ nods. He tucks the hair behind your ear. “I don’t think I can.”

You sigh, not particularly irritated, smile still on your face. “He’s not that scary, JJ. I don’t get why you won’t just meet him. When you talk to him, you’ll be fine.”

“I just don’t want him thinking I’m treating his little sister badly. Gotta wine and dine you first,” JJ returns teasingly. He lies through his teeth as if it comes as natural as breathing.

“We’re not Catholics, JayJ,” you snicker. “I don’t think he’d drop dead if he knew there was a guy in my bed.”

“Still,” JJ says. “I don’t want to meet him by bumping into him in the morning.”

You sigh. You run your fingers through his hair in a way that has him weak in the knees. JJ loves how you touch him like he’s something precious; dote on him like a rich parent might to their only child. The way you look at him, it makes JJ feel somewhere between a young God and an innocent man. It’s like he couldn’t do wrong in your eyes. The thought shouldn’t bring as much dread to JJ as it does.

“Could you at least stay over on Wednesday night? Barry’s out of town for a couple of days, then.”

“Sure,” JJ shrugs. “Why Wednesday?”

Your smile momentarily falters. “Wait, for real?”

Oh. Fuck, of course. The picnic. Your birthday. His mind has been so scattered lately, with sneaking around and throwing the Pogues off his scent, and the chaos with the cross and the island room and Sarah and John B…Days seem to merge into one. It’s hard to keep track sometimes.

JJ hopes he plays it off well as he grins. “I’m just messing with you. I know it’s your birthday.”

Your sigh of relief is a little too real. It makes him feel guilty like a man on trial. You gently bat at his chest. “Asshole.”

“Hey! That’s a 44-point word,” JJ winks.

You roll your eyes and smile up at him, and JJ considers staying like this forever.

He doesn’t miss how your smile doesn’t stretch all the way like usual.

~*~*~*~*~*

It’s starting to feel like JJ needs organisers for his mind and thoughts. They’re racing, twenty-four-seven, robbing him of sleep. Daydreams about the cross and what the hell the island room might be. Daydreams about riches if they somehow find it. Daydreams about the future, with you always finding yourself at the forefront. White dress, gold ring, swollen belly…Thoughts about you and fears about people finding out. About the robbery that haunts him and how, because of his own stupid choices, the two of you may never reach that future. How he knows that you’re slipping away from him, slowly but surely, like sand falling through his fingers, grain by grain. How he might not be able to keep his grip. How it might all have been inevitably doomed from the start. I mean, aren’t all the greatest love affairs?

“You’re thinking an awful lot over there, JayJ,” Kiara says.

“Yeah. You’re probably gonna end up hurting yourself,” John B adds.

“Charming, man. Thank you,” JJ sighs.

He tugs off his cap and tosses his head back with another deep exhale. The Pogues are lounging around at the chateau.

“What’s bothering you so much?” Kie wonders.

“You know, just…” JJ gestures lamely. “All this bullshit cross stuff. No offence, Pope.”

“None taken, I don’t think,” he replies.

“I mean, couldn’t Denmark have just written co-ordinates or something. And made a spare key,” JJ mutters. He’s aware of the glare Pope shoots his way. “Jus’ saying.”

“It is a bit cryptic,” Kie backs.

Pope sighs. “Look, it’s somewhere on this island. If we get to it first, then the key doesn’t really matter. All I know is that it’s somewhere on this island.”

“Great. That narrows down our hunt,” JJ says under-breath.

“So broody,” John B teases.

“Yeah. I refuse to believe the cross is bothering you this much,” Kiara says.

“Why’s everyone on my back all of a sudden?” JJ snaps, looking to his friends. “Like, can we all just back off for now, alright? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

John B holds his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “Easy, JayJ.”

“We’ve woken the beast,” Pope mumbles, making the other two laugh.

JJ rolls his eyes. He lays back on the hammock and folds his arms under his head. The weed and the liquor haven’t made him loosen up. His eyes trace the clouds in the sky above, through the canopy of the tree. Somewhere in his daydreams and thoughts, as the rest of the Pogues chatter, he ends up closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

When JJ comes to, it’s with a start. It seems to startle Kie, too, who’s sat on the grass, lazily thrumming her ukulele.

“You good?”

He sits up slowly. Rubbing his face, JJ retrieves his cap. “How long was I out for?”

“Three hours.”

JJ is suddenly awake, any drowsiness gone in a second.

“What?”

Kiara shrugs and keeps plucking out the easily melody she’s invented.

“We tried to wake you up but you just shrugged us off, so we thought it was better if we just let you sleep. Seemed like you needed it.”

JJ only half hears her. His mind is still reeling from the reality that he was asleep for three hours.

“Wait, what time is it?”

He retrieves his phone from his short’s pocket. Pressing the power button, JJ cusses when he realises it’s dead.

“What’s the big deal?” Kie mutters, watching him get to his feet in a hurry.

“What fucking time is it?” he sharply returns. He’s lacing up his boots again.

She mumbles a less than needed comment under breath but pulls out her phone nonetheless, glancing at the screen.

“Almost nine.”

No.

No, no, no.

It must be written on his face, the soul-crushing, body numbing horror overcoming JJ. The kind of dread one gets when they remember on some idle Thursday a piece of paperwork they needed to do the previous day, though only worse. A million times worse. Kiara frowns up at him in concern.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” JJ mumbles darkly.

He yanks his cap off and paces the garden. He can’t call you – his phone’s dead. Would you even answer anyway? Will you still be at the beach? Should he go? No, of course, he should go. He has to go.

“JJ, it’s clearly not ‘nothing’.”

“It’s none of your goddamn business, Kie, alright?” he snaps.

JJ doesn’t have time to feel guilty for snapping at his friend. He has to see you. He has to make this right. The sand is falling through his fingers now, the gaps between digits nothing more than gaping caverns.

JJ pulls back on his cap and heads straight for his bike. He kicks off the stand and starts the engine in a hurry. Then he’s hurling towards the beach-spot; secluded and quiet and serene - everything JJ feels as though he’s not. He practically dumps his bike in the process of rushing to see you, racing down the familiar track to the dunes. He’s panting, panic deep in his chest, a hand coming up to rub at his heart as if worried it might beat out his body. He looks up and down the beach, searching for any sign of you, and then his eyes fixate on something. He runs over, ducking down to see it’s your cardigan.

“Fuck,” JJ mumbles.

He looks out to the water. It’s sunset. Reflects on the water, shimmers on the sand.

“Fuck.”

JJ tightens his grip on your cardigan like it’s a part of you and heads to the house without thinking. He needs to find you and make this right. The stairs creak under foot as he hurries up them, onto the porch and inside the house. Ditching the cardigan on the kitchen table, he makes a b-line for your bedroom. The door’s shut. Rapping twice on the wood, quick and short, impatient, JJ leans against the doorframe. Calls out your name.

“I know you’re home, okay? Look, can we just talk?”

Knocks again, louder. Tries the handle. Locked. He repeats your name, calling out to you, tone desperate.

“I just wanna talk, alright!? Please! I know I messed up but just hear me out and—”

The door swings open. He’s breathing heavy, trying uselessly to alleviate his anxiety, and looks down to meet your gaze. His stomach constricts like a boa snake. You’re crying. Shoulders hung like you’ve lost a battle and body sagging like you’re exhausted.

“I…”

JJ’s words die on his tongue. An apology seems so minuscule now. It’s like trying to put out a dumpster fire with a glass of water.

“I lost track of time.”

You scoff. Shake your head, breaking his gaze.

“You lost track of time,” you repeat, under breath, voice unfamiliar.

“I did and…I know I messed up, okay? I’m sorry I just…I forgot and--”

“You forgot? You forgot, huh?”

You’re looking up at him now but your eyes are narrowed. The pain has morphed into anger. Lips are downturned into a disapproving frown.

“Did you think that’s how I wanted to spend my birthday, JJ?”

“I know, but I—”

“No,” you interrupt, holding up a hand. The tears are still falling and each one feels like a pinprick to JJ’s chest. “I’m talking now.”

JJ swallows thickly.

“Did you think that I wanted to spend my eighteenth birthday on the beach having a picnic? I mean, did you think I didn’t have better offers? That my friends didn’t want to throw me a party, and that I didn’t want to get drunk and celebrate with the people in my life that care about me? No! I wanted to go for a picnic because I wanted to spend my birthday with you. And you don’t even show up! You don’t call me, you don’t text! You just leave me, sitting there, like a fucking idiot, on my own. And do you know the worst part, JJ?”

He can feel his own lips quivering. Purses them together to fight back the tears. He can feel the tapestry ripping.

You hold his gaze as your lips form a demented smile. A solemn laugh accompanies your confession. “The worst part is, I wasn’t even surprised when you didn’t show up. In fact, I had a feeling that it would happen.”

“Don’t say that,” JJ whispers.

“‘Don’t say that?’ What? Say that you treat me like shit?”

“I don’t treat you like shit,” JJ argues back. Because he doesn’t, does he?

“You don’t—JJ! What can’t you see here?” you snap at him, gesturing around you. “You’ve been losing me for a long time and you’ve just let it fucking happen! It’s like you knew you were on thin ice and you just kept on jumping! I mean, did you want us to fail? Was it easier than just breaking up with me?”

“Why would I want us to fail!?” JJ shouts back.

You turn around and retreat into your bedroom, shaking your head. JJ finds himself following.

“Answer me!”

“I don’t have to answer you, JJ!” you scream at him, spinning around. “I mean, how else am I supposed to interpret this whole situation!?”

“I love you, alright? Isn’t that enough for you?” JJ yells. His tone is angry but his face is crumbling.

You shake your head. Wrap your arms around yourself like a hug. “No! It isn’t! It can’t be, okay? I told you before: I don’t want to be a secret forever, JJ.”

“You’re not a secret—”

“Then tell me why I can’t meet your friends? Why you can’t meet my brother? I know I don’t come from the best home, JJ, and I know my family is a mess and I’m probably gonna end up in an early grave like the rest of them—”

“-Don’t say that—”

“And I know I’m not the kind of thing that people want to show off but…” You catch your breath through your sobs. Steel yourself. “But I’m a good person, JJ. I know I’m a good person, and I deserve good things, and I deserve someone who makes me feel good.”

“I can,” JJ pleads. He clears the space between you. Grabs for your hands. Feels the ground break beneath him when you fight out of his grip. “I can make you feel good.”

“You don’t, though,” you cry. “I don’t feel good, JJ. I feel fucking used.”

No.

No, no…It’s falling apart and JJ can’t lose you. He can’t…This can’t end like this. He feels like he’s a kid again, begging for his mom not to walk out, begging for forgiveness from his dad. It’s screamingly familiar. He can’t lose another thing. He can’t lose you. Wasn’t that what all this was for? The lying and the secrets was all some desperate attempt to keep you. JJ had to keep you.

JJ pants, stood before you, feeling more vulnerable than he ever has before, even more so than when he’s laid bare in front of you. You’re still crying and it’s because of him, and that hurts worse than any punch JJ’s ever had thrown at him.

“Tell me how to fix this,” JJ begs.

You shake your head.

“Tell me how to fix this,” he repeats, demanding it. “I need to fix this!”

You lift your head slowly to meet his gaze. He knows he looks desperate. Sounds it, too. But he doesn’t care. Hell, he is. He needs you in his life. With everything else that has been going on, you’re the one ray of sun, always warming his soul. His smile and his shine. JJ doesn’t know joy without you. Doesn’t know love or pleasure or trust, like he does with you. His daydreams of the future are falling apart in this moment. No dress and no house and no family. Nothing. Just him and a bottle and his wasted heart.

“Let me meet your friends,” you manage out. “I meet your friends, and you meet my brother and meet my friends, and we go on dates together like normal people, and we don’t keep this a secret. And you show up to my birthdays and you’re not late to our dates and you stay overnight and…And I get to have you. All of you. Just…Just do that and we can try and make this work, JJ.”

JJ starts crying. He’s sobbing, stood before you, because he knows that this is over now. It’s over.

You nod. It seems his tears are answer enough.

“You can’t,” you whisper. You say it, as though something has just become clear to you. Shaking your head, taking a step away from him, the distance is already gaping. You cry. “Even when you know you’re going to lose me. Your reputation is still more important to you than I am.”

“That’s not it,” he argues, wiping at his face. “That’s not what it is.”

“I don’t care, JJ,” you confess in a breath. Wipe furiously at your cheeks and stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t have the energy to care, anymore.”

JJ hadn’t experienced heartbreak before. The songs and the films lied about it, though. They play it down. It’s torturous. Slow and cavernous and insurmountably painful. He clutches at his t-shirt, over his chest, as if thinking he could make the pain stop. He wants all of this to stop. And with the next words you utter, he feels as if it does. He feels as if his whole world stops.

“We’re done, JJ.”

~*~*~*~*~*

Since the break-up, JJ feels as though he’s sailing through a storm-ridden sea without a compass or guide. No direction and no sign of freedom from the turmoil. He’s drowned his sorrows and anxieties with drugs. Booze for the tears and cannabis for the regret. Numbs the anger with nicotine and waits until he’s exhausted to drop to sleep for fear of dreaming about you, in any capacity. He can’t decide which dreams are worse: the ones where you’re mad at him and crying, or the one’s where you’re happy and laughing over a scrabble board. All of them feel like nightmares.

The group must’ve sensed a difference in him, but if they have, they don’t bother to mention it. JJ’s grateful. It’s not like he could talk about it anyway.

“Wake up, JayJ,” Kiara says. She kicks at his feet.

“Quit it,” JJ mumbles into the pillow.

“Come on. We’re going on a walk.”

“Have fun,” JJ sighs. He’s been awake for about five minutes and can already feel the craving for another beer starting up.

Kiara keeps kicking at his feet. It’s starting to tick him off.

“I mean me and you are going for a walk. Now get up,” Kie tells him.

“I don’t feel like walking, Kie,” JJ says impatiently.

“I don’t care, bro. I’m sick of seeing you wallow in the chateau. We could find the island room at any moment and we don’t need you like this when we do.”

He knows that’s not the truth. JJ knows his friends care about him (as hard as it is to fathom sometimes) and he knows that the way he’s acting must be of concern. Especially because they don’t know why. Who would suspect a break-up for a guy who’s been nothing but single his whole life?

But JJ doesn’t feel like pity. He doesn’t feel like talking or spending time with anyone else but a bottle of corona. His plans to fall back to sleep and ignore Kiara’s demands are thrown out the window, however, when she dunks a pint of cold water on his back. JJ cusses out, shooting up, feeling his head pound at the motion. Still a little drunk.

“What the hell Kiara!”

“Rise and shine,” she smiles in faux sweetness. She ditches the glass on countertop and heads out the front door, onto the porch. “You got five minutes, princess.”

“Fuck off,” JJ mutters under breath.

Clearly, Kie’s not going to lay off anytime soon. If he goes on this walk, even for five minutes, maybe JJ can be left in peace for the rest of the day to drink himself stupid. Besides, it would work as a nice distraction from falling into thoughts of you and checking his phone every five minutes in case you decided to text him. With that motivation, JJ tugs on a muscle tee and ties up the laces on his boots. Kiara holds out a joint in an act of peace when he steps onto the porch. It works in moving her back into his good books.

“Come on, man. Let’s go into the marsh,” Kiara says, standing up.

JJ walks by her side, smoking the blunt, passing it to her now and then. The sounds of the world somewhat mellow out when they pass the threshold into the marsh. Trees and shrubberies and bushes surrounding them. Their feet follow a path made purely from being trodden so many times. JJ kicks at a nettle plant as they pass. He’s taken to trying to distinguish the different birds around them purely from their calls.

“I know, by the way,” Kiara says, breaking their silence.

JJ looks at her. “Huh?”

“I know. About Barry’s sister,” she tells him.

JJ’s stomach drops. He’s surprised he doesn’t lose his footing. Clearing his throat, looking ahead again, he shrugs.

“What are you talking about?”

“It was kinda obvious, JayJ.”

JJ clenches his eyes shut. “Kie…I really don’t wanna talk about this, alright?”

“I had a feeling about it at the bonfire,” she says, ignoring him. “I mean, I knew you were into someone that day at the chateau, but I didn’t know who. And then you were jumping to her defence for like no reason. The real clue was when you went into the woods literally right after she did. Like, seriously, bro? Subtle much?”

“Did you not hear what I said, Kiara? I don’t wanna talk about it,” JJ hisses.

Kiara continues, nonetheless. “Then at the docks, you were defending her again. That wasn’t the giveaway though. The giveaway was the fact that she was wearing your tee-shirt, bro. That just sealed the deal for me.”

“Congratulations, alright? You solved the mystery. Now can you please just let it go,” JJ sharply tells her. He takes another hit of the bud, hoping it’ll help to calm him down.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell us,” Kie says.

“Kiara-”

“I mean, I get wanting to keep it on the downlow maybe, but we’d have been cool with it,” Kiara tells him.

“I don’t wanna—”

“I haven’t told the others yet but—”

“Just shut up, alright!? Shut up!” JJ snaps.

His patience snaps like the fraying rope of a river swing. Plummets him into anger and drenches him in regret.

“What the hell, JJ? I’m saying that we support you, alright?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Kiara,” JJ shouts. He tugs off his cap and wrings it angrily in his hands. “None of it fucking matters!”

It seems as if he’s yelling at her, but he isn’t. Not actually. He’s mad at himself. Furious at managing to muck up one of the only good things in his life. JJ meets Kie’s gaze dead on.

“She left me, alright? It’s over. So, it doesn’t matter anymore, okay? So just drop it.”

Saying it out loud feels as though JJ’s shoving his nails into an open gash.

He collapses onto a fallen tree trunk, dropping his cap and hanging his head into his hands. When he rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration, it isn’t sweet like when you do it, and it only makes him miss you more.

JJ hears Kiara sigh. She sits down next to him and he watches her in his peripheral a moment.

“Is this why you’ve been acting the way you have?”

JJ doesn’t reply. He only sighs deeply into the clamminess of his palms. It seems to work as an answer in and of itself.

“Shit, JJ.”

“Don’t pity me.”

“Too late.”

He sighs again. Slowly, he lifts his head out his hands, keeping his fingers pressed near his lips as if in silent prayer.

“Can I ask how?”

“How what?”

“How it all ended,” she clarifies.

JJ glances to her. Kiara’s eyes are soft with sympathy. JJ shrugs as if he doesn’t know. As if it’s a mystery why you up and left, when the clues are as a clear as a confession note.

“I fucked it up. That’s how.”

“I feel like that’s not the whole truth, JayJ.”

“But it’s the point, okay? I fucked it up, like I fuck up everything, like I knew I would. It was a fucking pipe dream anyway.”

“I don’t understand,” Kiara mumbles.

Leaning down, she retrieves his cap and dusts it off. It stings just to look at it. It’s the same one you stole from him during one of your usual scrabble-offs. You always beat him. Always.

“Can you just tell me what happened?”

“Why?” JJ sighs tiredly.

“So I can understand why you didn’t trust us enough to tell us,” she replies. JJ hates the momentary hurt that swipes across her features. “Pogues don’t keep secrets from Pogues.”

JJ shakes his head smally, like a boy in confessional. “It wasn’t because of you guys.”

“Then…Why?”

“It’s because of me,” JJ admits.

“JJ. Self-blame isn’t going to work—”

“No, Kiara. I actually mean it this time, alright? It’s because of me,” JJ doubles-down, holding her gaze. It’s suddenly exhausting to try and keep a lid on his emotions. “She didn’t want to keep it a secret, okay? She wanted to meet you guys, and for me to meet her friends and stuff. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to. She’d get along great with you lot. I mean, she’s as damn smart as Pope and funny as hell. And she’s kind. Like actually kind, but not in a boring way, or in a push-over way. Just in a pure perfect kinda way. When she looks at me…God, this is going to sound corny as hell, but she makes me feel like I’m a good person. Like I can’t do anything wrong in her eyes. Least, she used to.”

A consoling hand is placed on his shoulder. It spurs him on.

“In all honesty, it started out as a secret because I didn’t think it’d last longer than a month. But then I started to fall for her, so hard and so fucking fast, and it scared the shit out of me. And I knew that if I wanted to keep her around, then she couldn’t ever find out about what I did to Barry.”

Kiara frowns as he says that, as if trying to follow. “Wait. Do you mean with the money and stuff?”

JJ nods, pursing his lips.

She shakes her head with a deep sigh. “JJ. That shit was so long ago—”

“It doesn’t matter. I still did it, alright? Barry’s all she’s got in terms of family and I stole from him. And not just a little bit. A lot. So if she ever found out; she’d leave me.”

Kie holds his gaze. “‘She’d leave you’? How do you know that?”

“I just do, okay?”

“No, JayJ, you don’t,” Kie tells him. “I mean, if she’s as good a person as you say she is, then how do you know she wouldn’t look past it? I’m sure she’s not blind to the fact that you do stupid shit, bro. Or that her brother isn’t the nicest of guys. He had a gun to our head, man.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Cause I lost her anyway,” JJ returns, perhaps a little sharply.

Out of guilt, JJ looks away from his friend’s eyes. He rubs at his face, perhaps in an attempt to distract himself from this pitiful conversation. JJ could do with a shower and a shave. Didn’t seem all that important in the last week, though.

“Can I say something?”

“I have a feeling that you’re going to anyway,” JJ mutters.

“Is there a chance that you were using the thing with Barry as an excuse?”

JJ face darkens into a deep frown. Looking to her, he asks, “what?”

“I mean…I don’t think it’s exactly a secret that you aren’t good at accepting love.”

“Gee, thanks, Kie.”

“Just, hear me out,” she says, stopping him before he can go off in a huff. JJ does so reluctantly. “Telling her about Barry means that she sees you for your good and your bad, and keeping it from her, and from us, and from everyone really, means that it doesn’t actually become real.”

“I’m not following,” JJ mumbles.

“Lemme put it another way then,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Maybe – on some level – by keeping it a secret, you felt like you couldn’t really lose her if things turned out bad.”

JJ frowns again, though this time, it isn’t out of offence. Instead, it teeters on the line of confusion and understanding.

Kiara doesn’t expand more. Just lets him sit with it for a moment. JJ looks down at his feet, skimming at the overgrown plants.

Was that it? Was the thing with Barry – JJ’s big motivation to keep your relationship a secret – mostly an excuse?

He didn’t want Barry to find out because he’d definitely beat JJ’s ass again and hound on him for getting with his sister, and you probably would be crushed to know he stole from your brother, but…But then what? Then things would surely move on. He’d either have you or lose you, but it’d be reality. By keeping things secret, it was as if JJ was only playing half his hand. That maybe the stakes would be somehow smaller if he didn’t have you completely, because then he wouldn’t lose you completely either. Ironic, how wrong that was. How it didn’t matter in the end.

JJ had taken beatings before. He could stomach another from Barry if it meant he got to have you in his life. He knows that now. In fact, having you leave him hurt worse than any right-hook Barry could send his way. Being down in the dirt wouldn’t matter all that much if you were there to pull him out and dust him off. It wouldn’t matter if you were just there.

Looking to Kiara, JJ swallows his pride. “I don’t know how to fix it, Kiara. I…I don’t know if I can.”

She sighs and nods in thought.

“Tell me what the last straw was.”

“The last straw?”

“The thing that made it all end, for good,” Kie says.

JJ purses his lips. The shame comes slow and simmering when he replies. “I stood her up. On her birthday. Her eighteenth birthday.”

“Ouch,” Kie eventually whispers.

JJ nods, looking down at the ground. “Yep. ‘Ouch’.”

“Okay, you know what you gotta do then,” she sighs, hopping to her feet. JJ looks up and takes her in.

“What?”

“You gotta go all out.”

“Excuse me?”

“You gotta swallow your pride and pull a romantic gesture.”

JJ doesn’t have it in him to burst into fits of laughter. Instead, he stares at Kiara as if she’s sprouted an extra head. All he can do is repeat himself.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re righting your wrongs and throwing her a birthday gesture, and you’re going to do some serious sucking up and swoon the shit out of this girl,” Kiara instructs. She holds out his cap for him.

JJ eyes it as if it might be laced with chloroform. “She’s really not the romantic gesture type, man.”

“Every girl is, deep down. Sides. Not like you have anything much to lose now.”

His eyes dart back up to Kie’s. She’s not wrong.

With that numbing thought, JJ grabs his cap back, shoves it on, and jumps onto his feet. “Fine. Fuck it.”

“Atta boy.”

~*~*~*~*~*

It was nice to realise that JJ’s week in purgatory hadn’t impaired his planning capabilities. Once he’d finished confessing to the rest of the Pogues about his nearly year-long secret relationship with Barry’s sister (and taken the brunt of the onslaught of questions, teasing and berating), they were more than willing to help out their friend.

JJ took advantage of your trustworthiness and willingness to help others to lure you out, with Kiara as bait. She’d go to your trailer, sneak to your bedroom window (which JJ identified in his incredible, Louvre-worthy drawing) and lure you out to ‘help with her faulty car motor’. JJ knew Barry was out collecting until later that day, so it was fairly safe to send Kie out there. She was more than willing to do it anyway. In the meantime, John B and Pope helped JJ set up some romantic gesture per Kie’s instruction. He felt like an idiot as he did it. This wasn’t your style or his, but he was throwing the hail Mary now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

I.E. Fuck it.

But now that everything is set up, JJ feels like he might throw-up with nerves. He’s already ran his vape dry and it feels like the nicotine has hardly touched him. Sat on the jetty, illuminated by a myriad of candles which are definitely a huge fire risk, JJ meddles with his lighter anxiously as he waits for Kie to come back with you on the boat. The water laps at the rotting podiums, holding him up. He sighs and listens to the sounds of nightlife, as the clock nears midnight. Whenever he closes his eyes, he sees your tear-soaked face, the moment before you broke up with him. JJ doesn’t close his eyes.

The symphony of nature is broken apart by the hum of a motorboat. He glances to the sound to see Kiara stood behind the wheel. You’re sat in the back, legs crossed; face the look of scepticism. It morphs into daylight-clear betrayal when you spot JJ.

“Wait. What the…”

JJ shakily exhales and gets to his feet. He’s not used to feeling this nervous around you. Kiara slows the motor to a stop at the jetty, but you don’t move.

“You said you needed help with your motor,” you say to Kiara.

She smiles apologetically. “Well, JJ said you were pretty trusting.”

“I don’t want to see you,” you say to JJ now.

JJ nods. Instinctively he shoves his hands in his pockets, letting his nails anxiously dig into the flesh of his palms. “I know. I know you don’t but I can’t let you have a shit birthday, no matter how things go between us.”

It seems with that; you take in the sights of the jetty. The candles placed around the peeling-paint wood. Two pillows to save you both from splinters. Between them sits a scrabble board, already set up. You gnaw at your lower lip. There’s the smallest movement of your head as you try to shake it.

“Just…Just give me this, and then you don’t have to talk to me ever again, if you don’t wanna. Okay?” JJ sighs.

He extends out a hand for you. His heart thrums with anxiety as he waits for your reaction.

Your eyes move up to his. You regard him a moment. Then, with a sigh, you’re getting to your feet and taking his hand, letting him help you onto the jetty. Kiara flashes JJ a small, reassuring smile, and then she’s making off into the night.

“This might be the corniest thing you’ve ever done, by the way,” you mumble.

You remove your hand from his and stand defensively on the edge of the wood, making him a little nervous that you might fall in.

“I know,” JJ chuckles uneasily, glancing down to the set-up. “Don’t bust my balls yet though, alright?”

He sits down on one of the pillows. Nods for you to take the other spot. After a moment’s consideration, you do. You bring your cargo-covered legs near to your chest as if closing yourself off from him. He watches as your eyes dart down to the scrabble board, void of letters, and then down to your selection.

“What is this?”

“One last game.”

“JJ…”

“Just one,” he almost pleads. The two of you look at one another. Sighing, he shrugs. “I can’t let our last conversation end the way it did.”

“I don’t feel like scrabble,” you say.

JJ nods and looks down to pick at his fingernails. This was such a dumb idea. Why the hell did he let Kiara talk him into this? John B and Pope are probably watching from the chateau, placing bets on how long it takes for you to leave him there, sniggering at his uselessness.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t wanna do this, JJ,” you tell him, glancing out to the water.

“Just please let me get this out,” JJ says. “Then I can get John B to drive you home, if you want. Or Kiara can come back with the boat. Whatever you prefer.”

You swallow. “John B knows I’m here?”

“Yeah,” JJ nods. “They all do. They all know.”

“Know what, exactly?”

“That I’m a fucking idiot, for starters,” JJ tells you. “And that I was dumb enough to lose you.”

“The pity parade isn’t going to win you points, JJ,” you say.

JJ shakes his head. “I’m not trying to win anything.”

“So this isn’t a ploy to try and win me back? Shame. You had me going for a second.”

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I am,” he affirms. It makes you chuckle quietly. He can’t tell if the humour is genuine. “This whole time, I was telling myself we had to stay as a secret because of something I did, but I was bullshitting myself. I just…Well, I think a part of me just wanted you to myself, and none of the pressures of everyone else, but I think another part of me didn’t want to risk losing you.”

You frown.

“Yeah, dumb, I know, cause I did anyway,” JJ mutters. Makes your smile halfway return. “But then you thought that it was because of you, for some reason. That it’s because of who you are. That’s not it. That was never it. It’s just…It’s hard to explain…”

“You don’t have to explain it, then,” you say. JJ closes his eyes at the sound of your voice, sweet with understanding. “But you do have to explain this thing you did. The thing that made you want to keep us a secret.”

JJ shakes his head and purses his lips. “You’re gonna hate me.”

“I don’t hate anyone,” you tell him.

Shakily exhaling, JJ looks out to the water. He steadies himself like a first-time surfer, then looks to you. You’re watching him expectantly, waiting.

“I have a past with doing stupid things. I mean, I think you know that but…I can do really stupid things sometimes. I don’t think ten steps ahead and I make bad choices and I can’t be talked down from them. And it makes messes. I’m not proud of it, I need you to know that.”

You nod.

JJ sighs. “Do you remember when I told you about the gold?”

You nod once more.

“Well, we tried to pawn some of it off one time. We got sent out into the middle of nowhere on a fake-out and this guy stops us and robs us all at gunpoint.”

“Wait, what?”

JJ swallows and nods. “Somehow we got the upper hand and it turns out to be Barry. I recognised him as my dad’s dealer, you know?”

You’re shaking your head. “He wouldn’t…Why would he do that? He wouldn’t do that…”

“I got angry, like a fucking idiot,” JJ sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair as he hangs his head a moment. “So I take the wheel and take us to his house and…And I rob him. Twenty-thousand.”

There’s no reply for a while. Merely the lapping of the water and the faint crackle of the candle’s wicker as it burns.

“You robbed him?”

“Eye for an eye, you know?” JJ mumbles, no conviction to his words.

“Why…Why didn’t you tell me this?” you can’t help but ask.

JJ swallows thickly. He shrugs as he raises his head to look at you.

“I don’t know. I guess because I wasn’t sure if you’d tell Barry, or if you’d leave me, maybe? Or maybe I just…You always do the right thing and you have this way of looking at me like I’m this good person. I didn’t want that to go away.”

Your expression is stoic. He can’t quite read the emotions on your face, as each seems to come and go so quickly as you process JJ’s big confession. It’s like trying to understand a story from a torn-up foreign book.

In the silence of your deliberation, JJ feels himself shrug again. He meddles his fingers together, gazing down at them; his forearms resting atop of his knees, legs brought up to his chest similar to your own.

“I’m not a good person. I do bad things and I make bad choices and I suck at doing the right thing.”

“Stop it, JJ.”

He looks up to you with that. You’re shaking your head.

“There are no good people and bad people, so don’t start falling into some self-destructive spiel thinking it’s going to make me feel better about any of this,” you tell him.

JJ nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I just…Why would Barry…I don’t understand,” you sigh. You clasp your hands over your face.

In that moment, JJ’s nearly certain he’s lost you for good. He half wants to gloat to Kiara that he was right; that you saw the real him and didn’t like it. But it isn’t a nice feeling. JJ hangs his head and prepares himself for the final blow. He’s already planning his request for John B to drive you back home. Debating if he’ll try and kiss you goodbye. Wonders which alcohol to wash it all down with.

“I’m sorry he did that to you, JJ.”

JJ’s head nearly flies off his head with how quickly it darts back up.

“What?”

“He told me he doesn’t do shit like that anymore,” you’re saying. JJ’s taken to watching your mouth, like he’s having trouble following your words in the silence of the night. “I told him I didn’t want him doing shit like that anymore. He lied to me.”

“I don’t understand,” JJ manages out.

You shake your head. “I’m not mad at you, for robbing him. People make bad choices, JJ, but that doesn’t make them bad people. The same way he went after you guys first. The same way I jumped to conclusions about why you wanted to keep this a secret.”

“How is that a bad choice?” JJ frowns. “I didn’t give you any better explanation for why. I was just so fucking scared that I’d lose you if you knew the truth.”

“Because I knew you weren’t the type of dumbass who gives a shit about family and reputation and appearances, but I still let my own fucking insecurities lead me to think that it was because of me. That you didn’t want to be seen with me because of my family, and all of their shitty choices. Including the gunpoint bullshit thing he pulled on you and your friends.”

JJ shakes his head. He instinctively reaches a hand out to you, grabbing at your trainer clad shoes and squeezing.

“I know more than anyone that people are more than their dumbass families.”

You chuckle solemnly at that. Moving your hand, you lay it atop of his and you don’t pull away when he flips his, palm up, and intertwines your fingers. It feels like you’re mending all his gashes from that single touch alone.

“I know you have every reason to say no to me here,” JJ begins. “I mean, I’ve been nothing short of a dumbass and…Well, I’m kinda beating around the bush here, but…”

You quirk a brow. There’s that smile he loves. Teasing and playful and perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.

“But here’s a crazy idea. How about we date, like normal people, and I don’t forget your birthdays, and I’m not late for our dates, and I sleep over at night. And you meet my friends, and I meet yours, and maybe I steer a bit clear of your brother still. Just to be safe.”

“Just so you can keep your balls.”

“Ideally, yeah.”

You both laugh at that. Both somewhat tearful.

You squeeze his hand.

“Well, if your friends know about us, we can just crash at the chateau more, I guess,” you say, voice reserved still, as if he might laugh in your face.

JJ doesn’t though. He smiles wider. Nods. “Now there’s an idea.”

“I think I’d be cool with that, then,” you half-whisper.

JJ smiles at you like you’re the sun and he’s the moon, and he’d spend forever in your orbit if you’d only let him. You might just.

Leaning forward, he kisses you, sweet and tender. You don’t let him pull back; moving to slide a hand around his neck, another slipping along his jaw like a priest’s gentle touch during baptism. This close, he can smell your perfume: rose and bergamot. And this; this is what living is for.

“I love you,” JJ confesses, the moment your lips break apart.

You laugh smally; your cherubic voice easing the cacophony of thoughts that had been plaguing JJ for the past month or so.

“I love you too, you idiot,” you return. Swiping your thumb over his cheek, smiling wider as he leans shamelessly into your touch, you add, “just stop doing stupid things, please.”

“Darling, there’s no way I can promise you that,” JJ returns.

He cuts off your wonderful laughter with a grinning kiss. He doesn’t care if his friends can see. If they’re making fun of him for how much he’s at your mercy. Afterall, JJ is in love with you. It’s not like it’s a secret or anything.

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shadowqueenjude · 9 months ago

Text

Ok this idea is so funny to me so I just had to write it lmaooo

Eris strolled the rich forest air behind his father's house. He despised everything about this place. It reeked of blood. Blood from Beron's torture of each of his sons, blood from the executions that had occurred here, including Eris's brother's lover. Every time he was forced to be here, he desired to leave. Unfortunately, he had to be prepared for a meeting in twenty minutes.

Just then, he noticed a shadow moving on the ground not twenty paces from him; the shadows were unaccompanied by any visible being and were too large to be a little critter. Eris chuckled to himself. He had been wondering when the Night Court thugs would be coming to melt his brain for what he'd seen the cursebreaker do. Perhaps they'd gone to all his brothers first; arrogant fools that most of them were, they had probably not even expected the attack. Or perhaps even they had seen him coming; it is not as if he is subtle.

Did he truly believe no one could see him? Despite his magic rendering him perfect for such a position, he was one of the most pathetic spies he had ever seen. Nearly everyone knew he was a shadowsinger, so nearly everyone knew to look for him.

Eris decided to have some fun with the poor bastard. He wandered across his gardens, and sure enough, the shadows followed him. Come on, little bat. At least try to be subtle. Such a concept was foreign to Illyrians, alas. Well, bad for them. Good for Eris.

He rounded the corner before he winnowed a few feet forward, ducking in the bushes and biding his time for the shadow to approach. He noticed the shadows pivot this way and that, as though they were looking for something. Swallowing his laugh, Eris winnowed behind the shadows, wrapping an arm securely around where he guessed his waist was. There was a grunt and a curse as the shadows fought, but Eris only squeezed him tighter, letting the heat that lay beneath his veins rise to the surface, burning him ever so slightly. The male yelped, and his true form appeared. Eris whipped out his dagger and pressed it to his throat.

"Hello, Shadowsinger," Eris purred.

The prince of Autumn held Azriel against his surprisingly well-built chest, blade pressing into his neck, heat curling off his body. Warm- these gods-damned Autumn Court males were so fucking warm. Lucien had been the same way when Azriel had carried him from Winter to Night. That ember smell stuck to him like natural fucking cologne too. And their dressing style-effortless.

Azriel had been invisible, hidden by his shadows. He had no idea how Eris had caught him, but his breaths were shallow as Eris's lips came close to his ear. "Now, what could you possibly be doing here, shadowsinger? Come to see if the rumors about Autumn Court males are true, hm?"

Not expecting the innuendo, Azriel couldn't control the blush that spread across his face. Eris laughed against his neck. "So easily flustered, little bat. Worry not, I know exactly why you're here. But you see, I'm rather attached to my memories, so I think I'll be keeping them."

Azriel couldn't even speak with the knife at his throat. "No words, shadowsinger?" Eris's tone was somehow mocking and seductive at the same time. He dug his knife in a little bit deeper, drawing blood. Then he lightly ran a finger through the line of blood he'd made. Goosebumps traveled down Azriel's body.

Then Eris pulled away the knife. "Speak."

Azriel snarled and tried to break away again, and Eris tsked, returning the blade to his throat. "Tut tut, little bat. This only works if you cooperate with me. Now I need you to swear that you will not come and try to wipe my memory again, nor will you attempt to murder me, else maim me in any capacity. You will lie to your High Lord and anyone else you associate with that you successfully wiped my memory. Do you understand me?" He pulled the knife away just so. "Yes," Azriel muttered reluctantly. "Swear it," Eris murmured. Azriel's mouth didn't move.

"Swear it," Eris repeated, his voice radiating with authority. Azriel found his mouth opening subconsciously, and before he knew it, he had replied, "Yes. I swear it." Azriel and Eris both watched as new whorls of deepest blue grew on his cheek. A matching pale gold one formed on Eris's cheek, just visible upon his pale skin.

Abruptly, Eris shoved Azriel to the ground before him, and just as Azriel got to his knees, Eris pointed a sword at him. Azriel longed to punch the smirk off of his arrogant face. "No violence for you today, Illyrian brute," Eris crooned. "I know that must be so upsetting to you."

"Bastard," Azriel snapped. "Wife-abusing bastard."

Eris snorted. "Are you talking about Mor, little bat? Surely you have brain enough to understand why I left Mor outside of Autumn rather than risk saving her?"

"Because you're a coward," Azriel growled. Eris only let out a musical laugh. "Says you, shadowsinger, who lurks in the dark, hiding behind your own dark reflection. I have not come here to explain myself to Rhysand's dogs; no, I'm keeping you around for one purpose: to send a message." Azriel glared at him. "No."

Eris bent towards Azriel, and Azriel could not breathe as his warm fingers traced the new tattoo upon his cheek. "You don't have a choice, little bat. My territory, my rules. And you're bound to me by a bargain forever. Besides, I think your lord will be interested in what I have to offer."

This close to Beron's eldest son, he could see the resemblance to Lucien: the flaming red hair, naturally, but also the shape of their eyes, their lips. The dimples when they smirk. Their eyebrows. While Lucien was a handsome man with some ruggedness to him, Eris was...well he was unbelievably pretty. There was no other way to describe it. And he hated that he found Eris so attractive.

"What do you want?" Azriel hissed, letting loathing simmer in his eyes. Azriel could feel the heat of Eris's mouth against his lips as he replied, "The same thing I've wanted for the past four centuries, shadowsinger. I want my crown."

#azriel #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #azris #fanfic #acowar

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haosweater · 7 months ago

Text

waiting in the rain

content: student! seonghwa x gn! reader, fluff, angst. inspired by my neighbour totoro’s setting. warnings: mentions and descriptions of death, some swearing, description of a panic attack.

summary: you and seonghwa were determined to get out of the dreary town you lived in and move to the city. unfortunately, sometimes things just don’t go as planned.

word count: 3.3k

note: another angst with hwa in it… no, i do not enjoy making hwa stans feel pain. i enjoy hurting everyone. get it right. (i started this back in 2021 and finished it today so it’s not proof read. forgive me)

it was raining again.

staring up at the sky, you hold your umbrella steadily. the transparent film allowed you to see how beautiful the sky was. white clouds float by slowly, their mystical tears staining the earth as a reminder of their ethereal presence.

your small village was close knit, but sometimes, suffocating. the villagers led humble lives as farmers, carpenters, florist, bus drivers– everyone was content with their simple lives. well, everyone except you and—

“y/n!”

you crane your neck to the right and smile. the rain patters gently against your skin, puddles surrounding you. there was not a single car in sight, the delightful smell of rain in the air. nature thrived in your small town– your home.

that pink hair is a familiar yet comforting sight. it’s accompanied with the scent of honey and mint, a melodic voice that would make even the coldest of hearts melt. his eyes shone like the fireflies at night, smile as sweet as the flowers in his parent’s own garden. park seonghwa was the definition of perfection. well, at least to you, he was.

you and seonghwa had this little habit that everyone in the village knew about.

every morning before school, you would meet him at the bus stop behind the small stream near your house. it had been that way ever since you were five; holding hands as you walk to school merrily, basking in each other’s warm presence.

“seonghwa!” you shouted, waving at him enthusiastically as he ran up and hugged you tight. “i’ve been waiting for like, more than y en minutes, where were you?”

seonghwa giggles. “sorry! i took a shortcut that joong suggested, but it took longer than i expected.”

you feign annoyance, huffing as you crossed your arms. “come on, y/n,” he whines. “forgive me, please? i have a special place to bring you to today.”

“what is it?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you. seonghwa grins, putting a finger against his lips. “a secret? really, hwa?” you roll your eyes.

“be patient,” he nags, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the forest. you can’t help but smile, looking adoringly at your best friend.

seonghwa pulled you through the forest, helping you climb the slopes swiftly. the sounds of critters and bugs filled the air, fitting for the environment you were in. it was a peaceful journey, enjoying each other’s presence, basking in the warm sunlight. a comforting feeling filled your heart, putting a smile on your face.

you trudged across the river carefully as seonghwa laughed, splashing water at you. “hey!” you shouted, sending a splash of water his way as he shrieked. “get back here, park seonghwa!”

“catch me if you can!” he stuck his tongue out at you childishly. scooping a handful of water up, you chase after the boy, water dripping down your arms. many would fail to believe you were both almost eighteen.

tossing the water at him, you giggle in delight when he yelps, trying to run off. “oh gosh, that’s cold,” he shivers as you scoff, dismissing him.

“stop being so dramatic, hwa. you’re not going to die,” you lament as he laughs, shaking his head. “anyways, where’s this place you wanted to bring me to?”

“right here.”

you follow his gaze, and gasp in awe. the sight before you is absolutely gorgeous– an entire field of forget-me-nots. the small, baby blue flowers swayed gently in the wind, as if putting on a dance for you.

“oh my god, hwa,” you can feel the grin on his face. “this is beautiful.”

he takes your hand, fingers intertwining with yours to pull you along. “come,” he encourages you with the gentlest voice ever. “there’s so much more to see.”

the field of flowers smelt like heaven to you. it was as if you were in heaven. you weren’t complaining– seonghwa was your guardian angel and really the only person you needed in this life.

“oh, is is absolutely magical,” you say, spinning around. “how on earth did you find this place?” you ask as he giggles. oh, his giggle is a soft melody that prances in the wind like a dandelion. it’s soft, sweet, ethereal– you wanted to bathe in it forever.

his smile is a breath of fresh air. “i just happened to stumble upon it one day after school. it’s like another world, isn’t it?” his gazes into the horizon with a smile. he looks down at you, eyes filled with care and love. “i don’t know how i got so lucky.”

you blush at those words, quickly looking away. seonghwa truly knew how to render you speechless. before you could process anything further, seonghwa grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

“dance with me, y/n!”

it was like you were dreaming. your feet moved clumsily along with seonghwa’s, trying to keep up. he held your hand and spun you around, giggling as you held onto his arms tightly. “don’t drop me!” you squeak as he dipped you down.

his face was extremely close as he leaned to press his forehead against you. “i’d never even dream of dropping you,” as you bathed in the warmth of the sun. you never wanted to wake up from this dream.

after prancing around in the flower field for a few hours, giggling and whispering sweet nothings to each other, you and seonghwa had to part ways.

“must you go?” you ask, a hint of sadness in your voice.

he gives you a soft, yet sad smile. “it’s okay, y/n,” he caress your cheek with the back of his hand. “i’ll see you again soon.” he pulls you into a hug and you melt into it, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. he smelled like vanilla and strawberries, a sweet concoction that made you dizzy with delight.

you pull away and try to mask your disappointment with a smile. he chuckles, ruffling your hair in a playful manner.

slinging your bag over your shoulder, you turn and wave to him. the boy waves back, walking further and further down the road. even after the pink of his hair disappears into the fog, you stare into the abyss.

“y/n?”

you spin around, surprised by the two voices you hear behind you. “oh! joong! yunho!” you smile as they wave at you. “what are you guys doing here?”

the blue haired male shrugged, stealing some chips from the taller boy who sent him a glare. “hey, y/n. school ended early today so we were on our way to that new cafe that opened,” yunho explained, offering you some chips.

“oh, shit, wait a minute,” hongjoong grumbled as he fished through his bag hurriedly. “we got our exam results today.”

yunho snickered at the elder male’s frantic behaviour. “our poor class president here was tasked to hand you your papers,” he nudged hongjoong who threw him a glare.

“where were you today, y/n?” hongjoong asked, handing you a stack of papers. “you got the highest marks for literature again,” he winked at you, pushing his thick-framed glasses up.

yunho sighs. “yeah, and i failed math. again,” he kicks a rock into the stream, watching as it sinks. “fantastic.”

you giggle “i was out in the forest with seonghwa the whole day,” you grin at the two boys. “we ended up venturing deeper past the stream and found a whole field of forget-me-nots.”

the taller male shoots you a confused look, shoving his hand into the packet of chips. hongjoong sighs and glances behind you. “y/n–”

“oh! i need to get home!” you glance at your watch. “my parents are going to kill me if i’m out past curfew. see you guys tomorrow!” you shout while running off as hongjoong let out a deep sigh.

“what on earth was she talking about? is she still…?” yunho’s voice trailed off.

hongjoong looks up at him, unsure. “yeah. i don’t know how to… i don’t…” he sighs yet again as yunho pats his shoulder.

“we’ll figure it out, hyung,” the brunette says softly. “it’ll take time, you of all people should know that.”

the older male can only bite his lip and nod, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. he knew all too well. truth be told, he hated that he knew it.

it’ll take time.

the next day, you woke up excitedly, hoping it would be a sunny morning. the soft pitter patter of rain disappointed you, but still, you got up.

you still got up.

as you got dressed, you texted seonghwa, informing him that you would be waiting at the bus stop. it was sort of dreary, really. that road was particularly hard to navigate in the rain, but you both knew it well enough– it was the road you trudged along every day.

opening your umbrella, you bid farewell to your parents before skipping out the door. the rain didn’t diminish your spirits. sure, a thick coat of melancholy rested upon your soul, but your heart reigned over it.

you skipped over puddles, skillfully avoiding the splashes cars speeding by created. humming a soft tune, you looked up at the sky with a smile. everything was going to be okay, as long as seonghwa was there. you knew it’d be okay.

as you approach the bus stop, you spot a figure standing near it. with a grin, you begin to walk faster, calling out your friend’s name. the rain was a extremely persistent, however, easily overpowering your voice. you inhaled a deep breath, ready to shout his name again, but stop.

instead of the usual pink hair, you see a head of blue.

hongjoong.

“what are you doing here, joong?” you ask, approaching slowly. he doesn’t reply, and you think he hadn’t heard you.

so you move even closer, about to call out to him again. it’s only when you kick a puddle of water, drenching your shoes that you realise hongjoong is standing in the rain, absolutely drenched. “hongjoong!” you stand up and grab his wrist. “you’re going to get sick!”

before you can do anything, he pulls you towards him instead. dropping your umbrella, you feel the rain begin to soak you, the cold feeling of water dripping down your skin engulfing you whole.

you let out a gasp, about to glare at the boy, but don’t. hongjoong was crying.

“j-joong?” you stutter out in shock. “what’s going on? why are you crying?”

“i’m sorry.”

hongjoong’s voice comes out as a whisper. he sounds so small, so meek, so timid– it genuinely terrifies you. never had hongjoong shown such a vulnerable side of himself.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he wails, knees giving out. “i’m sorry, y/n– it’s all my fault, i’m so sorry.”

his nails dig into your skin as he gasps for air. confused, you were trying to make sense of what hongjoong was saying. what was his fault?

what had hongjoong done that weighed so painfully on his conscious? why was such a bitter confession slipping off his tongue, to fill only your ears? a deep, profoundly vile feeling filled your throat.

your vision strayed from hongjoong.

when did the path look so dreary? so dark and lonely? this road was one that had filled your memories with joy, comfort, love and warmth. the sight of your best friend running down the gravel, careful to not slip clouded your mind. his pink hair bounced softly, his mere presence more radiating than the sun itself. the droplets of rain running down his face, that contagious, goofy grin of his— that was what you saw when you looked down this road, and yet… and yet it looked so different now. what had changed—

“he’s not coming back, he’s gone— he’s dead, y/n, and it’s all my fault!’

hongjoong’s wails startle you slightly. you’d never heard him sound so broken like that. “what are you talking about, hongjoong?” you say ever-so gently, taking his calloused hands into yours. he is almost inconsolable, his sobs and wails echoing alongside the soft pattering of rain.

the blue-haired boy looked up at you, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “seonghwa is gone, y/n,” hongjoong’s voice is raspy, dry and aching. “please, y/n, you have to realise that he is gone.”

you sigh, rubbing your thumb gently over his knuckles. pushing his hair back, he sobs even harder. you allow him to muzzle his face into the crook of your neck, his tears staining your skin. the clouds thundered and roared at you both, as denial seeped deep into your veins.

no, seonghwa wasn’t gone.

“oh, joong, he’s not gone,” you whisper, stroking his head gently. “he’s taking the shortcut you showed him here–”

“no, y/n– he dead!”

hongjoong’s voice rang in your ear as he pushed you back. you look at him, the way he trembled from the cold. “he fell into the river along the shortcut i showed him and drowned, y/n! he’s dead!”

everything was a blur for a moment. the world went silent. the rain ceased. even hongjoong disappeared. nothing seemed to matter, except processing what he had just said.

seonghwa was dead.

“n-no,” you stutter out, a migraine beginning to form at the side of your head. “no, joong, you must be mistaken,” you blurt out, laughing nervously. “i just saw hwa yesterday–”

“y/n, please,” joong begged, holding your hands tightly. “he died last month, y/n, you need to accept that. he’s gone.

flashbacks. a flurry of memories came crashing onto you at the speed of light as you winced, grabbing your head in pain. the funeral, the crying, the coldness, the pain, the loneliness, the grief– it all came crashing down.

“no,” you whispered, clawing at your scalp. “no, no, no, hwa,” you gasped as hongjoong sobbed. “oh my god, no, this can’t be!” you shout, looking at your friend, hoping this was just a sick joke.

the look on his face told you it wasn’t.

staring at him, your body felt numb yet completely overwhelmed at the same time. your heart pounded against your chest, words stuck at the back of your throat. you didn’t know what to say, nor what to do.

so you ran.

hongjoong’s voice trailed off as you sped down the forest path. you ran as fast as your feet could carry you. as you passed the river, you glance at it, the image of seonghwa’s face flashing in your mind. you wince, tears streaming down your face as you pulled your gaze away.

you continued to run. the sounds of twigs snapped under your weight, leaves rustled as you ran through the woods. your chest heaved as you struggled to breathe, completely exhausted.

and yet, you kept running. you refused to stop. you refused to stop until you saw it. you refused to stop until you got to–

you stopped.

the flower field.

“seonghwa!” you shouted, tears streaming down your cheeks. you were breathless, sweat dripping down your forehead. “park seonghwa!”

the desperation laced in your voice was heart-wrenching. it was raw and scratchy, and painful. you spun from left to right, praying that when you turned around, seonghwa would be standing there, alive and well.

unfortunately, you only got half of what you wished for.

seonghwa stood before you. pink hair, pink lips, soft and kind eyes– indeed, that was park seonghwa.

but he was not alive.

you cannot stand to look at him. you choke back a sob, hand clamping over your mouth as you turn away. you knew that if you looked at him, you wouldn’t be able to control your tears.

“you have to let me go, y/n.”

it’s funny how his words sounded so different despite its familiarity. you turn to your left and stare at the pink haired boy who smiles, tears streaming down his ghostly pale cheeks.

“you need to let me go.”

damp cheeks. quivering lips. fists clenched so hard, they turned white. the air was still, tension thick. it was hard to breathe. you held seonghwa’s hands tightly, worried that he’d slip away the moment you let go.

“how can i?” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. “i can’t let you go, hwa. not when i’ve spent my whole life with you. how do i live this new life when all i’ve known is one with you?”

the boy smiles. it’s a sad, pitiful smile. you hate it. “you need to, y/n. i’ll always be here– in the trees, the flowers, the breeze,” he trails off. “in your heart.”

“but i need you here with me,” you sob. “how am i to go on without you? i’d wait in the rain for you forever, hwa. i cannot live without you.”

the tears that rolled down hwa’s cheeks shone like stars. “you’ll have to learn, y/n. time will heal you,” his breath is shaky and uncertain. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, hands cupping your cheeks.

you shake your head, putting your hands over his. “no, don’t apologise. please,” you beg, looking up at him. you stared into his eyes, biting your lip to stop it from trembling.

his thumb brushes against your lip gently, eyebrows furrowed. “don’t do that,” he whispered. “you’re hurting yourself.”

your grip on his shirt tightened as you stare into his eyes. god, how could fate be so cruel? why would the gods curse you with such tragic destiny?

the boy wiped your tears away, his own tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. you nuzzled your face into his hands, your gaze filled with desperation and desire.

with that, seonghwa swooped down and kissed you.

you held onto him tightly, kissing him back with the desperation that clung to you so desperately. he tasted divine– like white chocolate and strawberries.

you could feel his tears fall, your own following suite, but you refused to pull away. this is something you had wanted for the longest time, and you weren’t about to let it slip away.

alas, all good things have to end. you panted, forehead pressed against his. “don’t go, hwa,” you plead. “please.”

he lets out a sad laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead in an attempt to console you. “i have to, y/n,” he hums. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

you look up frantically at the sight of seonghwa fading away. “no! hwa, please, please!” you cry out, grasping onto him.. “what about all our plans, hwa? to leave this place? to get an apartment in the city? to live our life to the fullest together forever? what about all that?”

seonghwa was full on sobbing now, trying to hold onto you as well. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m sorry, please hold me,” he begged and you hugged him tightly. “i love you, y/n,” he confesses. “god, i love you. you are the light of my life– my god-given solace. you’re my soulmate, y/n, and i’m so, so sorry. please forgive me– god, please.”

“seonghwa,” you whimper, holding onto him as he finally faded away. he had become one with the wind, the earth, the water– he was gone.

park seonghwa, your best friend, soulmate, and love of your life, was gone.

you let out a chocked sob, knees giving way as you fell to the ground. your pants were soaked with rain water and mud, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“i didn’t get to tell you i love you too.”

as the rain began to fall once again, you sat at the bus stop behind the stream. this small town was once a place you and seonghwa had always dreamed of leaving, but now you knew.

this dreary small town of yours, would consume your soul, as it did, his.

#ateez 🎱#ateez #ateez fics #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez angst #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #mei’s ✍️

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kingtrash-fox · 11 months ago

Text

Smiling Critters headcanons while I continue my C&C AU

This is for the 5 people who want to actually read the damn thing and anyone who likes the Smiling Critters

(Note: Might contain a bit of Shipping. This is about the Cartoon characters not the Toys)

🟥🟧🟨🟩🟦🟪🟥🟧🟨🟩🟦🟪🟥🟧🟨🟩

If any of the critters have to go to the doctor whether it’s for a checkup or something you need to have like 8 plans in place for both Catnap and Dogday. You can make a life a bit easier on yourself if you schedule them together but they will still refuse regardless. Only Bubba has the knowledge to contain them.

Kickin has broken both arms and legs at least once and it’s always when he’s doing a stunt.

(Warning:Platonic Shipping): Catnap and Dogday have licked each other (Mainly cause it’s a way to show affection , and a way to bond for actual Cats and Dogs) on the forehead on a handful of occasions. Bobby and Bubba are the only ones who know what this means and are the only ones grinning while everyone looks at them like madmen.

Hoppy has the absolute worst schedule of the critters going to bed at 4 am on average and waking up at 8:30 am and somehow is a functional Critter daily. Catnap and Picky work together to give them a better sleep schedule.

No one in that friend group is Straight. I don’t make the rules.

Picky is the 2nd messiest eater of the group being beaten by Crafty who is just as messy with her food as she is with her craft supplies. Like if she has spaghetti she will have sauce just all over her no matter WHAT you do.

(Quick note for some HC Like the Above: Some of these are just for the funny and not to be taken seriously. Please don’t attack me)

Hide and seek champion of the Critters is Hoppy mainly cause they hide in places not even Kickin would think of.

Bubba and Catnap actually share the same house being a tree and a Treehouse on top respectively. Whenever Dogday visits Catnap a platform drops by Bubbas front door so he doesn’t have to cut through his house to get to Catnaps.

Bobby is the hugging type of friend. Catnap actively dosent like being hugged by anyone except Dogday. Bobby mostly respects this except in moments of joy where she just hugs whoever is closest and frequently it happens to be Catnap.

Everyone besides Picky and Kickin have monstrous sweet tooth’s to the point where if you locked them in a bakery overnight it will be cleared out by morning.

Catnap is nonverbal except around Dogday. If he’s talking to the audience he will speak but it’s like Garfield logic aka no mouth movement and only he will hear it.

Going back to Crafty being messy she once got stuck to a wall because of glue for 2 days. Everyone assumed she was just working on a project that weekend.

(Shipping warning) For the longest time everyone assumed Dogday and Catnap were just friends till Catnap just kissed Dogday on the cheek and everyone went NUTS

Edit cause I just came up with this one: On the night of the Storm a little bit before it hit Catnap are a weird mushroom and gained the ability to put people to sleep. Everyone wanted him to sing a lullaby but didn’t expect a gas attack. He fell asleep a few minutes after his friends.

#my headcanons #poppy playtime #Poppy Playtime chapter 3 #Smiling Critters #Catnap #Dogday #kickinchicken #picky piggy #hoppy hopscotch #bubba bubbaphant #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #catnap x dogday

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obae-me · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, are you taking requests? I really like your one-shots, they really help me in learning how to write emotions. So, what about the Demon Brothers getting injured for some reason (either because Lucifer punished them, or they were attacked by some creature, got into a fight, etc.), and MC notices it, even with the Demons best attempt to hide it, and decide to take care of the injuries. At first the boys are embarrassed and reluctant to accept their help, but quickly gave up and let MC take care of them. 👉👈

Anon...this is a beautiful request. I love love love hurt/comfort, especially whump tropes like these. I will absolutely do this. 100% I will do this, no questions asked.

Although I owe you an apology because...this is another instance of mine where I take things...way too far...I should’ve known when I was almost 6000 words deep and had only briefly gone over three brothers, that I was in over my head once again...so...this is a big one...really big...well maybe not that big by fic standards, I don’t really know what the average fic holds...Anyways, enjoy!

Rest Easy. I’m Here.

Word Count: 16,038

Warnings: Blood, Broken Bones, Bruises, Vomiting, Cuts, Concussions, Injury, Medication Use. A lot of general hurt for this hurt/comfort.

(Please pay no mind to the fact that all these little picture banners are cropped slightly different sizes, consistency was never my strong suit.)

As Always, Read Safely! Please Enjoy!

“Someone get Asmo!”

“Satan, look out!”

“My lord, Mammon can't dodge forever. He’s running out of stamina.”

“Beel, don’t be stupid! Don’t be a hero, ya idiot! Beel!”

“Belphie, take him away!”

“Levi!”

“Diavolo…we’re becoming overwhelmed, you need to leave.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You are royalty, and as such, I have to – Diavolo, move!”

“Lucifer!”

“They’ve been gone for a while…” You put down your D.D.D., placing it in your lap, a sigh coming from your chest as you stared at the front door to the House of Lamentation. How long had you waited here now, a few hours? Nearly felt like days. Every taunting tick of the clock twisted a new knot in your stomach. You knew they could take care of themselves, obviously they could. Their Deadly Sin titles weren’t just for show. There was probably very little they couldn’t handle, especially when they were all together…but…then why were they still not home? The moon might be ever-constant, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t extremely late. It was beginning to stretch into the early hours of the day now.

They all had been suddenly called to meet Diavolo, Lucifer’s phone ringing at dinner, the prince summoning them immediately. Plates half-empty, they left. Now their dinner had gone cold…and so had the House. You couldn’t help but worry. It wasn’t too often all of them were needed at once, leaving you alone in this large and quiet mansion. None of them had answered your messages either, something else that was rather uncommon. Levi surely had his phone on him at all times, and Lucifer was pretty swift in responding to you as well, and despite Mammon’s fervent denial, he always leapt at his phone whenever you messaged him. But no, nothing. Just silence…Even the nocturnal critters outside appeared to abandon you, unable to hear their nightly cries.

As your head tilted back, resting against the wall of the entrance-hall, you nearly drifted off. You had been sitting there for quite a while after all. If you did fall asleep, it made time warp, only feeling like a second, or perhaps it had just been rather perfect timing. The doors swung open, cold night air rushing gusting inside, the wind outside whistling as seven demons stumbled into the house. You scrambled to your feet, almost dropping your D.D.D. you’d left in your lap. Luckily you managed to catch it, shoving it in your pocket. “Welcome back!” Suddenly, the tenseness in your shoulders seemed to lift, the lungs in your chest not as tight. You could breathe easy now.

They all looked tired, but quickly grinned as they noticed you...well a few of them did at least…actually only two of them. The others stuck to the shadows. “We’re back!” Asmo raised his arms in celebration, sounding much like normal to you, and yet…something felt…off. Maybe he was just exhausted, they had been out for hours at this point.

“Sorry...we…took so long,” Satan spoke up, speaking at a strangely slow pace. Levi, not even looking at you, scrambled up the stairs to his room before he could speak. The demon of Wrath held his arms behind his back, a stance he hardly ever took, using his body to block off your view of Envy. “We got…caught up…in Student Council work.”

“You did not need to wait for us,” Lucifer tilted his head…but even he seemed to not look at you quite as directly as he usually did. There was an odd air about him, a look in his eyes like he just remembered something he had forgotten. “It is late for us all. Let’s…get…” His voice got quieter and softer with each word. It seemed as if he was losing the energy to even form words, his head drooping ever so slightly. “...Some rest. You as well,” he addressed you, using an arm to usher his other brothers in the direction towards their rooms, some of them lowering their head from you strangely, some of them supporting the others up the stairs.

None of them said anything else, and before you could even appreciate them all being home…they were gone.

You had hoped the next morning, at breakfast, that things would return to normal. After sleeping it off, certainly the weirdness you had felt in the air would dissipate. Unfortunately…that did not seem to be the case. Most of the brothers didn’t even show up to breakfast. The only ones to arrive were Beel, Asmo, and Satan. Everyone else was gone. Asmo, with a smile over his face, tried to assure you all was well. “They’re probably still sleeping! Last night was a long night after all!”

You raised an eyebrow, a little offended that they were clearly keeping something from you, but more worried than anything. “None of you are wearing your uniforms today,” you noticed, jutting the end of your utensil towards Satan and his common clothes, finding it difficult to eat your morning meal.

Beel, after shoving a plateful in his mouth, somehow more voracious than usual, licked his lips and nodded his head at you comfortingly. “Diavolo gave us the day off.”

“You can still head to classes though,” Satan chimed in. You noticed he was only using one arm to eat breakfast today. It was an odd detail to notice, but one you spotted nonetheless as he struggled to cut this morning’s pancakes. He always used a knife and a fork like a proper person, always getting irritated when someone else like Mammon would wedge the fork back-and-forth, tearing off the pieces and shoving it into his mouth. Now Satan was doing the very thing he ridiculed others for.

Suddenly settling your utensils down, you straightened your back. “I think I’ll stay home too.”

Each of the brothers looked at each other, flickering secret messages between them with only their eyes. Satan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, subtly wincing as he shrugged his shoulders. The next thing he said was the final nail in the coffin. Hell had frozen over today apparently. Either that or something was terribly, dreadfully wrong. “I don’t think Lucifer would like that very much.”

“You never care what Lucifer thinks!” You suddenly shouted, a sick feeling in your stomach, your insides doing flips with anxiety. “What’s wrong with you all?”

Apparently you surprised them all with your outburst more than you intended to. Beel suddenly started coughing, bending over in his seat. You stood up quickly, afraid he had started to choke, but Asmo beat you, making it to his little brother’s side in a rush. “Breathe, Beel, breathe…Eat slower, you can’t handle going too fast right now.” You could hear the faint wheeze in Beel’s voice, the pain in his lungs obvious, his arms hugging his own body. And yet, they still wouldn’t tell you. Not even when it was so abhorrently obvious that something had happened last night. The brother’s voices sounded muffled to your ears now, the stress fogging your senses. You faintly recalled Satan going up to take Beel to his room, Asmo the only one left. The demon of Lust cleared up the plates, doing so hoping you wouldn’t notice the way he gripped the tops of the chairs, guiding himself back to the kitchen with a hand pressed against the wall, limping.

You had intended to remain steadfast in your stubbornness. If they weren’t going to go to classes, why should you? After all, you had stayed up almost all night, restless with worry. However, any dreams you had of staying home were dashed as the haunting doorbell to the House rang. None of the brothers were likely to answer it, and if it was a package or something of that nature, someone should probably grab it for them. Although, you knew well in the back of your mind that hardly any mail was delivered this early in the day. The idea of a package was better than more bad-news, you figured. You shuffled your way out of the dining room, rather downtrodden, opening the front door without preparing yourself to look a little less depressed.

“MC?” You weren’t expecting to hear your name spoken by a voice so familiar. Taking a few blinks, you brought yourself out of the little slump you were in. “Is everything alright?” Simeon frowned, taking another step closer to the entrance.

You had to quickly grin, although you knew it came off rather weak. “Just didn’t sleep a lot last night. What are you doing here?”

A little figure jumped out from behind Simeon, almost like it was meant to surprise you. “We’re here to go to RAD together!” Luke beamed. He seemed so pleased, absolutely beside himself with joy at even just this simple thing. How did he never realize why everyone called him cute?

The third figure outside nodded, waving at you in greeting. “Imagine our surprise when, out of the blue, all of us receive a text from Lucifer of all people, telling us to bring you to RAD.” Solomon looked quite pleased with himself. Although, that only made you feel warier. So none of them knew what was going on either?

Simeon was the only one who seemed to share your confusion. “It’s not everyday that he asks for favors.”

“It didn’t seem like a favor to me,” Luke scowled, unfortunately coming off more like a pout than anything. He folded his arms. “It was practically an order.”

“Regardless of the reason,” Solomon waved his hand through the air, moving away from the brothers as the topic at hand. “Are you all ready to go?” He looked at you with a glint in his eye. That feeling in your gut still remained, but was slightly lessened. At the very least, the members of Purgatory Hall were as they usually were. Any form of normality you could get was gladly accepted. You nodded, taking a step forward and shutting the door of the House behind you.

Simeon outstretched a hand towards you, perhaps sensing that you were feeling a bit down. You took it, feeling the warmth in his palms spread over you like a comforting blanket. Was it angelic magic or just simply his presence that calmed you so? “Don’t worry,” the angel attempted to assuage your anxiety. “If it were something threatening, Diavolo would certainly tell you about it, wouldn’t he?”

Based on his track record…not really. Not as quickly as you would like him to anyway. Mysteries and riddles and royal duty be damned. You’d have to talk to the prince.

You were one second away from knocking on the door to the student council office before it opened for you. Barbatos welcomed you with a calming grin, lowering his head in a little respectful bow as you stepped into the room. “We’ve been expecting you.” As the door shut behind you, you felt your shoulder gently touched by the butler’s gloved hand. He wasn’t often one to express emotion, or perhaps you’d gotten to know him well enough to tell that the slight lift to his brows was one of sympathy. “I’ve already prepared some tea as well as Devarian Cream Eclairs.” In a blink, he was over by a little table, pulling a seat out for you as Diavolo remained seated on the other side, waving you over with a grin, although even from here you could notice that his usual dazzling and thrilled smile was subdued.

“You knew I was coming?” You took a few tentative steps before settling yourself in the chair, your hands rubbing themselves anxiously in your lap.

Diavolo was the one who spoke up this time, nodding a bit as the corners of his mouth tugged downwards. “If I know my student council, you probably have many questions regarding last night, don’t you?”

Your mouth felt a bit dry, and so you picked up the little teacup, smelling the sweet aroma before taking a little sip. “They didn’t tell me anything…” The teacup made a gentle noise as it settled back down on the table. You turned your head up at the prince, a pleading look in your eyes. You may not have had a pact with him and he might’ve been royalty while you were just a human, but you were hoping that the person sitting in front of you was not just the Demon Lord but Diavolo, your, dare you say, friend. Surely, he would answer your honest question. “Will you tell me what happened?”

There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he spoke, and while Barbatos was naturally quiet, there was an eerie sort of silence about him, one that was abnormally noticeable. Diavolo paused but then explained everything to you. Apparently, every few millennia, an ancient Devildom Beast rises from its deep hibernation to feast. Left unchecked, it can go on a rampage, causing needless destruction and chaos. It typically follows a very regular schedule, the brothers and Diavolo able to create a plan and barrier to keep the monster away from civilization. However, without any warning, it suddenly arose, centuries early. No one could figure out why, and deep in your soul you wondered if this was somehow your fault. Strange things always happened when you were around, after all. Although, you knew it was rather silly to blame yourself for something like this. “Without any preparation, we were all forced to subdue it ourselves…and refusing it to feed naturally made it quite aggressive. There were…casualties…Forgive me.”

Barbatos finally took a breath, shuffling a little closer to the prince. “Young Master–”

“I will take the blame for this,” Diavolo, despite the guilt, raised his head proudly. “It was under my orders that this happened. And it was because I was there that–” He cut himself off as the words caught in his throat, something the prince was not known for. He couldn’t seem to finish his statement, but you could connect the dots. Here he was, hardly a hair out of place like usual. He had been protected. You knew the others, especially Lucifer, would do whatever it took to keep Diavolo safe. Before you really knew you were doing it, your body urged itself out of your seat, wrapping your arms against Diavolo’s body. You heard Barbatos take a sharp intake of air before letting it out in a gentle sigh. Normally, such actions like these towards the prince would’ve been unheard of, perhaps punishable even. You didn’t often like to think you were being given special treatment, but in this case, you were glad you were able to do something like give Diavolo this little embrace. You felt him chuckle, the power of his lungs rattling your ribs. He took your arms and lowered them, the smile back on his face, although perhaps a bit embarrassed that someone such as he needed an action as common as a hug to make him feel better. “I was hoping you would come see me, seeing as I have a favor to ask of you.”

“A favor?”

With a little nod, he glanced at Barbatos who helped you back to your seat, the butler’s hand settled on the back of your neck for just a moment, his subtle version of a thank-you. The prince cleared his throat, looking at you seriously. “I’d like you to help care for the brothers till they are back in good health. Knowing them, they’ll hide away from any of us till they are back to normal. Lucifer might be Pride, but it seems as if the stubbornness runs through all their veins. But you…they have a soft spot for you, even Lucifer.” There was a flicker of jealousy behind Diavolo’s eyes. Yes, they were close, but Lucifer’s respect would always hinge that tiny social barrier between them. “Besides, they might heal quicker with you by their side, and that’s beneficial for everyone involved. I know…it might be a lot to ask, but would you be willing to do this for me?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “After everything we’ve all already gone through, do you even need to ask?” How many times had you been the one to clean up a mess caused by some magical or mischievous misfortune? And almost always, you were the only one unaffected by it all, always waiting for the others to return to normal. “I had planned on doing that anyway.”

He closed his eyes as he sighed. “I had a feeling, but I never like to assume. I’m glad, though... If there’s anything Barbatos and I can do to assist you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“There is one thing,” you brought up, making the prince raise an eyebrow. “Can Barbatos make me a portal home?” Learning all this information suddenly made you feel antsy, practically itching to be back in the House’s familiar halls. “I feel like I’ve already been away from them long enough. I want to be there for them now.”

Out of everyone, you figured Asmo would be the least likely to turn you away. He loved being pampered, and he seemed perhaps the most normal of the bunch. Besides, he might be willing to shed some more light on what happened to the others…and the severity of their injuries. You tried not to let the silence of the house overwhelm you as you prepared a little tray to take to Asmo. You filled it with lots of helpful but adorable things. A little yogurt cup with glistening and juicy fruits, an herbal tea that Barbatos recommended that was a rosy pink, a little vial of Devildom Medicine that you put a few stickers on in an attempt to make it ‘aesthetic’, and a few other things you just grabbed since you had no idea what Asmo was going through. Tray settled against your hip, you knocked on Asmo’s door.

There was silence for a moment, but then a whine on the other end. “Whaaat? I’m trying to recover as much as you all are too, you know! Don’t make me get up.”

It was clear to you that he assumed you were one of his brothers. You suddenly showing up might not be as thrilling of a surprise as you had thought it would be. “I can come in if you’d like.”

Clattering could be suddenly heard from inside, a whimper of pain was made before the door swung open vivaciously, Asmo, wearing a silky nightgown, was leaning against the doorframe with one leg tucked behind the other. “MC, hun! What’re you doing home?” His eyes flashed down to the tray you were carrying. His smile faded, his bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. “Ah…Who told you?”

“Diavolo.” You snuck past him in his room, settling the tray on the end of his bed. “He didn’t tell me absolutely everything though.” You suddenly turned around a hand on your hip. “What’s wrong with you? Out with it?” I sound too much like Lucifer, you thought to yourself.

Much like you were expecting, Asmo gave in almost instantly, his eyes turning glossy with tears. He shut the door and moved away from the doorframe, one of his feet curled away from the ground. As you looked at his left leg, you noticed that from the knee all the way down, Asmo’s skin was covered in bruises, the tone to his complexion a different blend of purple, yellow, black, and even red. It was swollen. “It hurts…” The little crack in his voice broke your heart. You came over to him, offering your support as he settled an arm around your shoulders. You helped him limp back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his neck.

“Why didn’t any of you tell me?” You shook your head a bit, looking down with a mixture of concern and disappointment.

“And have you look at me this way?” A tear slid from the corner of his eye. You unconsciously brushed it away, his face leaning into your touch. “Just look at it…it’s hideous! I never wanted you to ever see me this way…”

“Asmo…injuries happen.” You traced little hearts into his shoulder before you stood, getting to work. Grabbing some throw pillows from various pieces of furniture, you brought them next to his injured leg. “Can you lift it?” With a wince, he grabbed at his left thigh, lifting up his leg enough for you to place the pillows under. With a little flourish, you covered him with a blanket. “I brought you medicine. Barbatos said this kind should help with the pain. I also made you a little snack. You need to be well fed and rested. Do you want me to grab you some ice-packs?”

The ever-usual confident Asmo appeared a bit meek at the treatment. “Yes…please. I tried going back downstairs for them but…”

“No more getting out of bed,” you demanded. “You’ll just make it worse.” With a few steps, you moved over to the nightstand, grabbing the tray and settling it right next to Asmo. One of your hands brushed Asmo’s hair from his face. “I’ll be right back.” Some pink flared in his cheeks at your stern orders, but he didn’t stop you from rushing downstairs to try to find something to ice his leg with. Unfortunately, if the House did have ice-packs, they weren’t in the freezer. So, desperate measures called for frozen vegetables. You found a little hand towel in the kitchen, wrapping the pack up in that before heading back upstairs. You were pleased to find that he was in the middle of eating his snack with a little grin on his face.

“MC…you’re so precious,” he praised you, almost purring at the mere sight of you. “You’ll be my nurse till I’m all better, right?” It was his best attempt at sounding like usual, but even the flirtatiousness of it was muted. He simply sounded exhausted. He settled down the little bowl as his arms outstretched towards you, waiting for you to come over and hug him. You placed yourself against his hip on the bed, letting him wrap his arms around you. His nose settled against the base of your neck, practically absorbing your affection as additional sustenance. Who knows? Maybe it did work that way for demons. Maybe they quite literally sucked the life out of you. Maybe that’s why Diavolo seemed to think they’d heal faster with you around. Little parasites…You parted from him after a while, holding the cold pack in your hands.

“I’m going to place this on you. Are you ready?” You waited till he nodded before you settled the weight on his injured leg, covering his ankle and the better part of his calf. He winced, but after a minute, seemed a bit more relieved. You took this moment to curl up at his side, stroking his hair, watching the more strained and exhausted lines in his face fade. “Will you tell me more about what happened? I want to take care of all of you the best that I can, but I can’t do that if I don’t know anything.”

“It all happened so fast…” He tried to snuggle into you without moving too much. “We were all just fighting to calm it down, but I got knocked out of the air and…it trampled my leg. I don’t remember the last time I felt so much pain. But, even so, I think I got away the luckiest…” Your poor boys…You knew that…as a human, you would’ve been little to no help in such a situation like that anyway, but still, you felt a little guilty that you weren’t there in the moment to try to help them. “I don’t know what happened to everyone, it’s still all a blur. I blacked out for a bit…but I think Satan has a broken arm. Maybe he knows more than I do.”

“Really?” Your gasp almost sounded breathless. “What do demons usually do for broken bones?”

Asmo slowly shook his head. “We don’t need much. I’m sure he’s already got it wrapped up. It should only take a few days to go back to normal. He’s probably upset that he can’t read his books very well, though.” After talking for so long, he whined a bit, trying to pull you closer. “It’s so cold…”

You moved your arm to shift the ice-pack to a different part of his injured leg, letting him hold you so he could absorb your body warmth. “You should take that medicine soon and then get some rest,” you encouraged. “Sleep is often the most important step to recovery.” Asmo simply made a little whine, vocalizing his disappointment but unable to disagree. At the risk of never being able to leave his room again, you planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll have my D.D.D. on me, so if you need anything else, just call or message me.” You tucked the blanket tighter around him, guiding his arms away from you and down to the bed. Despite him usually distressing over his hair, he smiled when a few of your fingers brushed through the strands atop his head, his eyelids flickering, like even such a simple gesture was coaxing him to rest. “Meds then beds, Asmo,” you repeated once more, watching him blush at the childish-sounding mantra. You got to your feet, making sure the lights in the room were dim. “I’ll be back to check on you later…Feel better.”

You watched him blow you a kiss before you left, heading in the direction of Satan’s room.

Satan would be a risky one. You had no way of knowing if his injuries would keep him from being angry or if they would make him even angrier. Not to mention he’s not the most vulnerable of the brothers. He had already tried to hide his broken arm from you –although rather poorly. However, at breakfast, he did seem rather calm about everything. Even breaking character and telling you to go to classes just to keep Lucifer in a good mood. Definitely not like Satan. Which either meant Wrath’s injuries were bothering him so much, he couldn’t even be angry towards Lucifer…or…what if Lucifer had been hurt enough to…No. He didn’t seem that bad when he addressed you in the entrance hall. Lucifer had almost seemed normal. There was no way Satan would worry about his older brother over mild wounds.

Ah, but thinking about this was keeping you from what you should actually be doing, which was action! You might’ve been stalling a little bit, worried that as soon as you knocked on Satan’s door, his demon form would rush through. Fortune favors the bold, you recited in your head, hoping it would work as a spell of sorts. You knocked on Satan’s door, only just now realizing that you didn’t prepare or bring anything with you like you had done for Asmo. Although, maybe it was for the best. If you had come in with armfuls of stuff you thought he would need, trying to fuss over him, it would probably irritate him. He’d just have to tell you what he needed himself.

There was no answer. Should you head in yourself?...No, that might be a death sentence. Should you announce yourself? But then would he even open the door if he knew it was you? He’d probably just shout back ‘there’s nothing to worry about’ or even ‘do you think I’m incapable of taking care of myself’. So you knocked once more, remaining quiet, trying to strain your ears to see if you could hear even just the faintest of pages moving. Of course, just as you were pressing your ear up against the door, the entire thing rattled. Even the doorframe shuddered. “Go away!”

Well…so much for your hopes of him not being angry. What did you really expect? His title was Wrath. You shuffled on your feet for a moment, lingering by the door. Knocking a third time might set him off…maybe you should say it was you right as you opened the door. Or maybe–

“I can still hear you!” The voice in his chest rumbled, a strong aura approaching rapidly from the other side. “I swear to Diavolo, whoever it is better be gone in five seconds before I teach you what it means to –” The door opened so violently, the air almost sucked you forward.

You jumped back, already giving your apologies. “Don’t be mad! I came back home because I heard what happened, and I already checked on Asmo and he told me that you got hurt and that I should check on you, and –”

“MC?” The aura of fury mostly faded, the door partially shutting again as you assumed Satan was trying to hide the injured arm behind the wood. “What’re you doing at home? We told you to go to classes!”

“I said don’t be mad!”

Satan took a deep breath, a little glare staring at you from through the crack in the open door. “You said that Asmo told you what happened?” Well, technically Diavolo was the first one to tell you, Asmo giving more details but…now was not the time to argue over semantics. “And he told you to come check on me?” You nodded, thinking naively that maybe Satan would be touched that his brother was concerned about him. Instead, a darkness clouded his eyes, the door opening once more, only this time, Satan stormed out, fully intent on marching down the hall, probably to give Asmo his personal feelings on the matter.

Without thinking about it, you grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling on it with as much strength as a human could muster. “Stop! He’s hurt enough already! I just put him to bed! If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at me!”

Satan’s feet stopped, of his own free will obviously, seeing as you were probably not impeding his progress as much as you were hoping. You stood your ground, although a little bit shakily, and your eyes finally noticed his arm. He, as you and Asmo both expected, had already treated it to the best of his abilities. It was wrapped in bandages that even you could tell were soaked in something magical, and it was resting in a makeshift sling he had seemingly made out of one of his pillowcases. It had several different adorable cats on it, which was a strange contrast to the furious look he was giving you. “First you scream at me to not be mad, and now you’re telling me to direct my wrath towards you instead of Asmo? Which is it?! Pick!”

“I’d prefer neither, if I’m being honest!” You exclaimed, releasing his clothes so he could turn around fully, facing you. Your shoulders slumped a bit as you stared at his arm, your eyelids drooping in sorrow. “But it’s fine. Yell at me.” If this is what he needed… “Take your anger out on me!” If you could prevent the others from being hurt again…you’d do anything. “Whatever you need to feel better.” You lifted your head to stare him down only to lower it as soon as you felt a little bonk on your head.

As soon as the side of his hand gently struck the top of your skull, he deflated. “Are you an entire idiot?” An exhausted sigh left his lungs, rubbing at his eyes before lowering his good arm. “Taking my anger out on you would leave you hurt or even worse. Don’t you know better than to provoke a demon? I thought we all taught you better than that.”

You rubbed the part he had hit, although it had startled you more than hurt you. Squaring your shoulders, you changed your stance to one to make it look as though you had planned this to work all along. Wait…who was supposed to be scolding who? You came here to look after him, not the other way around! “And I thought maybe you all would trust me a bit more to actually tell me the truth rather than sneak around and skulk in your rooms!” As you both locked eyes, his gaze almost flickered away from you at that. Time to double down. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as much of an idiot.” Normally, statements like that would rile him up again, but you were, perhaps, riding on the fact that you knew he had a weakness for you. That, and the fact that you came up and wrapped your arms around his waist probably saved you from retaliation. “I might be an idiot, sure, but I’m not completely stupid.” Your head rested against his good shoulder. “I know when something feels off with you all. Did you really expect me to stand idly by as you all suffered?”

His little huff disturbed a few strands of your hair. “I guess I was hoping it would take you a bit longer before you found out…We all underestimated you again, didn’t we?”

“Never forget that humans thrive on stubbornness and spite,” you reminded him with a little grin. You pulled apart from him and took his good hand. “Let’s get out of this cold hallway. You should be in bed.” A noise of mild surprise stuck in his throat as you tugged him back into his bedroom, shutting the door, carefully stepping over and around little piles of books to bring him back to his bed. He sat back down on his mattress, glaring daggers at a hardcover lying face up and open over his covers. With a swipe of his hand much like a cat, he batted it clean off his bed. Something in the back of your mind clicked. The knock at the door wasn’t what made him upset, was it? Asmo mentioned something like this, didn’t he? “Are you mad that you can’t turn the pages?”

Heat suddenly flared up in his cheeks, almost growling. “It shouldn’t be that hard!” His broken arm was his dominant one…

“What happened to your e-book tablet? That should be fine for now, right?”

“I lent it to Levi…” He settled back against his pillows, staring out the window. “But it’s fine, I don’t need it. Don’t bother him.”

You looked out the window with him, wondering if there was something fascinating out there or if it was another excuse to not look you in the eyes. You sat down beside him on the bed, your forefinger resting on his good hand, tracing circles into his knuckles. You caught him trying to glance at you out of the corner of his eyes, gaze a bit softer than it had been. “Do you know what happened to the rest of your brothers? I remember Levi ran off before I could even get a good look at him.”

Satan’s jaw tightened, a little bump forming in one of his cheeks as his tongue pressed against the side of his mouth, struggling to talk but luckily finally sharing some information. “Asmo’s knee got dislocated and has multiple fractures throughout his leg. We managed to fix it up mostly, but he still can’t walk on it very well. I remember trying to get to him, turning my back for just a second. Just one second. Then I think I was kicked. Next thing I remember, I was waking up far away from battle, my arm completely broken from the shoulder down. I returned to the fight when it was nearly over.” Against his own better judgment, he tried to shift his injured shoulder as if maybe it had healed in the little bit of time you had been with him. He winced, cursing a bit, squeezing his eyes shut till the sharp pain went away. As you rubbed his other good arm, you had to wonder to yourself if the brothers had had very many instances with pain like this. For humans, it wasn’t really rare to break a bone or dislocate something at all. What usually hurt you was nothing more than perhaps mild discomfort to these demons. So for them to feel this much pain… “We’re supposed to be your protectors…” Satan found your hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “For all of us to be put out of commission like this…”

Your heart tugged at that. “Satan…” You stroked the side of his face with the back of your other hand, shaking your head a little. “Don’t be so dramatic. I don’t think any less of you. Not for any of you. Let me take care of all of you this time. I may not be super strong, or super fast, or insanely powerful…but I can do this at least. So please, don’t push me away. Let me help. Do you want me to go get your tablet from Levi’s room?”

For a moment, he was speechless, slowly tilting his head towards your touch before closing his eyes completely. “If you would…yes, please.”

“Then I’ll go do that,” you beamed. “Anything else you want me to get for you?”

He shook his head, rubbing his cheek against your hand like his favorite felines till it was settled in your palm. “Not right now…but listen, Levi’s not…doing well. Please, be careful.”

“What happened to him?”

He straightened, obviously wanting more of your attention but turning serious. Sure, they all taunted and joked around with each other, fought with each other, said they couldn’t stand each other, as siblings are wont to do, but even Satan seemed upset when he spoke about his older brother, a special sort of worry swirling deep behind his eyes. Once he told you, you stood straight up, stomach churning. You gave Satan’s hand a kiss before dropping it, sprinting out of his room as fast as you could.

Nothing prepared, no plan in your mind, you approached Levi’s room quickly. If what Satan had said was true…Satan wouldn’t lie about something like this. Which meant…Levi…You threw the door open, not even bothering to knock, which yeah, was kinda rude, but you couldn’t help it, you were riddled with concern. It was a good thing you did too, because he was doing worse than you had imagined. “Oh god…Levi…” You whispered, almost losing the strength in your voice at the shock.

Unlike his other two brothers you’d visited so far, he seemed to have taken no steps to take care of himself from earlier. You could hardly blame him though, seeing him like this, clothes still filthy from the flight, covered in dirt and…blood. His blood. It was all over his face, matting his hair, coating his eyelids. His hands were also covered in it, clawing at his scalp, rolling around on the floor in pain, silently crying. Had he been this way for hours? And no one bothered to tell you? No one bothered to take care of him this way?! It hit you suddenly, that perhaps no one was here to help Levi because no one could. Were all the others this way?...Or were the ones you had yet to see even worse?

Glancing at him was enough to figure out a list of what he needed. Sneaking back into Asmo’s room, you were at the very least pleased to see that the medicine bottle had a smidge less of its contents, meaning Asmo had taken some for the pain. This was what Levi needed now. You held onto it carefully, allowing yourself to look at Asmo’s sleeping face for only a split-second before leaving Lust to his beauty sleep. You dashed around the house in nearly a panic, gathering a few other things until your human arms couldn’t carry anything else. You returned to Levi’s bedroom, shutting the door behind you with your foot, nearly dropping all the items on the floor beside him, careful not to break any of the valuables. “Levi?” You spoke gently, voice filled with compassion and yet sorrow. You hated seeing him like this. You frowned as the demon continued to squirm, gasping, unable to focus on anything other than the unimaginable pain he was going through. You almost reached out to touch his head, but that would’ve been the worst idea right now seeing as how…his horns were gone.

Heart breaking in pieces, you grabbed his wrists, trying to prevent him from causing any more damage to his head. Although his eyes were still closed, he reached out for you, gripping your clothes so tightly, he ripped holes in them with his fingers. “Help me…” He cried, not embarrassed at being caught this way, just desperate for some relief, for someone to care for him when he could not.

“I am…I’m here,” you assured him, placing your arms under his, suddenly doing your best to slightly pick him up, dragging him over to his wall so you could prop him up against it. Somehow, you did this successfully, the adrenaline in you giving you strength you didn’t know you had. Fumbling with the medicine bottle, you poured the proper dosage into the cap. When Barbatos had given this to you, you almost laughed, ready to question why it was a liquid kind rather than in some capsule form. Now you answered your own question. Levi was hardly in a state well enough to consume this much, you didn’t want to imagine the kind of pain you would have put the both of you through if you had tried to get him to swallow a pill. Keeping him still with a hand against his face, you told him to open his mouth, dumping the medicine past his lips.

Magically, it seemed to almost work as soon as he swallowed it. His twitching lessened, his breathing not as shallow. “MC?” He muttered your name weakly, trying to open his eyes, but finding that his dried blood had essentially sealed his eyes shut. It’s a good thing you brought a rag and a little bowl of clean warm water.

“It’s me,” you confirmed, getting the rag wet and brushing it over his face, working on clearing up the eyelids, getting it off his eyelashes. Soon, his tears were no longer limited to slipping from the corners of his eyes. They dripped down his face, streaking down more grime as they did so. You were quick to wipe that all away, getting his face clean, trying to ignore the way he was rubbing his head against the wall. Although doing so seemed to bring him some relief, as long as he didn’t accidently touch the two bloody nubs just barely peeking above his blue-hair. After you’d cleaned his face, the medicine, your presence, and the steady motion against the cold wall had his crying stop completely. Now he simply seemed two steps away from passing out, and while you knew he desperately needed sleep after all that, you did hope you could get him fully clean before then. “Let’s try to get you to the shower, come on.” You took both his hands, leaning your full body weight back, persuading him up on his feet.

A small wave of despair flooded over you from him as a little bit of his negative personality came through. “Gross…” He muttered, hardly having the energy in him to speak. “And dir…dirty…” He did get up eventually, almost falling forward, leaning a ton of his dead-weight on you instead.

“I know, Levi, I know…We’re going to work on you getting clean. I’m going to need you to try to stand up though…or we’ll both fall…” Your legs were already shaking at the added pressure. Demons sure were heavy…He managed to find the strength to carry himself, holding your hand tightly as you led him through the doorway to his room. He kept wobbling, unbalanced on his own feet. Was he that exhausted or…was the sudden loss of horns on his head throwing off his entire natural stability? You tugged him away from the doorframe he was about to walk straight into, carefully and slowly leading him towards the House’s main bathroom.

Despite being really out of it, he suddenly seemed to realize where you both were as soon as the bathroom door closed you both in. “I…I…I…” Was all he could stutter. You grabbed one of the bathroom’s chairs – an interior design choice you always questioned, but one you were grateful for now – and settled him in one, working to pull his dirty hoodie off, some of your fingers brushing over the blue scale-like details in his skin. Finally, this last act was enough to bring him almost fully to his senses. “Don’t!” He held onto his clothes while you had brought them nearly fully off, the fabric bunched up over his head, covering his face. “I…I can do it…I’ll be out– be out soon…”

You allowed yourself to take a breath, thinking about the fact that you were essentially tearing off his clothes. Shaking your head, trying to gather yourself and your own senses, you agreed. “Okay…just remember no shampoo or anything, alright? I’ll bring you clean clothing and be right outside the door.” He didn’t exactly have the power to deny you, so he just agreed with a groan, pulling his hoodie off the rest of the way, letting it fall to the floor. Giving him his privacy, you left the room, turning back down the hall to gather Levi some clean clothes. You didn’t really know how to treat broken horns…Satan had briefly explained enough to assure you that they would grow back, it would just be extremely uncomfortable to say the least. You had to just hope that you were doing enough…and if you could help Asmo and Satan recover, they could probably help the others in ways you could not. One step at a time though. Folding up a set of clean and soft clothes, you hurried back to the bathroom, giving it a small knock. “Levi, I’m going to open up the door enough to put these inside, okay?”

“F–Fine…” It was faint, but you heard it, opening the door just wide enough to settle the clothes on the floor before shutting it again, resting your forehead against the wood. There was silence other than the sound of rushing water. Then there was a little squeak as the showerhead turned off, a few stray drops striking the floor. You then heard him shuffling, moaning a little bit in pain as he worked to get himself dressed. As you finally took a step back from the door, it opened, Levi grasping on the door handle, his fresh clothes you’d brought him clinging to his still-soaking body.

You sighed a bit and pointed to the chair that had remained in the place you’d left it. “Sit,” you demanded, careful not to let the magic of the pact work its way in your words. With how weak he was, you didn’t want to force his body to do anything. Levi looked at you with wide eyes before lowering his head, almost whimpering, sitting in the seat. You stepped inside, finding a soft towel, beginning to run it over his body. This was probably a useless gesture. The brothers had already explained to you that temperature, little things like staying wet, they weren’t that hazardous to demons. Yet, you couldn’t help but do it anyway, getting his arms and his legs, his neck. His hair still had a decent amount of dried blood in it, but you’d have to worry about that later. Even just touching his hairline almost had him flinch. “Okay,” you told him once you felt satisfied, going over one last spot with the towel as you cleared the water from dripping into his eyes. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He had no complaints at that, letting you drag him back to his bedroom. It probably wasn’t needed, but you held onto his shoulders as you helped him hoist himself into his strange nest of a bed. He immediately curled up into it, a sigh leaving his chest as he finally seemed to have a reprieve from constant pain. You unfurled one of the blankets you’d brought from your room, the one he always seemed to tug away from you if he spent the night in your room. Pulling it over him, he finally looked up at you, eyes almost wavering with emotion as he gripped at the comforter.

“Get lots of sleep. I’ll bring you food when you wake up as well as anything else you need.” You wished you could stroke his head, petting him softly. You’d have to resolve yourself to rubbing his arm instead. “Do you know if any of your other brothers really need my help right now?” You could only start to imagine what the others might be going through in silence. Levi suddenly looked frightened as he began to recall the others. He raised his head enough to speak clearly, a pleading sort of squeak in his voice. “B-Beel.”

You steeled yourself as you approached the twin’s room. On one hand, this would be an opportunity to take care of two brothers at once. On the other hand, you knew you would suffer seeing the state the two youngest brothers were in. Levi had finally passed out as soon as he uttered his brother’s name, unable to stay awake any longer, so you had no idea what afflicted Gluttony and Sloth. Beel had shown up to breakfast at least. Yet, you had to wonder if any injury was enough to keep him away from food. He’d probably be hungry now…maybe you should’ve made him something. Best to check on them first though while you were here.

At least you knew the twins were not as likely to turn you away as the others. Beel didn’t have that sort of stubbornness in him, and he was hardly embarrassed by anything. Belphie might initially be irritated, but he was the spoiled one. He would probably quickly change his feelings as soon as he knew you would do anything for him. A little sigh came out of you as you gathered yourself. A few of your knocks seemed to echo down the quiet halls. With these two, you announced yourself without hesitating, hoping to hear a voice on the other side. “Beel? Belphie? It’s me. Can I come in?” Nothing. Not too surprising actually. Perhaps they were both asleep? That would be a preferable scenario. “I’m coming in,” you warned, pausing for a few seconds before pushing the door open.

The room was dark, a slight glow coming from the sun and moon decals behind the twin’s bed. It allowed you just enough light to keep from tripping on your own feet. The first thing you noticed was surprisingly Belphie’s bed. Empty. But not even just devoid of a demon, empty entirely. Pillows, blankets, stuffed cushions, even the sheets, all tugged off Sloth’s bed in what appeared to be a fit of frustration. Nothing was damaged but the mattress was bare, the nest Belphie usually slept in was in heaps on the ground. Luckily, Beel’s bed was not in the same state, a large lump under the covers, a few ginger tufts sticking out from the blanket’s hem. He usually snored, but it didn’t seem to be the case this time, which had you wondering if he was awake or not. He was, however, wheezing a little, each breath taken in shakily and painfully. You came over quietly, nervous about trying to tap him or shake him when you weren’t sure about the state he was in. So, you simply pulled down the comforter enough to see his face, rubbing the top of his head, assuming with imaginary crossed-fingers that he didn’t share Levi’s injuries. His eyebrows were scrunched in pain, but as soon as he felt your hand on his head, his eyes fluttered open. “MC?”

“Hi, Beel,” you tried to grin, sitting next to him on the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Huh?” His eyes closed again as he seemed to be thinking, humming once he came to a conclusion. “How did you know? I was told we weren’t supposed to tell you.”

So this wasn’t some unanimous brotherly bond of secrecy? Which one of these stupid, pig-headed, prideful– ah, Lucifer told them all to hush, didn’t he? You’d have to give the eldest a scolding of your own later, even at the risk of your own health. It was what he deserved. However, that wasn’t your main concern at the moment. You nodded towards Beel. “Diavolo told me. So, I’ve been checking in on all of you. I’m here to take care of you. Anything you want– within reason –and I’ll get it for you.”

Unlike his other siblings, Beel actually smiled. “I’m glad.” He tried to let out a relieved exhale, but only twitched in pain as soon as he tried. “Stuff like this doesn’t happen a lot. I’m sure some of them don’t know what to do…so I’m glad you’re here for them.”

“I’m here for you too, you know,” you had to remind him. “Can you tell me what happened to you so I can help you?”

Suddenly he frowned deeply, a sulking and guilty look crossing over his face. “I tried to help…but I ended up causing more problems for everyone…” He seemed one step away from crying, but managed not to, looking away from you instead. “Mammon was the distraction, but everyone could tell he was getting tired. I didn’t want him to get hurt so I…” He moaned a little as he took a breath to keep talking. “It ended up charging. I took the hit. I play Fangol, so I thought I could take it…but I…” He pushed the rest of the covers off him with one hand, the blankets folding up around his feet. You noticed that there were several little packets resting on his body. At least you discovered where the ice-packs were now. They appeared to all have melted though, deflated and warm. You’d have to put them back in the freezer. Beel pulled up part of his shirt, revealing the huge discolored bruises that covered his torso. He rested his hand beside him on the bed, trying to look at his own injuries with a little bit of confusion, like he wasn’t used to feeling this way. “Hurt my ribs,” he finally stated. “And it was all for nothing…my brothers all got hurt anyway…”

“That’s not your fault, Beel.” With a kind hand, you turned his head towards you. “It’s not. You all did what you thought was best in the moment. You won’t start to feel better if you keep beating yourself up over it. Let yourself rest physically and mentally, okay?” You rubbed his head again, the gesture making him grin again. It was an act he mostly saw happen to his twin, so he was probably internally thrilled it was his turn this time. “Promise me you’ll rest.”

“I’ll try…it’s hard though…I’m worried.”

“About your brothers?”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah…I know a lot of them got hurt pretty badly. Belphie seemed pretty restless earlier. I think that’s keeping me up too.”

“So I take it you won’t be able to sleep till I take care of the rest of them?”

Either he was taking this whole thing extra hard, or perhaps he heard the exhaustion that was beginning to creep into your voice. “Sorry…”

You tugged his shirt back down over his bruised body, picking up the multiple used-up ice packs that needed to be refrozen. “Don’t be, Beel. It’s nice that you care for your brothers that deeply. I’ve checked on Asmo, Satan, and Levi already. They’re on their first steps to recovery.” At that fact, a few lines of worry left Beel’s forehead. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for a little bit, make you a snack, and bring you some medicine, and then I’ll go take care of the rest of your siblings, okay?”

At the mention of a snack, his stomach rumbled. “Please?”

For a giant, muscular demon, he really could be adorable. “Of course. I’ll be right back, okay?” You tucked the covers around him for now, getting up to leave the room to finish up your new tasks. First off, the medicine you’d left in Levi’s room. You opened the door quietly, glad Levi was sleeping soundly. While you were here, you’d better find Satan’s tablet before Wrath got too impatient. Luckily, it was simply resting on Levi’s desk. Tucking that and the medicine under one arm, you left Levi to his dreams, rushing back down to Satan’s room. You were glad when knocking didn’t result in making him angry again. In fact, he didn’t respond at all. You were surprised to find Satan fast asleep when you took a peek inside his room. You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his peaceful face, setting down his tablet on his nightstand, leaving him to head to the kitchen.

As you opened the kitchen door, you nearly walked into someone else. The demon blinked. “Beel? Oh…you’re not Beel.”

“Belphie!” You were a bit comforted at the fact that he seemed to be walking around just fine. “What’re you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Looking for Beel…” He muttered, his eyes glazed over with pain and exhaustion, and yet despite that and being Sloth, he didn’t seem up for sleeping just yet.

“He’s up in your room. He’s been there since breakfast…did you not notice him?” You walked around the demon for a moment, trying to multitask, putting the warm ice-packs in the freezer. You placed down the medicine on the counter, pulling out a few things to make and bring for Beel. Something easy to eat.

“I don’t…remember…my head hurts…” Belphie lowered his head, looking away from the light in the room.

He was acting a bit odd… “Come sit down for a minute,” you coaxed, coming over to take him by the shoulders, making him sit down at the kitchen island. “If your head hurts, take some medicine. Here.” Like you had done for Levi, you poured the medicine in the cap, holding it out for Belphie to take. Rather than taking it in his own hands, he parted his lips slightly, waiting for you to do it for him. Like you said earlier…spoiled. You couldn’t help but chuckle just a little bit as you gave him the medicine, turning your back to him to wash the cap again. Your humor was short-lived as you heard him rush out of his seat so fast, he knocked the chair over. “Belphie?” You turned just in time to watch him bend over a trash can, purging the medicine you’d just given him. Almost dropping what you’d had in your hand, you rushed over to his side, keeping him steady as he continued to be sick, a few coughs and cries between heaves.

Once he was done, he fell to the ground, using the fabric of his sleeve to wipe off his lips, pressing his forehead against the cold floor. “What’s…wrong…with…me?”

A headache, light sensitivity, restlessness…nausea…As you hurried to grab him a cup of water, you tried to connect the symptoms to something. Although, it’s not like you were a demon doctor or anything, how were you supposed to know for certain? You did have a guess though…You knelt beside him, grabbing his arm to pull him up upright just enough so he was sitting up against a cabinet. You tried getting him to hold the glass of water, but he kept batting you away. “Belphie…drink some. Here, take sips.” You supported the back of his head, making him drink in little doses before you felt satisfied. “I’m sorry for making you take the medicine when your stomach was upset…I had no idea.” You frowned, trying not to lecture yourself too harshly, gently placing the back of your hand on his forehead.

At the touch, he collapsed forward, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you in a death-like grip. “So…tired…where’s Beel?”

It would be bad if he fell asleep on you like this…You wouldn’t be able to leave…”I just told you…in your room. Did you hurt your head, Belphie?” Could demons get concussions? This seemed close to that, whatever it was. You rubbed his back at the risk of lulling him to sleep.

“I…think so…”

“Poor Belphie…” You couldn’t help but say aloud, letting him squeeze you a bit. “Let’s take you to bed. Can you stand up? I can’t carry you…”

“Bed?...”

“Yeah, in your room. A nice soft bed. I just need you to stand up for me…” After a bit of processing, he managed to stand…although he was still holding onto you, only shuffling his feet whenever you moved. His head rested in the crook of your neck, arms around your waist. He was making everything a lot harder…but if this is what he wanted…Placing a few snacks and the bottle of medicine on a tray, you somehow managed to hold onto it while having Belphie cling to you like his life depended on it. “Let’s go…” This would be an adventure. Each step you took towards the twins room, you felt more of Belphie’s strength leave him, leaning on you a little harder the further you got. By some miracle, you both made it, trying to not collapse to the floor while almost fully dragging Belphie around.

As you opened the door, you noticed Beel brighten at the sight of you two, holding his sides as he sat up. You almost warned him against it, but if he was going to eat, better to do it upright. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to give a demon a Heimlich Maneuver if he started to choke. “Belphie! You found him.”

Gritting your teeth a bit, you managed to pull the mentioned twin further into the room, settling the tray on Beel’s lap. “Yeah…he’s not doing so well…Can you take him off of me so I can make his bed?”

Beel’s face fell a little bit, ignoring the snacks for now, grabbing both of Belphie’s arms, having to pry his twin off of you. You stretched a bit as soon as the weight left your shoulders. “Thanks…” Time to tackle this mess of a bed now…At least you knew Belphie wasn’t exactly picky when it came to his sleeping spots. Still, you wanted to do your best. You worked on finding the sheets first, tugging them over each of the corners. You heard the twins muttering to each other behind you, both of them trying to support each other in their own ways despite being injured. It warmed your heart, giving you a bit more energy to keep going. After the sheets were on, you threw all the cushions, letting them settle wherever they fell, spreading out the blankets and tucking back one of the corners. “Alright, Belphie, let’s tuck you in.”

The youngest’s knees were on the floor, the top half of him resting on Beel’s bed, his body slowly slipping towards the ground. You came over behind him, hands on his sides, trying to pull him up and over to his bed. “I want…to stay…with Beel…”

“I think it’s best if you stay in your own beds for now…” Although you were pretty tempted to do whatever he asked. Especially since he sounded so broken-hearted over leaving his twin despite only being a few feet away from him. “What if you hurt his ribs while trying to hug him? Or what if you accidentally hit your head against something since you’d be cramped trying to stay in the same bed? Once you both feel better, you can sleep wherever you want.” He didn’t really fight you, huddling up into a little ball on his bed once you’d guided him into it. You made sure only the softest of his pillows were placed under his head as you tucked several blankets around him, hoping he could sleep despite the pain he was in.

“He looks worse than I remember…” Beel whispered from his own bed.

“I think he must’ve hit his head pretty hard sometime during the fight,” you shared, trying to get Belphie to fall asleep by rubbing circles into his back over the blankets. “He was wandering around looking for you, and then threw up the medicine when I gave it to him. I’ll try to have him take some again after he sleeps. Maybe his stomach will settle by then.”

Suddenly, Beel found it hard to eat his snacks, like he could feel his brother’s nausea as his own…or maybe he found it hard to enjoy himself while all his other siblings were suffering. He still managed to eat, just slowly, the two of you sitting in relative silence for a bit, observing Belphie as his eyelids struggled to stay open, finally shutting and remaining still. “MC?” Beel called your name softly, waving you over. You got up and approached him, an eyebrow raised. He surprised you as he took your face in his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re the best. I’m glad we have you looking after us…Thank you.”

“You all can thank me by getting better as quickly as you can.” You kissed his cheek, pulling away from him with a hand settled on one of your hips. “Try to rest too if possible. Leave your brothers to me…and let me know if you or Belphie need anything.”

“Okay,” he agreed, some worry leaving him now that his twin was back in the room, knowing that the others had you caring for them. He stifled a yawn, still unable to take deep breaths. “And MC?” He made sure to address you before you left the room. You looked over your shoulder at him. “Look after yourself too, okay? You already look tired.”

You were…but you were far from being done…but, yes. You wouldn’t be much help if you got hurt from pushing yourself too hard. “I will, Beel. Don’t worry.”

Only Mammon and Lucifer remained unchecked. Out of the two of them, you figured you’d save the most problematic for last…which meant you’d head to Mammon first. While Lucifer did have a special soft-spot for you, if he was hurt, it meant his Pride was doubly wounded. There was little chance he’d let you into his room. Maybe Mammon would have some idea on how to convince the eldest to let you in, and you could care for the second-born in the meantime. You were a bit worried though…Despite his grumblings, Lucifer always looked after his siblings. So why…when they needed it the most, was Lucifer nowhere to be found? He had sent that message to the members of Purgatory Hall to ensure you’d make it to RAD safely, and that was it. There had been no sign of him since then. Focus, you encouraged yourself, pacing in a little circle in front of Mammon’s door before channeling your inner Lucifer and knocking sternly. Silence.

Somehow, despite having been met with similar disappointing responses several times today, Mammon’s missing voice sent a chill down your spine. There was no grumble, no yelp, no noise inside his room whatsoever. “Mammon?” You opened his door to spy inside. You were a quick jumble of conflicting emotions. The quietness was simply due to Mammon being completely absent from his room and not because he was so hurt he…For that you were grateful…and yet…where in the world was he?! If he was hurt, now was not the time to be out! You could only hope he was still inside the house…You’d have to go find him.

Trying to remain quiet enough not to disturb the others attempting to rest, you sprinted through the house, checking every room you came across, playing this weird and stressful game of hide-and-seek you didn’t remember signing up for. Maybe the couches in the common room? No. The music room? Sadly not. The library? Not unless he had hidden himself amongst the books…Think, think! This was Mammon. If he wasn’t in his room, where would he be?...You closed your eyes, hands pressing against your temples as if you could squeeze the information into your brain. And then…an idea. Running back through the hall, you made your way down past the brother’s bedrooms and towards your own. He always did say your room was practically his own as well, seeing as how he was there so often. You had found your room empty when you grabbed the blanket for Levi, so it had almost slipped from your mind. But there was always the possibility Mammon had snuck in there while you were off helping the others.

There it was…your door just ahead of you…opened by a crack when you had sworn you shut it completely when you’d left. He had to be there. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you padded slowly up to your bedroom, pushing the door open softly. Hair covering his face, breathing in little gasps, Mammon was resting at the end of your bed on his back, legs dangling off the mattress. You nearly jumped on your bed beside him, trying not to jostle him too much, touching the side of his face as you observed his split bottom lip. “H–hey,” he rasped, either having been awake the whole time or suddenly up at your touch. “You’re not–” His head tilted back as he groaned, biting his lip tightly, making the split in his lip worse, some of his blood dripping down his chin.

“You’re hurting yourself,” you lightly scolded. “Don’t bite on your lip like that.”

You could tell he attempted to look at you with annoyance, but it fell very short, looking like a beg instead. “Don’t…tell me what to do…”

You had several things you wanted to say to that, most of them sarcastic, but you could tell he didn’t need that right now. “We should get you back to your room…” Running your fingers through his hair, you felt how cold his skin was…You wedged a hand under one of his shoulders, ready to help push him up, only to hear him shout in pain, his cry so sharp it rang in your ears.

“Don’t move me!” He panted, cold sweat running down his forehead now in little beads, gulping down the pain. “Don’t…move me…” He repeated it, quieter this time.

Hearing him like that forced tears to prick your eyes, but you didn’t dare let them fall. “Why’d you come in here then if you were hurt that bad?!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice a bit, the tone almost breaking in a little bit of panic. He looked worse for wear…beyond that, even.

“Heh…” It was a mix between a whine and a chuckle. “I’m the stupid one…remember?” That appeared to be his only answer. He turned his head away from you and closed his eyes. “Just leave me here…yeah?” You wanted to do something, wanted to say something, but you suddenly found yourself at a loss. What should you do? What had happened to the troublesome Greed to make him like this?

“Where?...” You finally spoke, voice a little strained. “Where are you hurt?...How badly?” He didn’t respond, and for a moment, you were worried he had blacked out. But then slowly, he reached for your hand, weakly holding it in his own.

“Badly…”

“Where?” You asked again.

There was a wheeze as he tilted his head towards you again, the life draining from his face, blinking slowly. “Got me…right in the chest…’batos patched me up, but…hurts like hell…” He tried looking you in the eyes, but cast his gaze away quickly, probably embarrassed at the way he looked right now. ‘Not cool at all’, he would probably say under normal conditions. Gradually, despite his stubbornness, he lifted up his shirt. His chest was tightly bound in bandages, three large lines of blood bleeding out through the cloth. He’d been cut…or clawed at was probably the better term. Greed was selfish, ‘scummy’ most called him, and yet, he took a deep and painful breath, using up energy he didn’t really have to ask you a specific question. “How’re the others?”

“I’ve been helping them as much as I can…”

“Lucifer?”

“I haven’t seen him yet...Is he bad?”

He licked at his dry lips, swallowing some nervousness. “Don’t…tell him I told you…” His eyes looked around like he was worried his older brother might pop out of the walls. Once he figured he was safe enough, he sighed. “Idiot’s worse than I am.”

The words struck you harshly, leaving you feeling almost numb. “Worse? He seemed almost fine when you all came home.”

“That’s pride for ya…”

Your head lowered, trying to ignore the worry pounding in your chest. One step at a time… One brother at a time…Now was not the time to sulk. “If we can’t get you to your room, let’s at least try to straighten you out…”

“You’re askin’ a lot of me here…” It came off as a little bit of a joke, Mammon mentally preparing himself. “The Great…Mammon will move for ya…You might have to help a little though.” He gestured towards his feet, having you grab his ankles to swing him around vertically. Meanwhile, he dug his elbows into the mattress, pulling himself up to where your pillows were. Unlike before, he kept himself from shouting this time, probably to save some face. However, now his body was slightly trembling, pain wracking his body.

“You did it,” you praised, tugging the remaining blankets out from under him so you could place them over his body. You pet his head, trying to dab away some of his sweat with the corner of the covers. “Good job…” You noticed your own hands were shaking. “...Hey…you’ll be okay, won’t you?” Finally, without your permission, you felt some tears slip from your eyes. “You’re not going to die on me, are you?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. “Nah…It’ll take a lot more…than some measly scratches…to do me in.”

“Promise?...”

He reached a hand up to brush away one of your tears, only to quickly lose the strength, his arm dropping limply to his sides. “I promise. I wouldn’t lie to ya. Give me a few days…and I’ll be right back on my feet.” You didn’t mean to doubt him, but you’d have to contact Diavolo to double check. Although, if Barbatos truly was the one to mend these wounds, you doubted he would’ve let Mammon go if he was in critical condition.

“Barbatos gave me medicine for the pain. I’ll go get it for you, okay?” You ran your hand up and down his arm. “Do you want anything else?”

“Eh…if you’re askin’, some water would be nice.”

“I can do that!” You didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but if that’s all he wanted to feel better, you could do that easily. It made you feel a little less useless in this situation. “I’ll be right back!” Thank goodness the kitchen was right next door, although you left the medicine in the twin’s room…Maybe at this point, you should just have it strapped to you, since it seemed everyone needed some, making you run back for it all the time. At least it gave you an excuse to peek in on the twins again. Heading to the room first, you tip-toed in. Both twins were asleep. Now, you weren’t necessarily the prayerful type, but even you were tempted to slip in a little thank-you to the universe or whoever else might be listening. You grabbed the bottle of medicine once more and bolted back downstairs. In this situation, you would’ve been tempted to fill up the fanciest glass for Mammon, but if he could hardly move…a glass probably wouldn’t cut it…What did they have in here? You rummaged through the shelves and cupboards, looking for something that might be more useful than just a glass. Ah! One of Beel’s sports water bottles! It was one of those kinds where you hit a button and a little straw pops out. If only it wasn’t so large…oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers. You filled it up with filtered water, leaving enough empty space so if you were to tilt it, water wouldn’t come spilling out. Then you made your way back to Mammon, almost out of breath with as fast as you had been moving. You crawled up in bed on your knees, already in the process of pouring him some medicine. “Here…” You could only hope he wouldn’t be sick like Belphie. You helped him tilt his head up, pouring it into his mouth, watching him grimace.

“Awful stuff…” Although, like for Levi, it started to take effect immediately. He took a moment to himself, breathing clearly, his body no longer shuddering. Then as the pain subsided, he started to realize just how dry his throat felt. “Water,” he demanded, a little bit of warmth coming to his cheeks…thank goodness. “Please,” he added.

You handed him the water bottle and watched as he greedily chugged it down, almost emptying it entirely. “Easy!” You warned. “Don’t make yourself sick.”

He gasped for air once he had gulped down enough, already looking worlds better than when you had found him, although he still was looking rough. “--’is the best water…ever had…”

You sighed, releasing a ton of tension you’d been holding in your lungs. “It’s a good year…Vintage.” Not the best joke you’d ever made, a pretty terrible one actually, but one you shared nonetheless. Anything to break the tension.

A breathy huff left his nostrils, the best he could manage for a laugh while his chest was in tatters. You suddenly felt his fingers weave through yours, holding your hand as he closed his eyes. “Thank you…”

You brushed some of his hair away from his eyes, feeling the temperature in his skin begin to return to normal. “You’re welcome…Get some rest. Please don’t move rooms while I’m gone.”

“I won’t…” He cracked one eye back open. “Gonna see Lucifer?”

“I’ll…try. If he’s worse off than you are, I have no idea how he’ll let me even near him.” You rubbed your thumb comfortingly against Mammon’s, thinking as you frowned. These demons…You felt like your already shorter-in-comparison life-span was shrinking even further at the stress.

Mammon hummed a little bit, releasing his hand so you could go, although you felt his hesitation. He didn’t want to let you go, but he knew he had to. “If he’s doin’ what I think he’s doin’, he’s in recovery mode right now. He’s shut himself down to heal as fast as he can to not disappoint Diavolo.” One of his fingers raised to point towards your door. “His door is probably locked, but I know Lucifer keeps an emergency Master Key somewhere in his office.”

That sounded like a lot of work for something Lucifer would probably hate you for rather than be grateful. Intruding his office just to further intrude his bedroom after he locked it…If anyone knew what he was doing, it would be the eldest…Maybe you should leave him be. “Sounds pretty scheme-y.” Mammon almost looked wounded at that…joke not intended. “He’s the strongest out of everyone…He probably doesn’t need my help.”

“MC…” Mammon pulled at the sleeve of your shirt, his eyes suddenly glaring at you with an unusual firmness. “Did ya not hear what I said? He’s shut down. If I can hardly move, there’s a good chance he can’t either. There’s no way he can take proper care of himself right now. ” He let go of you as he realized that he wasn’t exactly being clear. “Listen, he took a heavy hit for Diavolo. Got his wings messed up pretty badly. He was so stunned, he probably didn’t even know how badly he was hurt till he got home. If he’s not checking up on us, that means he’s unable to.” He went quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, looking at the ceiling to your room like he was trying to sense something. Maybe he could. Maybe he had some sort of connection to Lucifer you hardly heard about, or maybe Mammon just could easily guess after having been around him for so long. “I hate to imagine it, but I have a bad feeling he’s completely unconscious.”

“Damn Lucifer and his tenacity to keep things hidden!” Hissing to yourself under your breath, you went about Lucifer’s office like a little whirlwind. No cushion, no folder, no shelf was safe while you were on the hunt. You knew once he was better, you’d get a proper punishment from Lucifer for rummaging through his office, but you could cross that bridge when you came to it. Right now, there was a stubborn demon in desperate need of your help. Maybe you should’ve checked on him first. You knew something felt off about this whole situation. The little voices in the back of your head were trying to clue you in as soon as Satan expressed mild worry about the first-born. Yet, you had pushed those aside, because Lucifer was always so put-together. It was what choked Diavolo up during your little meeting.

“And it was because I was there that–” The prince had said. ‘Lucifer was wounded’, you could finally finish that statement with your own conclusion. You pounded your palms down on Lucifer’s desk, your head low, wishing that things were different. If you were smarter, you could’ve found the key by now. If you were stronger, you could simply break Lucifer’s door down by force. If you weren’t just a human…maybe you could’ve gone and fought with them. But then you would’ve gotten hurt too…you had to tell yourself.

You sat in Lucifer’s office chair, imagining him lecturing you. ‘Pitying yourself over circumstances you have no control over is a waste of time and effort,’ he’d probably say. He would be right. Although since this was you thinking it, technically you were right. Getting frustrated wouldn’t get you anywhere. Since you were already in the process of thinking like Lucifer…where would he hide a key? Somewhere away from anything valuable for fear of Mammon finding it. So nothing near his records or anything he held dear. Being in or behind any books was probably a negative as well, just in case Satan came down to borrow some. Checking the cushions had perhaps been a waste of time, for if Belphie ever came in here to take a nap, he might knock it loose. Ugh, why did he always have to overcomplicate things? Wait…maybe that was it. Anyone who tried looking for the Master Key would probably try to think like he did, complexly. So maybe the trick was to think of this as simply as you could. Where would be a dumb place to hide something important like that? With a swift motion, you opened up one of his desk drawers, careful not to mess up the order of any important papers. Nothing. And while you did feel around for a fake bottom, you figured Lucifer’s brothers would be clever enough to check for that. Just…double-checking, following through with the ‘so-simple-it-hurts’ theory, you felt around with your hand pressed against the underside of the desk. This was probably another waste of time. The demon of Pride wouldn’t try hiding a key by just taping it under his…Your fingers brushed against cold metal. You nearly felt like screaming. With a firm tug, you pulled it free, twisting it between your fingers as you looked at it. Definitely looked like a master’s key.

Giving yourself a few seconds to mentally settle, you took a deep breath. Then, not wasting any more time, you dashed from Lucifer’s office, scrambling through the House to make it to his bedroom. You knocked on his door simply to save your own skin. Lucifer was practically a lie-detector test. Later, if he was going to ask if you even attempted to knock first before breaking in, you could rest easy knowing you did...kinda. You nearly dropped the key trying to shove it in the proper slot, heart almost sinking when it didn’t turn as easily as you felt it should’ve. With a second, more firm try, the door clicked. You opened the door so hurriedly, you nearly stumbled inside. “Lucifer, I’m–” You had heard what Mammon told you, and yet somehow, despite being told directly that Lucifer was in a bad state, you had still half-expected to see him sitting up in bed by now, glaring at you with the fury of a thousand suns. Such was not the case. When would you learn that locked doors are locked for a reason? “--here…” You found yourself still finishing your announcement,

The eldest was face-down on his bed, not even under the covers. One of his arms dangled from off the edge of his bed, hand still grasping a roll of bandages which had completely unrolled, trailing all the way off to the side. Black feathers rested in various places. Some on the floor, some over Lucifer’s unmoving body, some still fluttering down from his four unfurled wings. When Mammon had mentioned them being in bad shape, he wasn’t kidding. Each of his wings were held out, bent in ways they probably shouldn’t be, the feathers disturbed, the ones that were covered in blood were the ones that were doing him the favor of falling, like they were purging themselves of imperfections. Every so often, the silence would break with the sound of a snap. It sounded like someone was popping their fingers. It took you longer than it should to notice that Lucifer’s wings moved with that sound, albeit slightly. Was this…Were his bones fixing themselves that rapidly? In front of your eyes? You were a sickly sort of fascinated, although mostly sick. After a good few minutes had passed, you finally turned around, taking the master’s key and tucking it into your pocket, shutting the door so, at the very least, Lucifer had some semblance of the privacy he had hoped to keep.

You walked closer to him, coming around the other side of the bed to see that his other hand was gripping his sheets tightly, his knuckles white the smallest hint of a tremble in his usually firm hand. It was probably unimaginably painful… Again, you had to stop and wonder what you as a human could do in this situation… You couldn’t heal him…but you could finish what he had started, since it appeared he blacked-out before he could finish. Starting with the more obvious details, you took the rolled out bandage and took it from his hand, picking it up off the floor. It would have to be disposed of now. You chucked it in a trash can, taking Lucifer’s hand that had held it and lifted it, resting his arm near his head. There was a little pause as you waited for that to wake him up. At this, he usually would’ve grabbed you, or at least turned his head at you. No. Nothing. Not even a change in his breathing. You were almost disappointed, but it was probably the best for you both if he stayed unconscious for now. Next, you took the shoes off his feet, tucking them neatly against the foot of his bed. You really tested how out of it he was after that by tugging his blanket out from under him, draping it over his legs

Now what?...As you stood there, you noticed the bruising over his back, a few thin lines of dried blood suggesting that he had been clawed at too, only the flesh-wounds had already healed. He truly was powerful. Perhaps those ice-packs you’d put in the freezer were ready to be used again. Lucifer could use one. “I’ll be back,” you whispered, leaving him to his own devices for a little while as you headed down to the kitchen once more.

As you opened the freezer, you prodded one of the ice-packs with your finger. Good enough. Gathering them into your arms, you noticed that you counted seven of them. Perfect. You stopped by Asmo’s first, going in the order you had taken care of them. He was still fast asleep. You removed the bag of frozen veggies you’d used as a last-ditch-effort, replacing it with a fresh ice-pack. Asmo moaned a little in his sleep, but did little more than that. Next was Satan, also resting, although it seemed he had woken up for at least a little while since you came in his room last, the tablet you’d left on his nightstand was now over his chest. Careful not to wake him up, you wrapped the ice-pack in a cloth before trying to tuck it in his sling, placing it over his arm. His eyebrows scrunched but that was all. Levi next. You guessed it, asleep. You settled his ice-pack on the top of his head. He tossed and turned a little at the disturbance, but didn’t open his eyes. You readjusted the pack as it began to slip from its place. Levi sighed aloud probably in relief. Now for the twins.

The entire House was noiseless as its residents continued to slumber. They all looked comfortable, at least as comfortable as they could be. You yawned a bit. What time was it? Was it that late? Or was seeing all of the sins sleep making you tired? You carefully removed Beel’s blanket after you’d entered their room. He woke up at that. “I fell asleep?”

You nodded, giving him a little grin. “Seems like it. Sorry to wake you up. I brought you one of these.” You handed him one of the remaining packs in your possession.

“Thank you.” He settled it where the swelling seemed to be the worst, wincing. “Did you check on the others? Mammon? Lucifer?” When you nodded in silence, he seemed to take the message, although he already knew they weren’t doing great in the first place. He watched you head over to Belphie’s bed, observing you as you lifted Sloth’s head gently, letting him rest on the ice-pack like a little pillow. Belphie muttered something in his sleep, almost reaching out to grab your hand, but missing, his grasp holding tightly to his body-pillow instead. “Have you had time to rest yet?” Beel asked, voicing his concern with a little rumbling groan.

“I will soon,” you assured him, coming back to ruffle the hair on his head. “I gotta finish looking after Lucifer.”

He looked at you with such compassion. “When we feel better, I want to take us all out to eat.”

“I can’t wait.” You pulled the blanket back over him, telling him to return to his rest before you left, circling back around to your room. Probably not the most efficient of paths, but the only one you could seem to follow. Mammon was out like a light, not even a twitch as you rested one of the packs in the middle of his chest. You noticed that the water bottle you brought for him was already completely empty. You’d refill it for him…and perhaps grab Lucifer one as well. “I’m back again,” you announced to the counters and cabinets. Did Beel even visit the kitchen this many times in one day?...Probably. You refilled Mammon’s container and pulled another identical one down for Lucifer. Thank goodness Beel got gifted so many of these for sports sponsorships. Water. Mammon. Dropped off. Back up to Lucifer.

Once you got back to the eldest’s room, you rested for a second against his wall, taking a breather. “Every time something like this happens,” you spoke aloud, knowing Lucifer probably wasn’t listening, “I gain a new respect for you. Taking care of this many people is exhausting.” Placing the water on Lucifer’s nightstand, you sighed, wrapping this last final ice-pack in fabric to keep it from freezing his skin. Now you could stop thinking the word ‘ice-pack’ as it was starting to lose its meaning. Carefully, you approached Lucifer’s side, careful not to touch his outspread wings to place the bundle down along his spine. “Not even the cold will wake you, hm?” You tried looking down at his sleeping features, only to remember that he was completely face-down. “Can you even breathe like that? Honestly, when it comes down to it, you’re just as bad as the rest of your brothers.” Not even mild lectures worked, huh? You reached down, finding his chin, turning his head just enough so his face was partially exposed. His slightly parted lips seemed to breathe in the air a little easier. You brushed his hair away from his closed eyes. “There you go.” Your hand seemed to linger on the side of his face. He was so warm. Almost too warm. “Rest easier now.” Your thumb rubbed at his sharp cheekbone. “Your brothers, your worries, leave them with me.” You got away with pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Return when you are ready, and not a moment sooner, you hear me?...I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.” With that, you figured you had done what you could for the time being. You dropped your touch from him, quietly striding from his room, using the key to lock his door behind you.

Hot…Why were you suddenly so unbelievably hot? You opened your eyes, trying to remember where you had last closed them. Ah, that was right, you had fallen asleep in the living room on one of the couches, not wanting to disturb Mammon’s sleep in your bed. Sure, you could’ve probably used greed’s own bed in return but…that didn’t feel right. However, when you fully opened your eyes, you were confused to find you were in your own room. Had you come here half-asleep or something? Or did… You raised your head, sitting up, or at least trying to sit up. Something, or someone was holding onto you. Actually, as your senses began to clear, multiple someone’s seemed to be keeping you in their grasp. Mammon was where you had left him on your bed, now to your left, holding your wrist in his hand. Belphie was to your direct right, clinging to your side. Beel was somehow right next to his twin, managing to fit himself on the small sliver of mattress that remained. Then there was Levi…curled up over all four of you, sleeping over the covers directly on your legs, wrapped up in the blanket you’d left for him. Satan was propped up against the wall at your feet, Wrath’s legs curled up to leave room for Asmo. The fifth and fourth-born were leaning against each other, keeping each other from falling over, a blanket loosely draped over the both of them. And then there was the eldest…seated in a chair beside the overstuffed bed, leaning forward to keep his back from touching the support of the seat, one of his arms outstretched, resting over both of the twins, his hand somehow managing to find yours in this mess of limbs. When they had gotten here, how they had gotten here, how you had ended up here, you had no clue. They were all asleep again though, still in the process of recovering. You had half a mind to wake all of them up, giving them a stern reminder on what it means to stay in bed!

But no…you couldn’t do that. Not now. You’d let them have this moment, even if you were impossibly warm from all the body heat. Not that you could exactly break free from these demonic binds nor could you carry them back to their rooms. They had all probably come in one-by-one. You chuckled to yourself at the sheer ridiculousness of it, at all of them. “Sleep well, all of you,” you whispered. “Feel better soon.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #tw blood #tw broken bones #tw bruises #tw vomit #tw cuts #tw concussion #tw injury #tw medication

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hiwelcometothemonstersancturary · 9 months ago

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so, I read the whole "House Tour (not the house we wanted, but the house we have)", and I loved it so much, and I asked a question after reading it because of the ending, so what was everyone's reaction of toys eating pizza for the first time?

Your First Ever Pizza Night

Synopsis: Angel has to teach the toys how to eat pizza. It's confusing.

---

James' eyes were so wide you thought they would pop out of his head. You nervously smiled at him, feeling the eyes of the toys staring at you from inside the house. "Thank you for your work", you tell him, money in hand. "I, uhm, am sorry for how Catnap tried to scare you away".

"I-it's okay!", he shakes his head. "No big deal, don't worry, Angel".

You eye the group from behind. Catnap tilts his head, still not very trusting of the stranger. You figured that would be the tenth human he talks to in more than a decade. "Take care, okay?"

"You too", he takes the money, counts, and then sighs. You also sigh, giving him a pat in the back. "Man, you really scared everyone out there. I thought you had... You know".

"I've been clean for years. I wouldn't do that", you reassure him. "And now I have those guys to look out for".

Your friend chuckles. "Feeling the weight of parenting on your shoulders already?"

"Urgh, don't even let me start talking about it", you smile. "Okay, I'll head inside now. I don't think half of them know what pizza is".

You tell James your goodbyes, watching him leave. You feel guilty for having him deliver so many pizzas to you, but it is what it is, the kids (your kids) must be hungry. You prepare yourself mentally before entering the house, closing the front door:

"So! Who's hungry?"

Dogday adjusts himself in the sofa as most of the mini toys yell "me!", rushing towards you, including the mini huggy that was using him as an oversized pillow. You laugh as they swarm you, and you pick up Driver and Bunzo on your arms. The little green huggy stims her hands, while Bunzo climbs on your shoulders: "Show us what that pizza thing is! Show us!"

"Bunzo, you're going to fall if you keep like this", Long Legs warns him, stretching all the way from the other corner of the living room to shoosh the crowd away. One catbee blows a raspberry at her, annoyed. "Get away from them! They're going to fall if you guys keep on like this!", the same catbee from before repeats the gesture, but now a candy cat and a bron imitate her gesture. "Angel!"

"You heard her", your warn the little ones. "C'mon, guys".

They coo away, and you watch Catnap proudly looking after the mini critters, most of whom didn't swarm you. He really is their big brother, uh...?

"Okay, guys. Are you ready?"

Driver stims again as you enter the kitchen, piles of pizza boxes distributed in the counters. Delight is counting them, muttering numbers under her breath, and stops when she notices you: "We have 26 boxes for 80 of us! They may last up to a week if we are careful".

"... What?", you chuckle. "Delight, no. The Prototype gave me enough money to feed everyone for years to come, we don't need to ration our food. You can eat as much as you want to".

You grab the first box you find. Bunzo tries to climb your head to take a look, and you laugh. "Eat as much as we want to? I'm going to explode, then!"

You bring the box to the living room, knowing well the kids are waiting for you to take the first slice. You show the box to Dogday, currently incapable of leaving the sofa thanks to his surgery stitches still being fresh. He deserves to see the first slice, you figured.

"You seeing this, pup?"

"With my two eyes!", Dogday nods. Catnap has approached you, and, with a smile, you open the box: "Behold: Pizza!"

"OOOO!", Bunzo yells. Huggy, who was following you around like a shadow, claps his hands, surprised. Kissy is still holding Poppy, who copies Huggy's clapping.

"It's been so long since I saw a real pizza!", the doll smiles. "And it smells even better!"

"This one is pepperoni pizza. There's 8 slices in every box - you guys should all take one. Eat as much as you want to!"

You take a piece, offering it to Bunzo, who grabs from your hand and shoves it on his mouth. You try your best not to accidentally drop him or Driver thanks to your chukling as he tries to deal with the cheese hanging out from his mouth. "Is elishious! Wha is disss?"

"You're going to get food on Angel's hair", Long Legs politely lifts Bunzo up from your head, using her arm to hold him. "And that's called... Cheese".

"Elishious!", he jumps.

"Please try not to choke!", you offer the next slice to Dogday. The big puppy's eyes go wide, and he shakes his head.

"Give it to the others, Angel..."

"There's enough for everyone, dummy, now eat" you take another slice, giving it to Long Legs, who stared at Bunzo in horror as he was still trying to deal with the cheese. "Theeere you go".

The pink spider stares at her slice with a strange look. She eyes Bunzo, then Dogday, who was holding his own as if it were a delicate piece of ceramic, then opens her mouth, then closes it.

"You eat pizza like this, Long Legs", you grab a slice of your own, biting it and using your teeth and fingers to free yourself from the cheese. Still chewing, you add: "Use your hands to deal with the cheese, everyone, you guys don't want to put too much into your mouths or you'll end up choking on your own food!"

You offered the next slice to Kissy, who stared at it with sparkling eyes before taking her first bite. Huggy bites his in one go, and Driver takes the last one before Delight appears, giving you a new box, still of pepperoni.

"Thank you", you give her a nod. "C'mon, take a slice! You too, Driver".

The mini wuggy jumps from your shoulder, and Delight gives a slice to her first before taking one herself. She blinks many time. "Ooh... This is very... Interesting...?"

She gives it another bite.

"Lots of different tastes... And it's so warm and soft!"

You sigh, noticing Dogday had given his slice to a catbee. "Pizzas aren't exactly soft, but I guess they look like it, considering what you guys had to eat..."

You offer a slice to Catnap.

The feline lowers his head. "Savior, please feed the others first...", he asks. "They're hungrier than me".

"You and Dogday have a lot to learn, uh?", you shake your head. "Okay, kiddos, you heard your boss. There!", you put the box in the ground, watching as the critters stare at you, hesitant. "One slice for each, don't fight each other for more, we have a lot of boxes. Speaking of which, can someone grab the other box... Oh!"

Delight chuckles, one box in each hand. She's polite in the way she gives it to everyone, despite all her isolation. Huggy, on the other hand, is less careful thanks to his lack of proper coordination, but he manages to feed all the mini huggies with some help from Kissy.

Dogday only eats after he's sure every single other toy is doing so. By that point, you're sitting on the sofa, Poppy using a plate, knife and fork to each her own slice of pizza. Catnap merely stares.

"Oh... Ooooh!", the orange dog mutters. His tail is wagging. "A-Angel, this is incredible!"

"Nah, it's just pizza. You're going to have fancier food as soon as I get more groceries".

"Fancier food? Are... Are you sure?"

"The doctors are going to kill me if I don't give you all the nutritients", Dogday stares. "Not literally! It's just a joke!"

"Ah", he sighs, forcing himself to laugh. "Even fancier food, uh...?"

"More!", Bunzo yells, jumping up and down. "I ate two slices already, but I crave more! I think I'll explode!"

"Please don't explode", you mutter. "It hurts".

The bunny mischievously laughs, running towards the kitchen. You eye Catnap, who eyes you back with a head tilt.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"I... Ate yesterday, savior".

You hear a growl coming from his stomach. "Your 'savior' wants you to eat. Go on, you gotta get those calories. No one should starve".

For the first time since the confrontation agains the Prototype, Catnap lowers his ears and fidgets, nervously looking away from you. Around him, the small critters all eat their own slices, some trying to comfort him with a headbonk or by cuddling next to him.

"Catnap", Dogday calls. "You need to set up a good example for... Them", he points to the critters. "They aren't going to eat more if they see you aren't doing so".

"You know well how our rules work, Dogday. They eat first. Me, second".

"And now you are outside PlayCo. and playing by my own rules, kitty", you bite another slice of pizza, before offering the box to Catnap. "Go on, even Dogday and Long Legs are doing so".

"..."

Catnap's stomach once again growls. Using his hand, he takes a single slice out of the remaining three, eating it in one bite. You patiently wait for his reaction.

His eyes become brighter. His tail curls and moves left and right, and his ears go up as well. He stares at you, asking for permission, and you nod. He eats his second one almost immediately, now using both of his hands so he can take more bites and savor the taste more.

You chuckle, grabbing another box next to you and opening it for him and Dogday to share. The two bigger critters have the same sparkle in their eyes, and both go to their next slice almost at the same time.

This... Feels nice. All of this "family" stuff. Seeing them light up and talk about how this ordinary pizza is the best thing in the entire world, how they are eating so much when only at their second slice. It feels nice. They really are acting like normal kids would.

Maybe we can indeed become the parent they need...?

#poppy playtime #poppy worldwide #save everyone au #ask tag #catnap #dogday #mommy long legs #the angel #miss delight #huggy wuggy #kissy missy #ppt poppy #poppy #garca writing

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magicalcelestialgem · 10 months ago

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The Smiling Critters - CatNap Headcanons & AU info

Heyyy! I have drawn CatNap in my style/AU! I suck at poses still. And following below is some CatNap headcanons/AU info.

A little info before looking at the headcanon and AU info below:

The Smiling Critters are young adults in the AU (currently unnamed). This is CatNap as a young adult (20 years old). Art of him in his younger years will appear later in the future.

The AU will be focused primarily in the cartoon universe, with a few elements from the game.

Because the AU is still in the works, some of these planned infos/headcanons will change.

There will be ships involved, especially CatNap x DogDay.

And that’s it for now! Next would be our favorite sun dog!

Toon/Cardboard CatNap Headcanons (Game)

Headcanon Voice: Benjamin Diskin

Sounds like: Jack from Beastars, Haida from Aggretsuko

Headcanon cardboard cutout lines:

Hey, there! My name is CatNap! Have you been getting enough rest?

Oh. You haven’t? Well, sleep is very important for you!

I can help you go to sleep.

I can even you make your dreams come true!

All you have to do… is follow him…

*soft exhale*

🌙 AU Info 🌙

CatNap and DogDay lived pretty far away from each other when they were young.

CatNap is the quiet and reserved type and rarely talks. But when someone asks or tells him to talk, he talks. He talks a little more when DogDay is with him. He is only more talkative when he’s alone. Example:

🌸 CraftyCorn 🌸: Hey, CatNap! What do you think of my lavender painting?

🌙 CatNap 🌙: *thumbs up* Good.

☀️ DogDay ☀️: Hey, CatNap! How are you doing?

🌙 CatNap 🌙: *tiredly, but still smiling* I’m doing alright, DogDay? And you?

CatNap was DogDay’s very first friend. They met in elementary school. CatNap was a loner and many kids did not want to hang out with him because he was “too creepy.” DogDay was the one who insisted that he will be CatNap’s first friend. Ever since then, the dog and cat have been inseparable.

CatNap and DogDay kept in touch when they were in high school. Unfortunately, the two were in separate high schools, but they never stopped talking to each other. It’s mostly through letters as they did not have phones at the time.

CatNap slowly began to develop feelings for DogDay throughout his high school years. He gave the dog small hints and signs, but DogDay was so oblivious and dense.

CatNap left with DogDay to their new homes because not only did DogDay request he come with him, but CatNap also felt like he was ready to move out and be on his own. Not to mention weird dreams he had of a voice telling him to go with DogDay.

When DogDay and CatNap went to the mysterious land, they found their new homes. And their new pendents.

After he walked into the mysterious land, CatNap was secretly happy that his new house and DogDay’s new house are close to each other. And also the fact that his house is a cat tree and he is allowed to scratch on it.

Ever since he moved into his new house, he spent most of the day, sleeping in his new comfortable bed.

Every time CatNap visits each one of his friends’ homes and sees where they sleep, he feels tempted to save up all of his money and buy every single one of them a comfortable bed or something that can be like a bed.

CatNap, just like what his bio says, enjoys watching his friends sleep. He makes sure everyone has a good night’s rest. That includes making sure they have a nightmare-free sleep, and as he stays up, he keeps watch over his friends. Protecting them through the night. And when dawn breaks, he turns in for the day.

He loves to knead DogDay’s belly. His fur is so soft and smells of vanilla, he cannot resist making biscuits.

CatNap acts like a cat a lot. He even loafs, sleeps in such strange (yet cute) positions, and even has cat body language (slow blinking at DogDay, tail up to show he’s happy/friendly, dilating white pupils once he spots a perfect target to pounce on). And he can land on his feet.

CatNap likes to sit and sleep in boxes, sit in anything he can fit in, and pretty much sit where he wants. Why? Because he wants to and it’s comfortable.

He even said one time, “If I fits, I sits.”

One time, Bobby BearHug just hugged DogDay while CatNap was nearby. After Bobby let him go and left, CatNap just quietly went to DogDay and rubbed himself against the dog’s side like how a cat rubs itself on things, mixing his lavender scent into DogDay’s vanilla scent.

Add onto the fact that CatNap can smell who hugged/touched who. PickyPiggy is a bit of a tough one since she eats many different foods, even peppermint candies and vanilla dessert.

Ever since CatNap walked into the land that will soon become his new home and neighborhood, he has been given two breath abilities. One is lavender, but the red gas came as a last resort if someone keeps staying up late, but it also comes out if he has ill intent, negative emotions, or is under stress. Following that is magical powers, since he was chosen to represent the Moon and all of its aspects (Night, Sleep, Dreams, and Darkness).

#catnap #catnap x dogday #dogday #dogday x catnap #the smiling critters #the smiling critters headcanons #smiling critters #smiling critters au #The Protectors of Joy AU

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woneuntonzz · 10 months ago

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𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩 .ᐟˎˊ˗

📞 ; “left twix or right twix?”

𖹭 : like-a-big-brother!sungchan x afab!reader x partner in crime!wonbin

💭 wherein wonbin chose you to be his ride or die and sungchan, well he just loved sharing his twix with you.

⤷ contains: fluff, cussing (very light), humor, mention of other idol

names for world building, twix lmao

⤷ warnings: none :))

⤷ wc: 8 . 4 k !!

not proofread >:)

under the cut .ᐟ ✂ - - - -

There are things in life that are just as beautiful as the twinkling lights of the city at night. Sometimes these things are salvageable, say, like a butterfly. most butterflies would live for two to four weeks, too short. That’s why with every butterfly that flew by and over the bushes of azalea outside your home, you made sure no one would come and ruin the very little time it had on this earth.

Your young self would have a daily routine of just sitting at the front porch of your house and just watching the flying critters flit their wings. To the pair of eyes that watched through their living room window, you looked lonely. You’d beg to differ though, butterflies were the closest you were gonna get to fairies, and every moment with them is fantastical at most.

The eyes that spied on you from the confines of their house would soon join you, but he would never get too close. He just stood near your lawn, not even daring to take another step.

Your conversations were of very frivolous things, you were children after all.

“What are you doing?” —he would be blunt the first time around.

“Watching the butterflies” his eyes would shift around a bit, and after some struggle, he was finally able to spot them.

At that point he could’ve said anything else at all, but his reply was very arbitrary, “I can swim very well.”

“That’s cool, I guess.”

“You should be my friend, do you wanna?”

“Mm-hmm~”

He’d learn that your name is Y/n, you lived just across the street and you went to a different school. Every day, you would be at the bus stop with your mom, sometimes it was your grandma, and he was there too but he couldn’t talk to you with the presence of an adult. You went to a different school, to his dismay, so really he could only idle around with you during those mornings at your front porch.

Overtime, he’d see you less and less at the bus stop. Instead, while he took his steps out of their house, he’d see your dad’s car taking you to school. The next morning, he finally mustered up the courage to sit next to you, and he’d ask, “Why is your uniform different? Did your school change the uniforms?”

You giggled, he seemed genuinely concerned about the sudden change. “No silly, I go to a different school now.”

And in a blink of an eye, you were away from him. He thought it was traffic’s fault that it was taking you so long to get home, but after the fourth day, he’d resort to a different excuse. She’s probably on a vacation, with lots of butterflies —it made enough sense for him to start waiting for you to show up every morning at their front porch too, until they too had to move.

At first he opposed the idea and felt particularly betrayed by his parents for hindering his quest to await your return, but after some time of staring at your deserted house, he thought maybe they were moving to where you moved, or at least close enough for him to end up at the same school as you.

Perhaps his expectations were too much of a major leap. Still, he kept his hopes up, maybe one day he’d stumble into you again.

He would walk to the bus stop a little earlier than thirty minutes before the bus arrived. He stared at the stop across the street, and he wished everyday that ‘one day’ would be today.

The day would come where he could no longer wish. Bearing only his dwindling hope, five years later he was almost running late he had to catch the second bus. Whilst he ran, he could hear bells ringing like christmas eve —a boy with black boxy glasses and a girl with a ponytail tied with a yellow silk ribbon, both on bicycles would speed past him.

He almost missed the bus again, because the yellow silk ribbon belonged to you. He would think that recognizing your face through the years of growing apart would be nothing but an impossibility, but the innocence that embellished your eyes and the lines that drew on your face when you smiled, he could recognize them like it was yesterday when he first saw you on your front porch admiring butterflies.

What he definitely couldn’t recognize was the four-eyed kid that you cycled with to the bus stop. He’d just watch since your stop was the one across from his, so every morning, he would be across the street sitting on the wait —he not only waited for the bus, but he waited for you too. He’d observed the kind of relationship that you had with that boy, and he’s admittedly grown jealous of the way he could make you laugh and how close he would be to you all the time —or at least when you were at the stop.

It’d be like that, and you’ve always thought he looked familiar, but you never really came around with who he actually was. Highschool came around, and you would never know that one kid that always hung around every after breakfast at your front porch would be your classmate.

“Can I have some? I’m really hungry.” you were eager to get a bite of something since your activities for that day were particularly tiring —in this case you eyed an unopened packet of twix bars.

“Hmm, okay.”

The chocolate was freed from its packaging, and you were expectant, and very evidently so. Your eyes followed one bar being held up, and —snap.

“Here.” —you would receive the shorter half of the right twix bar.

“Wow, thanks Jung Sungchan.” a playful smirk would play on his lips.

“You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t much, but you’d try your best to maximize the bites you would take. Three bites, and it was gone. The last bite felt like you were being snapped out of the universe, fading away into nothing and willed to the state of inexistence.

Luckily your best friend was there to save the day. And there he was, carrying two quantities of the infamous cafeteria sandwich.

With a smile, he’d hand you one of the sandwiches. You were inspecting its edibility when you asked him, “Wait, were you saving these?”

“Yeah. p.e. hit me real hard today.”

“Wow, coming from the Park Wonbin?”

He was a track runner but eventually he’d move on to join the school’s dance team. Still, he had the stamina like that of a wolf.

“Hey Wonbin, seniors told us to meet for practice.” —Sungchan is in the dance team too.

You definitely thought he was one with the typical cool guys of your high school. He’s a football varsity, and got pretty decent grades, but he was more atypical than anything really. Other than being extremely talented, he was deemed to possess a high sense of responsibility and was appointed to be a protocol officer by the supreme student government. You called him the school eagle —his eyes sealed the deal. He was such a watcher, sometimes you felt like not moving at all fearing that moving at the wrong angle for even just a few inches might get you in detention.

Somehow, though, you never got sent to detention. You weren’t a troublemaker per say, but you’ve had your fair share of late arrivals, and under cloudy weather your teacher might just announce your detainment to the whole class just because you stood from your seat a little earlier than everyone else when class was dismissed.

Sungchan was in charge of taking people to detention, but when it was time to turn in the transgressors, he’d just go on to tell you, “Meh, not really in the mood to send people in there today, besides, detention should be illegal, don’t you think?”

Now who wouldn’t agree to that? “I think so too!”

A faint chime of bells —a sigh would leave Sungchan’s lips, one you wouldn’t catch for yourself because all of your attention would lie on your best friend who rode his pure black bicycle.

“Hi Binnie!” you’d wave your hand and exclaim like a child.

“Hi Y/n-nie, I thought you got detention?” Wonbin was genuinely surprised to see you out of school, the humiliation your teacher put you through would've been enough to kick you straight into the disciplinary dungeon —students liked to call it that.

“Oh, that? Sungchan got me out, ain’t that right Channie?”

Sungchan nods at you like a puppy, with strikingly excited eyes. He finally got himself a nickname. It didn’t even matter if it sounded like Binnie that he hated hearing so much, it was from you, and that was all that mattered.

Your next stop —the bus stop. It was the same one you and Wonbin always cycled to every morning since you became each other’s ride or die, the same stop Sungchan stared into whilst he wondered if you could still remember.

Whether you remembered or not, it was certain you moved on. You were just children anyways. That swimmer kid was cute, friendly, and funny for being his outlandish self. But you couldn’t even remember his name, Susan? Sangchin? —whatever it was, he would be just another memory you’d grow apart from. Either way, you already had Wonbin.

Yet, Wonbin was so hard to love. You’ve heard it all before, never fall in love with your best friend. He was once a timid boy that wore thick frames and was a bumble-borne. You befriended him because you thought you could be that one nerdy duo since you were so nerdy. You’ve both had your handful of friends, but in the end you would end up being there for each other when outcasted from the rest. It’d be easy to say you’re attached to each other, it’s already been a good seven years of rushed bike rides and chasing each other in empty spaces. Your friendship would be the foundation for your shared felicity and solace.

The prime of your wretched feelings would root from your middle school days.

“Do I look okay?” you heard Wonbin ask from behind you.

You turned around, and it would take you a while to actually look at him because you were busy fixing —or trying to fix— his glasses which hinges went loose causing its temples to break off. “You look great.”

“You haven’t even looked yet.”

“Okay drama queen, hold up.” you set aside his poor glasses and the roll of tape you had worn on your wrist.

When you finally spared him your eyes, suddenly your glands were producing double the hormones. “Ew.” is what you’d utter, contrary to what you truly felt. Smitten, suddenly your best friend was too attractive for your eyes.

You would try to forget about that embarrassing moment —embarrassing for it was one-sided. You’d feel mortified over your own shenanigans and the fact that he never even knew you did karate with the air in your room later that night by the sheer thought of him.

You’d think that was it, that it was only your man’s journey to self-discovery —but he was just so attractive when he ran the track. You are what you eat, and everyday you’d feed yourself with your delusions. Your practice of being touchy and soft with each other with your sudden upsurge of attraction for him was not a good combo at all.

Hand holding, side hugs, linking arms, resting your head on each other’s shoulder, it all used to be in your best friend etiquette, but because he couldn’t stop your heart from pumping a thousand beats per minute, there would be a shift. Boundaries were established later on, it felt just right since you were both changing and heading towards the confounding parts of your adolescence. You would be less touchy, perception growing as quickly as your bodies changed.

Now he’d let his hair grow a little longer, would occasionally get a trim to follow school regulations, and he’d get rid of his glasses, though would still have them on when he needed them. He definitely got dapper, more charming. Eventually, you wouldn’t be the only one subjected to his attraction, and he’d hold his title as a ladies’ man.

His timidity was long gone for sure, but if he were being honest, your attention was all he needed. He didn’t need, nor asked for the love notes stuck on his desk, or the letters stuffed in his locker. Still, he’d go through all of them, thinking maybe one of them might be from you.

Him catching feelings for you was an absurd idea, but every day you’ve spent with him felt like a spark, that maybe would ignite the flames of your affinity. He saw the way tables have turned —then, he used to be the one to shy away from physical contact, more than often blushing even, and of course you'd just be your enthusiastic self. Now, he was the one who’d usually initiate skinship, smiling at your inept attempts of seeming unbothered. You’d gulp and inhale thick air whenever he gave you compliments also, and in his eyes you’d be his cute, little best friend —little, because he was a few inches taller but wouldn’t want to be discredited for only being a little loftier.

Even then, your bond would only grow and it thrived with your little escapades like staying out after school till curfew, making shameless excuses to your parents that convinced them enough that you were just really studious and preferred after school till curfew group studies. For that though, you were obligated to maintain above average grades, it was hard, but it was crucial to mask your leisure.

You’re a fairly active student, the type to not feel anxious over giving the wrong answer because you believed redemption could be achieved by anyone who knew the right steps to take. School was definitely not easy, but it shouldn’t be made complicated. You’d learn to sort your priorities, separating academics from the twists and turns of your life.

“Left twix or right twix?” —school would still encompass such interesting encounters nonetheless.

It was the first time Sungchan would raise this offer, and you tittered at him for being a believer of the left twix versus right twix agenda. “There’s no difference anyways.”

He took his time, basking in your sweet, sweet laughter before he replied, “No, but just imagine—” he takes out both bars from its packaging, holding them out with both hands. “This is me—” he’d bring the left one forward a little, “—and this is Wonbin.” then the right.

Under a frolicsome mood, you wore a grin as you reached for the right twix, but he’d move it away. “Hey!”

“Wow, I’m giving you my chocolate and you still hate me.”

“It doesn’t mean I hate you, but I like Binnie more.” —way more. With a bitter smile, he gave you the right twix, but not without snapping off an inch. “Sungchan.”

“What? If i’m a full twix bar and this is Wonbin, it should at least be accurate and Wonbin’s definitely not as tall as me.” you broke into a chortle from his unserious justification.

“Wonbin is still tall though, besides, you probably want more for yourself just to spite me.”

“Untrue.” he took the piece he snapped off and held it close to your lips. “This little piece can be you then, have it.”

“Are you’re trying to say I’m just about an inch of your height?”

“More like a foot, but yeah.”

He fed you the small piece, eyes following the movement of your lips as you bit on it. “Thank you, Channie.”

There truly was no difference between the left and the right side, he just wanted to test something out, to check how likely you were to pick the left twix —to pick him.

You would wonder why he seemed to always have a packet of twix with him, and why he always hit you with the left or right question. You always answered right, and he always snapped it to the same length, giving you both pieces. You thought maybe instead of left and right, he thought of it as him and Wonbin still, like the first time he asked you. It was such a bold assumption to make, especially when you treated him like an older brother. He was waggish, not much of a prankster, but he knew how to turn a smile upside down and at the same time, he was dutiful, and caring at times needed.

It was something about him you thought you didn’t have to second guess. Well, while he did help you stay out of detention for all the times you were sent there, you figured he might’ve done that for his friends too.

“Dude, please, I can’t get detention today. I don’t have any other excuse for getting home late again.”

“Bro, you know I have to turn you in, if not I might get in trouble.”

Okay, maybe not all his friends. Overhearing their smalltalk made you think back on all the times he’s gotten you out of trouble. Shouldn’t he have been kicked from the supreme student government if he really faced any consequences for never taking you into the disciplinary dungeon?

“Hey Channie?”

Sungchan had never stood up so fast in his life. “Yes? Is there anything I could do for you?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to ask you something, is it okay?”

“Yeah! of course, go ahead, hit me.”

“So I heard you and your friend talking the other day…” Sungchan anxiously swiped his tongue over his top lip as he waited for you to continue speaking. “Did I get you in trouble for saving me from detention?��

He profusely shook his head and would briskly reply, “No, not at all. Don’t you worry about it.”

You kept your eyes locked with his, and you’d furrow your brows and squint your eyes in jest, displacing your doubt with a playful scowl. His eyes would widen in the slightest bit, chuckling at your mien.

“You know I always got your back.” —he meant it as a sign that you’d hopefully pick up on, but you learned to just not question his sweet gestures, all the big and all the small.

But from that day forth, you haven’t gotten detention, not even a single warning. Sungchan wouldn’t acknowledge your efforts till one the day you would be waiting for the early morning bus beside him, and you weren’t with your best friend like you usually were.

“Y/n, you’re early today. Where’s Wonbin?”

“Still asleep probably. I already told him I wanted to go to school early, but he didn’t meet me at the exit street.” you yawned, carefully ridding the water in your eyes with your fingers. “I waited for him there for thirty minutes, but I just went ahead. Can’t miss the first bus.”

Sungchan blinked a couple of times, trying to process what he was hearing. The morning haze was quite strong, and it was getting to his head. If she chose to not wait for him, she wanted to ride the bus with me, right? —his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of you clearing your throat.

“How about you? you seem pretty early too.” your query had left him flustered for a second.

Truth be told, he would come that early in the morning to wait for you, and unfortunately for Wonbin too. However, in all of those mornings, you’d assume he had just gotten there like you have, and for that, he deserves an oscar. Though, there were mornings where he wouldn’t he wouldn’t be there, it was the days you got detention for arriving late at school. Sungchan could take the risk, but would rather not get himself in any trouble as a part of the student government.

“I ate some good breakfast today so I was in the mood to go to school a little earlier.” He sounded convincing enough, so you’d just shrug your shoulders.

The first bus was less full, with one or two vacant seats left at the back, and you sat next to him somewhere in the middle. Before you were sat though, he would place a hand on top of your head, anchoring you where you stood and rushing past you —and you thought he did that so he could have the window seat to himself, but instead he got himself settled on the aisle seat, giving the seat next to him a little tap, signaling you to sit down.

“You’re unbelievable.” your words came out in an exhale as you sat down, struggling a bit because his lanky legs were in the way.

“And you're just so cute!” he’d do that thing where he’d shake his head, pointing a pout at you.

His supposedly teasing little gesture would cause your mouth to fall open, just enough to express the cringe you caught from his tomfoolery. “Ew, what the hell.”

“What?” he’d laugh at you —quietly, for the sake of paying respect to the other people in the bus— and for a second, would wear a smirk on his face, “But seriously, you’re really cute, you know.”

Your brows would lift itself along with the dilation of your eyes. He did sound genuine, but it was just a sheer compliment, one you didn’t hear often, but still, you took it as words he pulled out of the kindness of his heart.

That day, Wonbin got to school eight minutes late.

“Sorry, I forgot we were supposed to be early today.” he’d tell you during lunch time, barely having touched his food.

“It’s okay, be sorry to yourself. You’re being sent to detention today —eat your food Binnie.” you watched his hasty movements, taking a bite out of his already lukewarm food. “You should practice being early too.”

“Is that why you wanted to be early?” he’d reply as soon as he got the food down his throat. “Sungchan kept you out of detention, didn’t he?”

“Yeah but, he might get in loads of trouble if he kept covering for others.”

Wonbin only nods. “I guess I better be careful then.”

When Sungchan took him to that horrid room, he’d reflect on —not his actions, but rather, Sungchan’s. Wonbin could tell that he stuck around you often, so often that there was no way you couldn’t discern his mellow doting, but you didn’t notice at all, did you? And from the very conversation you had with Wonbin at the cafeteria, he’d conclude that maybe, you like —or at least was starting to like Sungchan as well, he took it as if you were only staying out of trouble just for Sungchan.

But there’s no way, Wonbin had only ever seen you with a rosey shade on your cheeks when you were with him, him and not Sungchan. He would be awakened from his nap by the detention monitor, and he would wake up with a new purpose. Like track and field, he was determined to stretch himself far enough to be able to reach you, to earn you once he pushed through the finish line tape.

For the next following days, he’d wake up before the chickens could cluck, and he got to the exit street first and waited for you. He kept up the routine, even when he was tired from p.e. or dance practice the previous day, he’d greet you with a sheepish grin like he was telling you that he beat you to being the proficient early bird.

When it had all started, Sungchan was utterly bewildered —but even more let down, but he’d never show it, to you especially. He had no reason to feel perplexed even, you saying that you waited for Wonbin the previous day on which he failed to show up should’ve been a hint that the four eyed kid —now not so four eyed— would stick around. For a while you would think he was excited to see Wonbin because he got more fired up, fired up in a positive way it seemed.

Little did you know, they’d softly scoff after one of them spoke. Now they were sure of their competition, and you would be oblivious of it all. Fortunately for Wonbin, you still had heart eyes for him, which Sungchan would catch up to quickly. He’d try to contest it by helping you with anything and everything, humorous pick-up lines evolving into actual and genuine compliments, and when he had the chance, he would approach you when he sensed the gloominess in your demeanor and turn your frown upside down. If there was anything that didn’t change, it was of course, the never-ending left twix or right twix query.

“Left twix or right twix?” he held the half-opened packet to your face.

Without sparing him an answer, you’d snatch the right twix. Sungchan’s bittersweet chuckle subsided quickly when you snapped the bar yourself, popping the shorter piece into your mouth first. “You never run out of twix bars huh?”

But he was surely running out of time. Perhaps his practice of splitting the bar in uneven lengths was foreshadowing, if you and Wonbin came from the same twix bar that he split up, that would mean you two are each other’s halves. Stupid —he felt stupid in love.

He had a twix bar and a dream, but Wonbin had you close already. Besides, what could a split bar of chocolate do? Everytime Wonbin saw that pathetic excuse of a conversation being pulled out of Sungchan’s bag, he made sure to bring you a nice and cold bottle of honey ice tea to wash down the sugars. It was your favorite too, now how could a twix bar ever compare to that?

Their antics would persist with time, still no one made any substantial efforts. And by the time you were in your senior year, you would think the two have just gotten closer, but with that they’d confront each other —prom night hung by a thread, and it was getting close.

“What’s your plan? gonna pull out a giant twix bar?” sickly was all it sounded to Sungchan.

“I already asked her. She said yes.” Wonbin’s assertive facade would break when he heard the certitude in Sungchan’s voice.

“She did?”

“Yeah, funny I used a twix bar too.”

A quick and defeated exhale would fall off of Wonbin’s lips that would soon display a weak smile, “Good for you.” he had lost races before, practically got used to the feeling, because he knew there was always room for improvement, and that there would be another race for him to win.

However, this race would have him limping. He does admit he was a little careless sometimes, still giving away his time to talk to a previous admirer before politely rejecting them, it wasn’t for a long time, it lasted for a good two days, but after those two days, it would take a while for Wonbin to win back your laughter —a while being a little over a week. For a minute he thought you were bound to grow apart by the end of highschool, but he’d almost go crazy over your shy glances and the slight stutter in your voice whenever he said something out of the best friend zone.

“You should’ve joined the school band, or the choir.” he says moments after he voiced out to you his concerns for college.

You sat up, lifting your head from his shoulder to answer him. “I considered, but I got too... scared.”

“How about this, promise me you’d be more open to showing off your talent to people —I know you love to sing, you’d love it even more when you realize through others how wonderful you actually are.” his hand would slowly move close to yours. “Performing might help you love yourself in some way.”

“Okay, okay, I promise.” you held out your pinky, and he’d intertwine his own with it.

“You have a beautiful voice. So, so beautiful.” you weren’t certain if he had intended for you to hear the last part, as it would be a little faint, but you heard it.

In a hospital, you’d be close to the state of losing life just by how rapid your heartbeat was going and how hot you were, matching the crimson spread across your face. Wonbin kept your pinkies intertwined, who knows, that might be the last one you’d have.

Prom night inched closer, and closer, and a week before you were growing anxious. Then news would fly by of a lucky girl, so lucky that she got Park Wonbin to ask her out to prom.

Let’s just say, you weren’t lucky at all. Devastating, heart wrenching, you had used every word in your mind’s dictionary to describe how you felt, at that point you couldn’t really run to your best friend to cry when he was the sole reason for your heartache, so to whom do you go to?

You sniffled, expelling a weak laughter through your stuffy nose before you’d say, “I want the left one.”

“Really? why?”

“Cause he left—” sniffle, “—he left me.”

Sungchan was only now realizing just how much you actually liked Wonbin. His guilt would arise, and he would look back on the moment he had deceived Wonbin to believing he already had you as his prom date when he hadn't even composed a proper plan to ask you out.

“Take it.” He gave you both bars.

“Do you not want any?”

“No, I want you to have it.”

You ate your heart away, tears dissolving into nothingness once you’ve had a sweet bite of his succor. Sungchan offered you his water bottle, and it was half full of warm lemonade. You’d never expect him to carry around a bottle of hot lemonade, still you’d drink it. It was perfectly tart and sweet, like comfort in a cup. Soon enough, you were feeling a bit more lively and somehow felt like you needed to pop him a question.

“Who’s the lucky girl you’re taking to prom?”

You were flustered to hear him laugh a bit as he spoke, “I don’t have one, actually.”

“Wait, really? not even one of the girls who held up those big signs that said ‘marry me jung sungchan’ in your football matches?”

“I’d only take a girl I actually like. I don’t want to pretend to be enjoying myself around someone I’m not familiar with.”

You didn’t know what was in the air that day, but for a while you’d glance out the window, there was a butterfly —you used to love them so much, as a kid you’d always be there to accompany them, it was his fault you’d grow out of it —that little boy. Your glee that was once those tiny fairy-like creatures soon took the form of that little boy, but why were you suddenly just reminiscing about that childhood crush you had? it wasn’t like you’d meet him again, he could be an olympic swimmer for all you know.

“I wanna be your lucky girl.” six small words were enough to make a mess of the big guy that he is.

The next thing you knew, he was picking you up from your house. “Shit.” he’d only seen a glimpse of you through your living room window but he was already fumbling, sweaty palms and all. And when you finally stepped out of the door, all eleven organ systems in his body would start malfunctioning. You were even more beautiful than those azaleas or the garden butterflies that flew over them. He was so lost in your grace that you had to snap him out of it.

“These looked like the ones we had back at my childhood home. They’re beautiful Chan, thank you.” you held the bouquet close enough to get a whiff of its scent.

They were azaleas, other than butterflies, it was these flowers that reminded him of you. Did he know what flowers they were the first time he saw them? no, but did he remember its appearance clearly enough for him to spot it within an array of several other flowers? Well of course he did.

“They remind me of you.”

“Wait, really? how?”

He wanted to say it —I used to swim very well— but for some reason, he held back. “Cause you’re beautiful, Y/n.”

It was the first time you’d actually feel your face heat up because of his compliments. However, this one sounded different, and soon you were shying away from his gaze, trying to hide the ridiculous color spreading throughout your face.

That night, you saw Wonbin with his date. For a while, you’d convince yourself that you were in the stage of acceptance, it was time to let go. But then, your efforts of avoiding him were vanquished, he only seemed to be appearing in your sight more and more throughout the night. He looked so… happy, happy like he was with you, but you were a couple meters apart, only giving each other abrupt glances.

The night would end, with your eyes brimmed with tears, face to face with Wonbin at the back of the gymnasium where no one else could see.

“I like you Wonbin.” was not what he expected at all.

He was already shaken by your watery eyes when you had asked him to talk for a while. “But, why’d you say yes to Sungchan?”

“Because you had already asked Lia out.” and I thought you would ask me —you could only finish it in your head, too afraid that you might just be going crazy.

“Wait, Sungchan told me you already were his date before I asked Lia.”

Suddenly, your tears would dry up. Your brows furrowed, feeling a great sense of betrayal. “I wasn’t. He's only my date now because he didn’t have a date either.” your voice became a little more stable, your anguish diminishing, and in its place would surface, the feeling of being misled.

“Y/n, I liked you too.” Wonbin, for a short while, would look out into the lights of the gymnasium that seeped through the ajar door.

Lia was waiting for him. While he had his moments of sorrow, he’d be by himself, and he’d find that she, a beam of sunlight, gave him enough motivation to look a little farther into the future. His feelings for you, while it did linger, would eventually dwindle from the thought that maybe you had been more fond of Sungchan after all. Now that it was refuted, all he really felt was confusion. His worries would lie with you, but mostly it was for the girl who he had told to wait for him, the one he had already made promises to.

“Let’s stay best friends, yeah?”

Just a little later, you'd be back at the table where you had left Sungchan, and he was still there, his doe eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “How’d it go?”

“Why would you do that?”

He instantly knew what you were talking about, and with an anxious breath of air, he said, “Y/n, I didn’t think he’d take it seriously.”

“Seriously?”

He was being honest though, he thought Wonbin would’ve double checked with you, he thought, if Wonbin really wanted to have you as his date, he could’ve had you instead of some other girl, right?

Now, there could be a billion ways to apologize, but chose to play safe, saving his confession for some other point in time. Forgiving him wouldn’t come as easy as he thought it’d be —what a man, too sure of himself for his own good. He took his time, being extra cautious and keeping his tranquility to take care of yours. You’d be nonchalant with him, something he’d never get used to, but even then, he was the same —if not more altruistic. For a while you’d feel bad for shunning him when he gave you most of his energy every day for you to reconsider his apology. But the whole ordeal at prom night was cauterized into your soul. Wonbin would only and quite literally be your best friend forever, not even really forever.

You wouldn’t really say your friendship with him was at the verge of falling apart, but you most certainly weren’t spending as much time as you used to with him. You wished you could bring the old times back, you wished you had asked him to prom yourself. But the chances were long gone, you were already in college, still with a handful folks you’ve gone to highschool with —and the most notable of the few, Sungchan and Wonbin.

Much to your dismay, Wonbin would stray a little further from you, taking a major that was way too different from yours. Though, you made sure to make time for each other whenever you could, in the meantime, you’d have your moments with the only person you felt comfortable enough to stick by.

“Left or right?”

Your first instinct has always been to grab the right bar. “I’ll be on my way, Wonbin just texted me that he’d been in the mall since five. I’ll see you for group study tomorrow!”

You were in a hurry because it was already five-thirty. You chose the right one again, but at least you weren’t rejecting his offer anymore, unlike when you haven't forgiven him for his deception. You’ve come to terms with just letting it go, and you believed he deserved your forgiveness because he treated you so well, maybe too well even. You saw a shift in Sungchan, he was a lot more —sincere? genuine? honest?— honestly, it’s quite hard to pinpoint which one it is, but he was all that and more.

Just letting it go was a painful process, especially when you still had to maintain your friendship with the very man that pulled on your heartstrings and cut them off. After everything that went down that night, you two became evidently distant, but only for a considerable while. Getting back to bff terms just came naturally and there was no actual talk about what happened that fateful night in your old highschool’s gymnasium.

At this point, you were so close to accepting the fact that you’re only fated to meet a friend just to be a friend and nothing more if you wish to be nothing less. Maybe the best friend rule was right, maybe you should’ve been more rational.

Your movie night with Wonbin would end with him giving you a very light hug, and words that would trigger your past misgivings, “I’m meeting Lia again tomorrow, just catching up, she’s at the neighboring campus, are you free tomorrow?”

You gripped tightly on the the straps of your bag, trying to look for something, anything that could possibly affect him the same way. “I’m pretty packed tomorrow, Sungchan and I are preparing for multiple tests coming this week.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodluck! and tell him I said good luck too.”

His unfazed visage left a stinging in your heart. Why did he have to grow his hair out to a length that made him look so alluring when he’s choosing to act unbothered by your sly hinting? sure, he wasn’t as beautiful as a bouquet of azaleas but still, it was unfair.

“You good? you seem very down today.”

You were thankful the group study was not just a blatant last-minute excuse even though it might’ve sounded like one when you spoke it.

“Did something happen last night?” Sungchan would quickly catch up with the shift of expression on your face, so he’d add, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I look fine, right? like, just okay?” he was taken aback with your question and your voice that just sounded so tired.

You just had your eyes on each other, after a while his eyes would move down slowly as he said to you, “I don’t know about everyone else, but I think you’re really pretty.” his eyes would shift back to yours that fluttered with his dulcet words. “I really love your eyes.”

He really did, he always have. He loved your watchful orbs that glistened against the harsh sunlight, lashes flitting with the morning breeze as your irises followed the butterflies.

That day was suddenly not so bad.

The times you’ve met with Wonbin to catch up would be a time for revelations. You’d learn that he’d made a lot of friends —quite a friend group they are, just a group of pretty and talented people. Wonbin seemed to be handed opportunities left and right, and you were happy for him, it’s just that when it was your turn to share the events of your life, you’d be empty handed, and occasionally would tell him that you’ve been busy with projects, tests and whatnot. You’d feel mortified, having him feel bad for you when everything was going well for him. Those meets would lead to gruesome mornings the following day, but luckily, Sungchan’s always there to mend you.

“Say ‘ah’” you’d part your lips, just enough for Sungchan to feed you a twix bar.

When the chocolate in your mouth was almost gone, you ask him, “Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted the left or the right one?”

“Well, did you want a specific bar?”

“Hmm, maybe? I mean, I would’ve chosen the left bar.”

It wouldn’t take you a while to familiarize yourself with Sungchan —him and his everything, his routine, his favorite things, his little habits, his comforting patterns, he was unlike any other guy you’ve met despite him appearing to be on the surface. He’d give you a sense of hope every time you felt like closing your eyes and falling into an eternal slumber, and eventually, he would become a reason for you to wake yourself up everyday.

While he’s explained to you the things you could still observe with your own eyes, you wanted to know more, to understand him a little better like he did so well with you. You were hesitant to go past standard questions, but he’d encourage you to continue asking him whatever. He answered every question, from his highschool life to his very upbringing. You��d learn that he wasn’t always a football player, he used to be a very well-equipped swimmer, and that the place his family used to live where you used to live, and that— wait, he was a swimmer? —you’d interrupt your train of thoughts. Sungchan wasn’t even there anymore, but you were still thinking about everything he had told you earlier that day.

You’d take your time to think again, about that little boy that lived across from your house. He was a swimmer, and what are the chances he’d become a football player? What are the chances that that little boy is now the not so little Jung Sungchan?

“Left or ri—” you’d bite the left twix from his hand, locking it in between your lips. “Oh, okay. Do you want the other one? I’m not really hungry right now.”

“No, no—” chew, “Have it. And while you’re eating, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, anytime. There’s no need for you to ask if it’s okay.” he took a bite out of the twix bar he held.

“What do you think of butterflies?” —he’d stop chewing for a while and his eyes would light up like a night sky of constellations.

“I’ve always thought they’re very pretty, but I know I could never love them as much as you did.” —so it wasn’t Susan or Sangchin, it’s Sungchan.

“Oh, so you didn’t become an olympic swimmer?”

Relief and felicity, there was nothing else in Sungchan’s mind and soul —nothing else but you. His butterfly-loving Y/n whose beauty surpassed even the most well-nourished of azaleas, everything about you, to him, was the closest God had ever gotten to perfection.

From then on, you would tell each other stories, the hows and whys of your detachment.

“We moved because of my dad’s work, but I was sad because I thought I'd never see you again ever —but you’re here now. I gotta admit though, I kinda forgot most of what we had then, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I understand. All that matters to me is you still love butterflies —I mean, that you’re still happy.”

“Thank you Chan. How about you? Why did your family move?”

“Well, I spent like, what? four years maybe? —I was practically begging my parents to move me to a better school, y’know, because…”

“Because?”

“I wanted to be with you. I love you Y/n, I always have, haven’t I told you?”

His confession was something you didn’t foresee, but he didn’t either. It was all unplanned, but he just felt like it was the right moment. Just you and him at the most tranquil site on campus. He wanted to lean in, to just close the already little distance that separated the two of you, but he didn’t. He wanted you to be willing, to give him an avowal that you felt the same. It was only then that you’d start seeing him beyond his brotherly demeanor.

Tomorrow would be the first day that Sungchan would fulfill his duties as your suitor.

First thing in the morning, he’d pick you up, three rhythmic knocks on your door was all it took for your heart to start tumbling and jumping from your chest. And everytime he opened the door, you’d be met with a pair of lively eyes that would become fervent when he finally had you close to him. You two were always together, so much so that it was hard to spot the two of you in two different places at the same time. At hectic times, you’d confine yourselves in each other’s presence. A twix bar and a smile was all and everything that could relieve the two of you of your frustrations.

Your birthday, unfortunately, was an exam day —something both you and him can’t miss for your life. You studied all morning, and before you could snooze away, he’d start to randomly play songs and dance around, dismissing the judgemental eyes that watched him caper. If that wouldn’t work, he’d lay his weight on you like a baby, pushing his nose against your cheek or shoulder. You just hoped you didn’t look too annoyed, because if you were being honest, you thought you would’ve never been able to answer anything on that test at all if it weren’t for him and his foolish, but sweet pokes.

After such a long day, you two would be sat next to each other at an empty stairwell in campus, somehow, for you it felt like sitting at your old front porch all over again.

“Happy birthday!”

“Not really happy, I feel like I got half of the answers wrong.”

“Oh? birthday!” once upon a time, Sungchan could only hope he’d be the one to evoke your sugared laughter through your hardships, but now, he had it all to himself which was more than he could ever ask for.

You watched as he fished a packet of twix, and with a cheeky smile, you’d snatch it from him. “Oh.” was all he could utter, dispensing another guffaw out of you.

You opened it, holding both bars with two hands. Holding out the left bar, “So imagine this is you.” and then the other, “And this is me—” he takes that bar out of your hand using his lips, munching away as you laughed, “Hey! I wasn’t done yet!”

He could only laugh with you, coughing slightly from the sudden sugar attacking his throat. “Okay, o—” cough, “Sorry.”

“What I was meaning to say was—” you took a minute to admire the boy in front of you who stared at you with such fondness and anticipation. “We’re like twix bars. This is gonna sound so cheesey…”

His chortle would make you shy away from his gaze, but he was quick to assure you, “Go ahead, cheesey or not, all that matters is that you mean it.” it was all jested words for encouragement, but he’d soon realize that his jovial advice would apply greatly.

“Well, I was gonna say, we’re like twix bars. Say one twix bar is you, and the other is me. If you break it in half and misplace it, you might just confused which half belongs to which half, so, technically speaking, no matter the consequence, we’d be each other’s other half.”

He had his lips pressed together, like supressing a laugh, but what it truly was is him fighting the urge to just jump you and shower you with all his affection.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I wasn’t gonna!”

“Yeah you were.”

“Were not, you’re just really cute, that’s all.” he’d gently pinch your cheek, but you remained expressionless, so he’d start poking it, progressively becoming a little more pushy, until— “Y/n—”

It took a lot of your power, but you were able to grab him by the wrist, the hand that poked on your face would now be linked with yours, not only that, but your lips were locked too.

“I love you too Sungchan.” “Your lips tastes like twix.” —you’d spew at the same time after pulling away from each other.

Your own laughters were the only thing you could hear, nothing else but each other would matter as your lips would soon attach to each other again.

“Wait, Sungchan, don’t you think we should be somewhere more, I don’t know, private?”

“Sorry, your lips just really taste like twix, I can’t help it.”

It wasn’t really because of the remnants of chocolate on your lips, he just wanted to go all in, as if he already hadn’t gotten you all to himself at that point.

Though, it would be quite an interesting story to tell. Jung Sungchan, who used to swim very well, met a girl who loved to watch butterflies from their front porch. He fell in love, but she wouldn’t reciprocate after a few fifty twix bars. Maybe Wonbin was the one who’d been foreshadowing with precision, because Sungchan had a twix bar, and a dream in the form of you. And he hoped that maybe, some time in the future, you’d be watching butterflies at the front porch of the house you would share in morning and bask in each other’s love for the rest of the day, and maybe forever too.

End.

#riize #briize #riize fanfic #riize au #riize x reader #riize fluff #riize sungchan #riize wonbin #jung sungchan #park wonbin #riize imagines #Spotify

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