#I have probably spent more minutes of my life thinking about this than Cage ever did

[nothinggathers]

I'm about to go off on a long tangent about the Kamski test here because I have spent far too many minutes of my life thinking about it. My apologies.

So the Kamski Test was "Shoot this android and I'll tell you everything I know, or spare it if you think it's alive." Or at least that's what Kamski says. But Connor's a computer and his instructions are to find deviants, and within the scope of finding deviants is pursuing information and sucking up to Hank Anderson.

Kamski, who does nothing but act like an obtuse melodramatic fuckwit from the moment we meet him, claims to have information that might be helpful to Connor. Except there's no evidence of that. So Connor, as a computer, has to weigh up the probability of Kamski both having helpful information and willingly handing it over if he shoots the Chloe (which, by the way, entirely depends on which question you ask because Kamski is nothing if not an obtuse melodramatic fuckwit).

Meanwhile, Connor's mission parameters are easier to achieve if he sucks up to Hank. He gets access to evidence and crime scenes this way. Sucking up to Hank makes his life easier.

And by this point one thing Connor has definitely learned about Hank is that Hank gets upset if Connor shoots deviants that aren't actively attacking them. Connor's meant to be bringing them in alive anyway, so this is fine by Connor's mission standards.

The second Kamski tells Connor to shoot the Chloe Hank tells him not to. Which means that Kamski's little test is no longer about any sense of empathy Connor might have, but becomes a computer picking between two weighted priorities. Find information (33% likelihood) and upset Hank (100% likelihood) or refuse (information gained 0) and make Hank happy (100% likelihood).

Connor has a pretty good shot at coming away from that interaction with nothing useful and his relationship with Hank damaged, or he can still come away with nothing useful and his relationship with Hank intact or even improved.

So why would he shoot the Chloe?

Because he's desperate. Because Amanda's pressuring him, and time is running out, and he knows that failure of the mission means his deactivation. Because he's programmed to react with a visceral horror to the possibility of failure.

He'd have to be desperate to take the chance on Kamski's information. Either his relationship with Hank is already in the tank, or the fear of death is getting to him and he prioritises a slim chance at gaining something quickly over the certain knowledge that Hank, who can have already shot him at this point, will be extremely pissed.

What's I'm saying is that shooting Chloe should have been the deviant option, driven out of fear rather than logic.

And what about Kamski? He's the smartest man on the planet, and he built androids, he should know that the second Hank says "Connor, don't" his test is null, right?

Unless he's not actually testing Connor.

Kamski knows he has at least one deviant among his Chloes. If Connor shoots the kneeling Chloe and then asks about Jericho, another Chloe transmits the location to him via interface. Only deviants get the location of Jericho because it's passed from deviant to deviant. "It means one of us trusted you enough" is what Markus gets told.

There are two Chloes in the swimming pool when you enter that room. One of them reacts to what's going on in the room, including staring at Connor as he leaves, and turning away from the scene when Connor refuses to shoot.

But she doesn't say anything. She doesn't try to stop it. She doesn't reveal herself (unless Connor shoots the other Chloe and asks the right questions).

So was Kamski really testing that Chloe's desire to cling to her own life? She can't risk revealing herself to save the other Chloe because it puts everything on the line.

Unless Connor shoots that Chloe, and then she surrenders Jericho when ordered to.

It was probably the only shot she had at preserving her own life. But it meant letting other androids die.

A test of empathy. Would she put herself before others?

TL;DR Elijah Kamski is an obtuse melodramatic fuckwit who wasn't just screwing with Connor during that scene.

i’m about to say something so controversial and not brave. kamski gives me elon musk vibes

[cookinguptales]

wwdits tarot: the empress

Okay, so I’ve already talked about The Empress and The Emperor, but I’ve never found a subject that I couldn’t manage to talk about more.

(I’m… so sorry. For who I am. lmao)

So yeah, okay, here’s III. The Empress.

I was a little unclear before which of the two I’d assign as The Empress and which was The Emperor, but I’ve made my decision. A typical differentiation between The Empress and Emperor is one of gender; The Empress is a mother figure and The Emperor a father one. But both The Sire and The Baron seem to identify as male while having no genitalia that lets them physically sire offspring (I……….. think) so that’s not really a good way to split them.

Instead, I’d like to focus more on other aspects of both cards. The Emperor also has a thread of the ruling class to it, while The Empress tends to emphasize more abundance. So… yes, I decided to make The Sire The Empress.

I’ll elaborate more on The Baron as ruler and leader later, but for now, I’ll focus on The Sire’s abundance.

Now, The Empress is a hugely maternal card. It symbolizes motherhood, nurturing, abundance, femininity, nature, etc. It’s not just literal motherhood but also the sense of something greater than all of us that birthed and sustains us all. Think… Mother Nature. That kind of situation.

The Sire, though presumably unable to sire physical children, actually has more descendants than anyone else — even probably Genghis Khan, Colin. Every vampire that has ever been and ever will be is descended from The Sire, and he is actually peculiarly… nonviolent, compared to other vampires of his stature.

He has seen all, it seems, and he has seen all fade away. He has spent eternity locked in a tiny, little box. And when he finally escapes, he doesn’t take revenge on anyone. He doesn’t attack anyone except for necessary sustenance and to escape from people he thinks are trying to kill him. And when he realizes that no one is trying to hurt him, he stops fighting back and instantly acquiesces to his new home with The Baron.

Let’s all be real with each other, would most vampires in his situation be so chill about all that? God. Just imagine if Nadja were locked in that room for five minutes. Nah. For a vampire, The Sire actually seems somewhat gentle, for all that he’s a terrifying, ageless little gremlin.

If you ask me, there’s a sweet sort of fondness between The Sire and The Baron, like The Baron has taken him by the hand and is finally introducing him to a modern world that he barely understands himself, and The Sire in turn never makes The Baron feel like he is any less than he should be. The two of them do seem like a partnership, and one that’s strongly associated with being the mom and dad (or I guess dad and dad, or sire and sire) of the main group. And if anything, it seems like being around The Sire has calmed The Baron quite a bit. He’s gone downright domestic by the time we see him in The Wedding.

THEY’RE IN LOVE

So… I think it’s fair to say that The Sire fulfills the sense of gentleness, fertility, and abundance that we need for The Empress — or at least as much as any character in this show might. He is far older than any other character, and has become staid, quiet, and almost affectionate now that he’s free of his cage. He does in some ways feel like the ageless, understanding mother of all vampires.

Even if he is more aware than anyone that all love turns to dust in the end. :’)

(Anyway, who ever said ya gotta be female to be a mother anyway? We do what we want here.)

Now, for the imagery…

As always, we start with the Rider-Smith-Waite tarot version of the card:

The original Empress sits on her throne surrounded by fields of grain to symbolize her dominion over abundance, life, and all growing things. The stars on her crown symbolize her dominion over the months of the year and time itself, and the pomegranates on her dress symbolize fertility.

Now… none of that quite suits The Sire’s brand of fertility and life.

I think, if you’ll allow me to be a romantic, I would make The Emperor and The Empress to be twinned cards. Both cards traditionally feature thrones, but I’m thinking about the way that The Sire and The Baron like to sit together in their living room with The Hellhound…

Instead of a field of grain with a river running through it, I would have The Sire seated in a field of desolation. Heaps of earth and rivulets of blood and cold, wizened trees. To the outside observer, this would be a scene of death, not life. But to The Sire, these are all features of the life he has given and the life he has created for himself. He has left heaps of ancestral soil all over the world, and his blood runs through the veins of every vampire. His new roommate just loves burning trees, and would be currently lighting one of them on fire.

No crown on his head, but above him, 12 stars shine in the night sky.

Rather than a traditional throne, I would have The Sire seated amongst all this in a comfortable chair, and rather than a scepter, he would be raising a chalice full of blood — his blood, in fact, which has been given to countless vampires to drink.

Like The Empress, he would be seated facing somewhat to the left — all the better to make a toast with The Emperor, The Baron, who in his card will be seated facing the right with his own chalice in his hand.

What can I say? I’m a sucker for love and violence. :’)

wwdits tarot masterpost

[spencersawkward]

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed! 

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best. 

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him. 

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't. 

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh. 

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals. 

"you should bring one of your other friends." 

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world. 

"I thought that was just me." he says. 

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?" 

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep. 

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up. 

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't. 

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other. 

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open. 

"yeah?" 

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift. 

"I could hear your breathing change." 

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds. 

"I wanted to say goodnight." 

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.  

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound. 

"now I can't because you made it weird." 

"how did I make it weird?" 

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?" 

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated. 

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.  

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours. 

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do. 

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship. 

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing. 

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs. 

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate. 

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge. 

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart. 

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it. 

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over. 

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again. 

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing. 

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest. 

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things. 

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath. 

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars. 

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most. 

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle. 

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out. 

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull. 

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate. 

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head. 

he definitely has a concussion. 

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway. 

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun." 

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold. 

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor. 

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious. 

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know. 

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank. 

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key. 

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could. 

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called. 

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else. 

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed. 

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.  

"hi." 

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here. 

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me." 

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second. 

"Y/N, I'm really fine." 

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed. 

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully. 

"sounds like a nightmare." 

"it is." he cracks up. 

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?" 

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too." 

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm. 

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter. 

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her." 

"oof." you wince. 

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did. 

"yeah." he avoids your gaze. 

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard. 

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares. 

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder. 

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking. 

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret. 

"you already said that." 

"shut up." 

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks. 

"whatever. you care about me, too." 

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you." 

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums. 

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas. 

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud. 

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you. 

"were you thinking about anything in particular?" 

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.  

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care. 

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you." 

"like?" now you're intrigued. 

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down. 

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?" 

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um." 

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be. 

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you." 

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal. 

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed. 

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you." 

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more. 

your heart swells. 

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder. 

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way. 

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look. 

"I'm in love with you, too." 

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod. 

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable. 

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it. 

"I'd say so, yeah." 

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9. 

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly. 

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead. 

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before. 

never like this. 

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his. 

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact. 

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans. 

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in. 

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection. 

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you." 

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer." 

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you. 

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other. 

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast. 

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material. 

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god." 

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too. 

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now. 

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow. 

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.  

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..." 

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth. 

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans. 

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down. 

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully. 

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like." 

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop." 

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines. 

"mhmm." 

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something." 

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers. 

"I'm a virgin." you say. 

Spencer frowns. "really?" 

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful." 

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry. 

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence. 

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?" 

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency. 

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts. 

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands. 

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face. 

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you. 

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back. 

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting. 

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly. 

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop." 

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort. 

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock. 

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it. 

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin. 

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect." 

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum." 

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too." 

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement. 

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan. 

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high. 

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions. 

you collapse fully, him still inside. 

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it. 

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out. 

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird. 

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy. 

"we should try multiple times." 

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?" 

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?" 

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate. 

"yeah." 

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg​ 

[chuckbass-love]

Hi! I know you only just posted it but would it be possible to request 33&36 from the prompts with Ransom please?❤️

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this one, i really hope when you read it that it was worth the wait. Also thank you for requesting in the first place, it means a lot that people ask me to write fics for them.

Prompt #33: "Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic"

Prompt #36: "You'd better watch your fucking mouth"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut! Unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, swearing, daddy kink, implied alcohol consumption and use of the word slut/degradation. 18+ everyone....

Word Count: 2,191

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @twerkforambrose go check them out 💕

Your Filthy Addiction

Five more minutes, you’re going to give that arrogant son of a bitch five more minutes before you toss the food you’d made earlier. You’ve spent all dam day slaving away in that kitchen of yours to make sure Ransom had a decent home cooked meal to come back to after a long day working with Harlan, and what does he do? He doesn’t even show up.

You might love him but if you didn’t get annoyed at least once a day with him then life wouldn’t be right. He’s always doing something to mess you around.

And today is testament to that, it’s testament to the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t help but let you down. Maybe now you’ve had enough of sitting idly by and letting him walk all over you.

So when he eventually stumbles into the house, his tipsy state as clear as day, your cage is well and truly rattled.

“Where the hell have you been?” you snap, standing in front of him with your hands placed firmly on your hips as you take in his flustered cheeks. He’s very drunk indeed, probably due to the bottomless Jameson supply at the bar across town.

You’ve tried your hardest for years ever since the night you first met Ransom to help him with his obvious drinking problem but to no avail. And now you see why your solutions to his problems never worked, it was because despite his constant complaining about said problems, he loves having just a tiny bit of conflict in his life. Mostly with his good for nothing family who only treat him like dirt. But he gives as good as he gets, always has and always will.

“I was just out with Harvey” the way his shoulders move up as he shrugs only seems to bother you all the more. His lack of care for his actions have always created issues for your relationship but this takes the cake.

To some, your pouty and bratty behaviour may seem pathetic and unnecessary, but to you it’s more than him missing dinner. It’s about the fact that he always seems to let you down, over and over.

“Oh so you prefer his company over mine then? Because i made us a lovely meal so that we could eat together after a week of not being able to and this is the thanks i get? For my so called boyfriend to be swanning off with the master of one night stands” your voice is low, your stare dark and angry, your stance even more so and he can definitely see how badly he’s fucked up.

However, if you know Ransom well enough, then you can certainly see his change in attitude coming a mile off.

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth” he barks, his finger pointed directly in your face as he stalks closer to you. You find yourself stepping back, intimidation controlling you.

“Or what? You gonna make me? Judging by the way you’ve been acting you don’t have a leg to stand on” you say matter of factly as you shake your head in disgust at his nerve. How dare he boss you around when he’s the one who’s been out of line all this time.

“Maybe i will” he pokes his chin out as he stands tall, hands by his sides. He looks awfully confident as he inches closer. His index finger slips underneath your chin as he forces you to look directly into his menacing eyes.

You feel your breath catch in this moment. The knowledge of him doing whatever he wants to do to you just because he can is causing your entire body to shiver with anticipation. Despite how he makes you feel sometimes, you’re a sucker for him and everything he does.

He says jump, you say how high.

“What?” you murmur, wanting him to use his words just like he always makes you do.

“I said, maybe i will make you. Bet you’d love that, slut” you wince at the horrid nickname. It’s moments like these when you always try your hardest to avoid thinking about how his degradation of you makes you feel, your mind is objecting but your body is giving him the green light.

How is that?

How does he always manage to do that?

Must be some kind of mind control as you absentmindedly follow him through to the kitchen, his hand barely holding onto your own.

Before you can even make sense of things, he pushes you over the kitchen counter forcefully.

His hands splay across your ass cheeks as he lifts your dress up, bunching it at your waist before yanking your ruined panties down your bare legs. Next thing you know his fingers are toying at your dripping wet hole.

“Would ya look at this...you can try all you like to act up sweetheart, but you and i both know why this cunt of yours is soaked”

There he goes again, spewing filth to get you to give up the jig. You know you have to remain strong and stable but it’s so hard to do that when he....wait! Is he inserting his fingers? Fuck, they are so thick inside of you and two already? He must be a mind reader to know how this makes you feel, he must know what gets you keening because now here you are pushing back on them like a needy little brat.

“Pushing back on my fingers already? How pathetic” he tuts, his tone mocking as he chuckles a little. Still, his fingers remain as they twist and turn inside of you, scissoring you open before he adds a third.

Fuck, this is delicious torture. The man you’re supposed to be mad at but you can’t bring yourself to be when he makes your body feel so good.

The undeniable and powerful pleasure that he provides is just too good to quit. You could never let him go even if you actively tried to which by the way, you’ve attempted it a hundred times at least.

But every time you try he just lures you back in with his sexual prowess, his high libido and those dashing good looks. His sweet talk isn’t too bad either.

When will you ever learn to strengthen yourself up and walk away? Because he’s never going to change but oh shit, the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out rapidly is enough to cause the coil in your stomach to tighten one last time.

You move to meet his fingers, hips gyrating in circular motions slowly as you reach your hand between your legs.

Of course he pushes you hand away, insisting on using his own. His thumb presses down on your pulsating clit and the breathy groans that are escaping him let you know that he can sense your impending orgasm.

“Come on, baby. Cum for daddy” he urges, rubbing firm circles on you clit as his fingers curl inside of you, pushing against that spongy spot deep within. The one that will have you seeing stars in, 3...2...1.

“FUCK RANSOM” you scream out, hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard that it turns your knuckles white, his fingers continue to drive into you over and over as he rides you through your intense high.

“That’s my girl, just like that. Let go, baby” you can hear the smirk in his voice, the smugness he feels knowing that yet again he’s prevented you from walking away.

He’s convinced you to stay just by pleasuring you with his filthy touch, his sinful thick digits.

You may be weak, but with a man this good, a man capable of making your pretty little pussy cum over and over, why would you want to be anything else?

As soon as you come down from the high, you stand up, straightening your posture as you turn around to face him. The proud look covering his face lets you know that it’s all a game to him.

You pull your dress back down so that it’s covering up your modesty before pulling your panties up.

“What’s wrong, sad eyes?” he pokes, his hands resting either side of the counter, caging you in.

“You know what. You can’t just keep using sex to keep me around, Ransom” you huff in defeat, bothered by your lack of strong will.

“Sure i can, and what’s more, you’re gonna enjoy it too” he raises his eyebrows as he spins you back around, keeping your back arched by yanking your head backwards.

Every inch of your skin turns to gooseflesh as he trails his finger down the curve of your back before reaching your tail bone and pushing your dress up. He undoes the belt around his slacks before popping open the button and slipping them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection from its tight confines.

He slips your arousal covered panties to the side before smothering his eager red tip in your mouth watering pussy juices. Once he catches on your entrance he slams inside of you, but before you can jerk forward he hooks his arm into both of yours as he holds them behind you firmly.

You can never leave him, even if you truly wanted to, you’re stuck in an ongoing loop of orgasms and rough sex.

A frantic whimper slips off your tongue as his pace now renders on animalistic, hard and fast, just the way you both like it.

Of course the real pleasure comes from the slow and hard thrusts, the ones where he gently pokes at your g spot as he lays on top of you. Your legs wrapped around him, his face in the crook of your neck. But now is not the time for gentle and slow, now is the time for rushed and needy.

He’s desperate to achieve that orgasm just as much as he is to provide one for you. To feel your legs shaking as your head lulls back to rest on his chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head, it’s something he can never and will never get enough of. The way your walls are clamping down on him right now should be illegal as he can feel his balls tighten with the impending release.

“Fuck. Keep tightening those walls baby, let yourself go. Just. One. Last. Time” his voice desperate as his breathing turns ragged, matching yours. Your chest starts to rise and fall before your head falls back to rest on his chest just like he loves. He can feel your entire body tremble in his hold as he loosens his grip and pushes you over the counter.

“Gonna fucking cum, deep inside of this pussy. Gonna fill you up with my cum, baby” he growls, his voice deeper than before. He’s so painfully close, as are you.

And as you flutter around him one last time, he spills his load inside of you, causing you to stand up onto your tip toes with your head pressed into the marble counter.

He paints your walls with thick white ropes before twitching as he slows down his thrusts, then he stills his hips.

All that can be heard in this kitchen is heavy panting before the sound of your pussy squelching as he pulls out distracts you. He pulls his slacks back up, making quick work of his zip, button and belt whilst you toss your panties into the hamper by the laundry room and pull your dress back down before heading up to your bedroom.

New panties are a must.

“Now do you get it?” he asks, leaning on the open doorway to your room and causing you to turn and face him once your fresh panties are on.

“Get what?”

“Your mine and you always will be, until i say otherwise” he states, shocking you.

“I’m not your property, Ransom”

“Oh but you are, those soaked panties in that hamper prove it. So get used to it, because you’re never leaving me, especially not now”

You’re well and truly fucked... held captive by his intoxicating smell, intimidating demeanour and his undeniable skills in the bedroom.

Guess you should have known from the day you first met Hugh Ransom Drysdale that you’d never make it out alive if you were to run.

But the real question is, do you even want to leave him? He’s everything you detest but still you stay and continue to crave more of him.

And the answer to that question would be no, no you wouldn't want to leave.

He may be a prick, an arrogant asshole and a cocky son of a bitch but he is an addiction...your filthy addiction, and you wouldn’t have it or him any other way.

-------------------------

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[cinnamonest]

Daily Life - Yandere Childe, Zhongli, Xiao

A continuation of the earlier post about Kaeya and Diluc

Content Warnings: n/s/f//w mentions/themes/stuff (but not like, explicit detail), fem reader, normal yandere stuff

==================

Childe's a busy guy. He wakes you up every morning, usually pretty sweetly. He'll nuzzle up against your face, mumbling a "good morning" into your ear. He's sweet, but, you gotta get up when he tells you to. And you have to be the one to make food, he likes watching you walk around.

If he's gone, he is again one to give darling a surprising amount of freedom. He has the highest quality of security available and all, so he allows some roaming. That and, in a sorta terrifying thought, he's one hundred percent confident that even if you got away, he could find you, so he's not even too worried about escaping. He's so confident that you'll never truly escape him, which frankly is pretty intimidating for darling to realize. He'll get you things you like and stuff to do, stimulate your mind and all that, probably as time goes on will leave you chore lists and things you're required to do for him or else.

When he gets back, he's very tired usually, will expect you to make him food and be sweet and greet him at the door when he comes back, preferably on your knees. If you're not, he'll get irritated, especially if you're trying to hide. If you're just asleep or something, he might excuse it and find it cute. But he does a lot for you, you know, the least you can do is this one little thing. If he's had a particularly bad day, he'll be extra irritated, so it's wise to follow this command, and be ready to have all of his irritation taken out on you the moment he gets back. You're his favorite little stress ball to stuff and squeeze.

For days off, as I've said before he's one of the few that will willingly take you outside, and unlike Kaeya from the last routine post he's not in a bad mood about it either. He likes to show you off, likes walking in public holding hands or with his arm around you so that people can see, it gives him a sort of pride, and honestly he likes mimicking a "normal" relationship. But just know you're on a tight leash. Not literally of course... yet. He lays it out very clearly exactly how you are to behave when going outside, not speaking to others and not going out of his sight. Any attempts to make a scene, try to get a stranger to help etc will be dealt with fairly harshly. And don't think about pulling some covert, sneaky shit like trying to look at a stranger with the "help me" facial expression or trying to silently mouth something, slip a written message to a waitress etc -- he'll be watching you closely enough to pick up on any of that, and honestly that will set him off more than blatantly trying to make a scene. You will be immediately headed home to get an attitude adjustment since you can't behave.

Later on, he'll want you to accompany him to his work sometimes, on those days that whatever he has to do involved more sitting down than fighting - paperwork, important meetings, etc. He likes your presence, of course, you make the time pass more quickly. But really this is, more than anything, because he's an arrogant show-off. He'll give you something to fiddle with but will just sit you on his lap throughout the whole time, gently stroking your thigh or resting his head on your shoulder, making you wear embarrassingly revealing things and making sure everyone sees, be it the entire group in a wide meeting hall or some subordinate come to have a one-on-one talk, or even his superiors, thanking them for them letting him bring his pet to work. It even allows him to get in some good de-stressing during the middle of the day when no one else is around. Expect lots of bring-your-fucktoy-to-work days like that.

Of course, not every day is spent out, though. He also has days he'd rather just stay at home. These days are usually after a long period of difficult work and late nights, so he's exhausted. Expect lots of naps, just cuddles and an arm wrapped around your waist (with a solid iron grip, of course). May or may not progress to slow cuddlefucking, who knows (yes it always does). He gets all whiny and demanding because he's soooo tired, so he'll make you get on top after a few rounds.

-------

Honestly we all envy my Zhongli's darling already, but God he's the best to wake up to. He just softly kisses the side of your face, running his hands down your sides. He can't let you sleep in too much, it's bad for your health! You can probably beg for a few minutes extra. And God, is it the best to wake up to. He's already got someone (probably one of the other adepti, a person, who knows) to make you food, and it's never skimping out either, it's always tons of food and your favorite things, too. Within limits, of course, can't have you eating nothing but things that are bad for you. He's also one that will get you tons of things to do throughout the day, virtually anything you ask for, he'll pay for (well... someone will, but you'll think he did, at least). He actually might also give you a list of very simple tasks to do, just to give you some motivation, since even if you have a lot to do, having no tasks and only play can get depressing without the sense of accomplishment. But he's much more lenient on your completion of all of them.

He's always reluctant to leave and gives you a lot of headpats and kisses before finally heading out for  the day, always taking time to contemplate whether or not he can just take the day off. During the day you'll stay in the confinements of your cage, be that an abode or a building somewhere, making sure you stand zero chance of ever getting out. If you force his hand (read: multiple escape attempts), he'll reluctantly have to limit your roaming abilities, but once you're confined to a smaller cage and have some privileges taken away, he's certain you'll be on your best behavior to get out again, and maybe be a little more grateful and understanding in the future. Once he gets back, it's generally a very nice time, he likes to lead a quiet life and will want to hear all about your day, what you did, see the progress on all those little projects you've been working on for art or music or whatever hobby you've taken up to pass the time. If he's had a bad day, he'll probably tell you about it, but you know, put it in terms simple enough for you to understand, since you wouldn't normally get such complicated matters.

On very very rare occasions, not nearly as often as Childe, he might take you to on his day with him, probably not during normal workdays, but for some kind of special day -- a large meeting, or the opposite, a day where he has nothing to do but slow paperwork alone in an office. The sunlight is good for you, and he'll bring stuff for you to do too. To be honest, it's not as obvious nor as obnoxiously vocal about it as Childe, but he also does enjoy having your presence in front of others, letting them see you. The things you'll have to wear aren't nearly as obscenely lewd as Childe's either, but they're not entirely wholesome either.

He really likes having off days. On those days, he'll probably want to take you somewhere, generally will do whatever you want to do. He's incredibly knowledgeable on everything in the area, and would probably also really like going out somewhere secluded in nature, rather than in the city, like a nice view from the nearby mountains or the like, and just spend a day there. It's nice, and far away from prying eyes that can't recognize your face off the missing person posters or witness the obscene things that may or may not take place up there.

 Spending time home is always nice too, though, just quietly going about the day and doing whatever you want, although inevitably taking breaks for much-needed... displays of physical affection. And he tries so hard to be gentle, but he also has a lot of stress pent up that may just come out and result in being a bit rougher than usual, but he's always apologetic afterward, making sure you're alright. He's also pretty strict about the time you go to bed. Making sure you get enough sleep and all that.

-------

Xiao's poor, poor darling. You always wake up to him shaking you awake. He's impatient. Once he feels you've had enough sleep, he'll get you up like that. Don't try to get more sleep-in time, he's not very gracious on that, will simply huff and yank you up. Otherwise, the mornings can be... Sweet. It's not like he's trying to be so cold all the time; if you're well behaved he can be pretty loving, even if he doesn't quite know how to be gentle. He just has... Low tolerance.

Xiao is very quiet for the most part, and the mornings have a sort of silent peacefulness provided it's one of your days that you don't choose to be difficult. He likes to watch you go about the morning. It's a little creepy to be honest? He just sits there nearby and watches you move around, make food, brush your hair or teeth or whatever. He'll eat whatever you make him, even if it's not one of his extremely limited liked items. He might complain, though.

During the times he IS gone, well, it's extremely boring for poor darling. Early on, or if you've done something to warrant it (read: literally the slightest word of disagreement, a tone of voice he doesn't like, even a facial expression he deems defiant) you'll be bound to the bed, hand and foot. Nothing to do whatsoever but stare at the ceiling. It's your own fault, if you were good maybe it wouldn't be like this, he says. When you are good, and have a nice long-time record of being extremely pleasant and sweet to him - and I mean a LONG time - he might - might - finally let you be unbound aside from a long anklet chain connecting you to the bed. Not like you have much else to do, though. Maybe he'll get you books if you ask nicely and grovel at his feet. But that's it. He doesn't like the thought of giving you too much entertainment. If being alone is mind-numbingly boring, well, you'll enjoy time with him that much more. Eventually you'll reach a point where you're begging him not to leave, he hopes, even if he would never admit to that. So what he'll do is balance it, give you just enough to keep your whining down, but keep making sure you're miserable when alone. He only allows you "activities" (read: a book) on certain days of the week, or every other day, every third day, something like that. And you can only get a new book once a month or so. And it's whatever he finds, not just what you want, so he'll start dropping you with encyclopedias and textbooks and other dull things. You can't complain, after all he IS giving you something to do. If you're gonna complain, well, how would you like to have the reading privilege revoked entirely? And that shuts you up. So, really, poor darling's days are very very bleak, dull, and empty, when alone.

He doesn't really have a "end of the day." His "job" is more or less a 24/7 thing, he goes when he's needed and when he's not needed he'll be with you. Usually it's a semi normal schedule but it can lead to odd intervals - you may have times he's gone for a full day or so, and then times where he's there for a whole day, etc. Spending time together is quiet, but he's surprisingly fond of physical affection. He spends a lot of time just... alone with his thoughts. Spacing out and thinking, looking up at the sky, except, well, now it's him, his thoughts, and you. You'll spend it with him too, iron grip locked around your waist so you can't pull away from his lap. He's also one to need to get out the... frustrations of life through physical activity at night.

Days he's there, again, it's pretty quiet, he's not much one for extensive conversation, of course. If you talk, he'll listen, but don't expect him to say much back. He likes the sound of your voice, one of the only people he doesn't prefer silence to, so long as you're not whining about wanting to leave. He doesn't really have a lot of sitting-down type of work to do, so if he's spending a whole day time with you, it means he's specifically worked it out so that he's able to do so for that purpose. He'll probably prompt you to speak, it's super awkward really. An awkward comment about this or that that he clearly wants you to start talking about, and he'll talk back just a little bit, with his own brand of harsh pessimism -- but that's just the only way he really knows how to communicate, he's not actually trying to shut you down when he responds to everything negatively. It's the most bizarre bonding time, but bonding nonetheless. He also likes to watch you do tasks -- to make food, even if it's just for yourself, to clean and walk around doing your little tasks. He may or may not eventually discover a fondness for forcing you to walk around naked, poor darling.

I've mentioned before that his drive is reactive - it gets heavier when he's with you. So really, your day will be filled with little fun intervals of very spontaneous fucking. Like, he has no sense of mood or timing. It's completely random, very forceful, will just loop his hands under your arms and scoop you up and carry you over to bed at any random moment, interrupting your speech even. Or, sometimes the bed is too far, and just bending you over is easier. And then, he'll just carry on like nothing happened.

He's not one to rant and rave about his day by default, and especially not early on. In the later stages, though, once he's comfortable with you, you might find him slipping out a frustration here or there, a passing comment about something upsetting that happened, and if you pry at it, he'll end up talking, much more than usual. He kind of doesn't even realize he's starting to ramble a bit, and if he catches himself he'll stop and mutter something about it being unimportant anyway.

Bonus little hc: He asks you how your day was. Every day that he's not with you. It's a routine - he started doing it because from his limited knowledge of human relationships, it's the "normal," so he tries to emulate what he feels like is normal in a relationship. It's kind of funny, well, not for poor darling, it feels mocking. Like, how do you think my day was, Xiao? All tied up and left only to stare at the ceiling? If you get all sarcastic with him like that, though, he might see it as grounds for punishment, so, be snarky at your own risk.

[autisticandroids]

yknow those episodes where a character's whole personality gets split into 3-5 different distinct separate bodies? what bodies would cas have? I feel like it'd just be a mess tbh, imagine 5 different castiels all of them loving dean to a certain extent but showing it VASTLY differently. one cas would literally want to murder the others lmao

okay so i don’t actually think this trope would be an effective tool for analyzing cas? he’s not conflicted enough in himself. he’s too impulsive, too singleminded, too uninhibited. like, in the end, cas always ends up doing whatever he wants. there aren’t multiple discrete voices vying for control, really, or rather, if there are, one is always significantly stronger than the others. like in the end cas will always end up eating raw meat off the floor, you know? he’ll do what he wants. if i was going to do personality splitting i’d do it to someone intensely internally conflicted, like dean.

however, because i’m in an essay writing mood today, i’ll answer a question slightly to the left of the one you asked. cas may not be internally conflicted, but he is intensely changeable. these two things are related, actually; the same impulsivity and singlemindedness that mean he doesn’t have a ton of internal conflict at any given time mean that different ideas sound good to him at different times, because he isn’t really thinking about, say, what future-him will think of them. and he’s not really trying to maintain an image or identity. he’s just doing what feels right at the time, which is very different at different times and in different situations.

anyway, that in mind, i think a lot about ways to bring together many alternate versions of cas which sort of correspond to different times in the show.

i have a fic in my head about a bunch of cas-es pulled from alternate timelines by some kind of spell. so this would be set during the widower arc because the basic impulse here is to show dean a very bad time. just absolutely put him through hell. also, all the alternate timelines are different because different stuff happened, not because cas made different choices, because if we’re torturing dean it has to be like 5x04, the changes in cas can’t be cas’ fault. they have to be dean’s or just like, the universe’s (which makes them dean’s).

so dean is trying to bring cas back, and he finds some kind of spell that can bring someone “from another world.” and he tries it because hey. can’t hurt to try. anyway i’ve thought a long time about different versions of cas i would put in this and here is what i have. in order of when the timeline split off.

- a cas who never raised dean from hell. think 14x13 “lebanon.” this one i’m not too sure about, like, this could be fun, but i don’t know if it’s different enough from the next one. like this castiel would have lived through the averted apocalypse and subsequent general fuckery that happened as an angelic footsoldier, which would actually be pretty interesting now that i think about it, especially since all that stuff would have gone down soooooooo differently without cas specifically for your average angel footsoldier. like cas has PERSONALLY caused more upheaval in heaven in twelve years of spn than there seems to have been in millennia. so he would be the point of view of a normal footsoldier from a totally other world.

- a cas who died mid season four, and is pulled out of the empty in 2017 by this spell. i’m not sure when this cas died. my thoughts are (1) killed in on the head of a pin by alistair, (2) killed during his torture in the rapture, or (3) simply never resurrected after lucifer rising. (3) makes the most sense, but that cas has already thrown away everything for dean. i prefer the idea of a cas who loves dean, is already on the brink of disobedience for him, but has not yet taken the plunge. both on the head of a pin and the rapture are great places for this, and they both have strengths and weaknesses. if he died in the rapture, he was killed by heaven, which is fundamentally more fun, but he was also really very much over the edge already. if he died in on the head of a pin, he wasn’t killed by heaven, but he is perfectly teetering on the brink of falling for dean. regardless of when he died, the purpose of this cas is to be horrified at all the various and myriad ways he has destroyed and corrupted himself for dean in the other timelines.

- possibly endverse cas, who would have died in 2014, but like s4 cas, would have been pulled from the afterlife by the spell. i’m not so sure on this one. we as a society love endverse cas but i dunno what purpose he would serve. maybe endverse cas didn’t die in 2014, and instead was imprisoned by lucifer, because, you know. he’s the only brother lucifer has left. so he is very excited to see dean alive and well, since his dean is dead, and, not being an angel, cas can’t bring him back. the purpose of this cas would be to horrify dean that cas loves him and needs him so much, and to disgust the other cas-es with his neediness.

- a cas who was in some way on better terms with dean during s6. maybe dean and cas ride off into the sunset together after swan song instead of dean going to live with lisa, maybe dean prayed to cas while he was with lisa because he missed him, who knows. either way, cas has dean’s help with the angel revolution in season six from the start, and never goes to crowley. the plan cas and dean come up with to beat raphael includes breaking into the cage and stealing the grace of michael and lucifer, freeing sam and adam in the process. incidentally, it also involves cas possessing dean, because if cas is gonna eat archangel grace to become more powerful, he’s going to need a stronger vessel. so cas and dean have a whole like. midam situation happening. they’re a double archangel together, and godstiel never happened so none of the other terrible apocalypses that stemmed from that happened, and everything is pretty cool where they’re from, and also they’re obviously uhhhhhh SOME kind of together. the purpose of this cas is to upset dean because this cas shows how much better everything could have been and how much better his and cas’ relationship could have been if dean had simply been more considerate of cas in s6, and also freak dean out with how uh. close. this dean and cas are.

- a godstiel who managed to swallow purgatory without swallowing the leviathans and remained god. he’s probably soooomewhat less scary and murdery than canonverse godstiel because no leviathans, so you know, not as many angel purges or massacres on earth. and he probably went and fixed sam’s wall within about three days because cas is prideful but he does NOT like it when dean is mad at him. so they did kiss and make up, and so this cas would have had dean to act as his morality chain. but he’s still very scary and godstiel. and also he refers to dean as “The Beloved” you know. his purpose is to freak everyone out, because he’s scary, but also, for the past cas-es, because he is a terrifying abomination that they could never imagine becoming, for the future cas-es, because he is a reminder of their worst selves, and for dean, because he is a reminder of how dangerous cas is, but also because he uh. obviously has some feelings about his dean. unclear if they are consummated or not.

- a cas who naomi never rescued from purgatory, and who stayed there. hasn't spoken to another being in half a decade, has not recovered from his emotionally destroyed state in purgatory in s8. believes at first that the spell is his dean rescuing him, and is crushed when he realizes he was wrong. like endverse cas, his purpose is to show dean how much cas needs him and depends on him emotionally, and how he (dean) is capable of destroying cas, as well as his guilt for leaving him in purgatory and how lucky he is that his cas got out. this is especially noteworthy since the guilt for leaving cas in purgatory is part of the reason dean is trying to get cas back.

- a cas who stayed human after season nine, and has built himself a small human life over the next four years. he has a job and an apartment and friends outside the winchesters and yes, he still goes hunting after work sometimes, and he's still in contact with dean, but he is also independent in a way no other version of cas has ever been. he exists to freak out dean because dean has never seen cas independent of him. he is also fairly bitter at dean since dean did kind of stop spending time with him when he was no longer useful, and our dean feels guilty for that.

- a cas who showed up twenty minutes later in 10x03, finding sam dead and dean gone, and had to chase down demon dean, and has now spent three years following demon dean around as his tragically adoring stalker, because he hasn't found a way to resurrect sam yet and he doesn't want to put dean through the demon cure until he can save sam because he doesn't want dean to experience that guilt, but he also adores dean and wants to keep an eye on him and keep him safe and also keep him from doing anything too heinous, so he just covertly follows him around the country and watches from a distance as he commits various murders and fucks his way through every local bar scene. and occasionally cas finds dean something to kill, when the mark gets hungry, and drops it in his path. his purpose is to freak dean out with the lengths cas would go for him, and the depths cas would sink to.

anyway. lebanon cas and season four cas are horrified and perhaps disgusted (lebanon cas more than s4 cas) by ALL of the later cas-es, and how far they’re fallen, all of it for dean. godstiel and archangel cas being abominations, endverse cas and s9 cas being fallen, even purgatory cas and demon dean’s cas for their total dependence on dean.

purgatory cas and endverse cas are just happy to see a dean, even if it’s not their dean. demon dean’s cas, too, in a way. he’s happy to see a dean who is still human, who he can still have as a friend.

human cas is pissed to see that he was right, that dean would have stuck by him if he’d still had his powers, that this version of dean is doing spells to try and bring his cas, who is still an angel, back, whereas he and his dean only see each other once every couple months.

everyone is terrified and disgusted by godstiel, as i said before.

they’re mostly kind of thrown by archangel cas. a lot of them are jealous. godstiel is furious because how dare anyone, even an alternate version of himself, take dean as a vessel (even if dean likes it). godstiel isn’t really there, though, he resisted the summoning and just sort of popped his head through to see what was going on, and he goes back to his own reality pretty fast without murdering anyone.

also to be clear dean has not at this point examined or acknowledged any feelings he may have about his cas besides “friendship,” nor has he wondered what feelings his cas may have for him. given how many of the cas-es were clearly in some kind of relationship with their dean (endverse cas, archangel cas) or just openly in love with their dean (godstiel, purgatory cas, demon dean’s cas), dean is forced to reevaluate the nature of his and cas’ relationship.

[leviaju]

forgiveness

pairing: belphegor x GN! reader, hints of everyone x reader

words: 8.1k+

genre: angst, fluff at the beginning and a bit at the end if u squint

warnings: mentions of mc and lilith’s death, foul language

preview: “I’m sorry,” He begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. “I know that will never cut it, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.” 

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

hey guys what up. so... i’ve done a lot of thinking about belphegor’s dynamic with MC, and, like many others, was really bothered by the sudden switch after... he killed them. u know. typical stuff. i wanted to fill in the gaps!!! if im being completely honest, this has sat in my wips for.... like half a year. it’s my first time writing for obey me, so i hope that everyone’s not too terribly ooc LOL

anyways yeah. i mention how belphegor killed mc a couple of times, so proceed with caution! hopefully, if i get any ideas, the next stuff i write will be a lot lighter. hope you enjoy! (also requests r open soooooooo)

The weight on your chest crushed your rib cage, threatening to snap your bones like they were nothing more than twigs. All you could see was the pitch black of eternal night, and whether your eyes were opened or closed you couldn’t tell. What commanded your attention was the searing pain in your lungs, growing exponentially every half-second, and the unrelenting grip that was slowly shattering your esophagus. No matter how hard you struggled, squirmed and fought against the weight holding your body down, there was no use. It was pointless. The pain spread from the raging fire in your lungs to the tips of your fingertips, and everywhere felt as if you had been set aflame. Slowly, a light illuminated the force keeping you down. 

You couldn’t make out much, save for the cackle that rang insufferably through your ears, and the intense eyes that were staring you down. 

They held no remorse. 

-

Bones ache as you rest against your bed, finally allowing the tension in your muscles to melt away. You’d never mistake this feeling for regret of a busy day, having spent so much time with the people you care about, but it certainly took its toll on you. 

It began with Satan, who’d asked you the night before to accompany him on an early morning walk. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence — he’d invite you to join his morning routine on every day off, and you’d never refuse — hence, at the wonderful time of 7:00am, you were venturing around the Devildom, hand in hand with the Avatar of Wrath. The two of you would walk, occasionally resting on a park bench for longer than either of you would like to admit, for about an hour and a half before you took an official break. The time was filled with pleasant chatter and comfortable silence. Every so often he’d squeeze your hand, and when you’d look over, the fondest of smiles crossed his face. It was a reminder of how glad he was that you joined him. 

At around 8:30, he took you into a café for breakfast, and two of you spent only about thirty minutes there chattering away happily. For the most part, he was vividly and excitedly discussing a book he’d just finished the night before…

Until you were interrupted.

“Hello, lovely!” Asmodeus wrapped his arms around you from behind, just before pressing a kiss on your cheek. Satan sighed, resting his head in his hand as he watched the interaction. 

“My selfish older brother’s been hogging you all morning, I couldn’t help but want to whisk you away!”

Despite the glare Satan was sending his way, Asmodeus took a seat next to you, happily engaging in conversation as he completely ignored his brother. He told you that the mall was opening in about an hour, and Asmo desperately wished to get his perfectly-manicured hands on a new makeup product being revealed that day. 

“But of course I can’t go alone! How positively dreary that would be.” His fingers twined with yours as he looked at you hopefully, and you ran your thumb across his hand. A sheepish smile crept its way onto your lips, and you looked over at Satan. He simply nodded, flicking his hand as a gesture for you two to leave, and Asmodeus didn’t hesitate. He was quick to stand and pull you with them, holding tight to you as he whisked you away. You called out to Satan, now alone at the table with a reluctant smile on his face as he waved goodbye. 

“Thanks for breakfast! Get home safe!”

You almost missed the chuckle that left his lips, the café door closing behind you. 

Asmodeus kept you until noon. He got a hold of the lipstick he wanted almost right away, but insisted on buying an outfit to match the colour. Regardless of what you’d initially thought, the outfit wasn’t for him.

“Oh, we’ll look positively stunning together!” He exclaimed after about two hours of forcing you in and out of changing rooms, putting his hands all over you to “adjust the clothing” as he deemed necessary. Near the end, you could feel soreness deep in your muscles creeping in from such an active morning, but Asmodeus’ cheery face and constant flirtations helped you forget about it almost completely. 

It wasn’t until you got home that you truly felt the effects of on-and-off walking since early in the morning. Be that as it may, your stomach was growling, loudly reminding you that it was now past lunch. As much as you wished to give up on food for the time being and instead head to your room to collapse, the pain in your belly was enough to urge you to cease any arguments, instead ready to try and ignore the ache in your bones in order to quell the angry rumbling of your stomach. 

Unfortunately, when you finally made it to the kitchen, there was no food prepared. Instead, what you found was a dejected Beelzebub, frowning softly as he once again was at the receiving end of a lecture from the eldest of his brothers. As quiet as possible, you snuck into the kitchen, trying to listen in on their conversation. 

There was silence, followed by a sigh. 

“It’s easier to simply ask what’s going on as opposed to trying to eavesdrop, MC.”

You jumped, then bashfully made your way into the kitchen, a sheepish grin on your face. Lucifer was rubbing his temple. 

“Beelzebub was supposed to be on lunch duty, but ended up ‘taste-testing’ to the extent that he ate it all. Again.” Lucifer sighed. The typically perfect eldest brother was being run ragged, if the bags forming under his eyes told you anything. “So, instead of working on the papers I have to get finished for tonight, I’m stuck making lunch while he cleans up.”

Beelzebub’s frown tugged at your heartstrings, and in spite of the exhaustion clawing relentlessly at your bones, you relented. 

“Why don’t I help? Four hands are better than two,” you proposed, and a small smile graced Lucifer’s face. He lifted his hand to brush the disheveled black hair out of his face, and your chest ached just a bit at the sight. You made a mental note to drag him to bed for a nap the next time you saw him like this.

“That would be more than welcome. Please, if you may.” Already you turned to start working, but Lucifer’s voice made you pause. 

“But no feeding Beel. He’s eaten more than his fill already, he can wait until we’re all done.”

Needless to say, every so often you’d slip Beelzebub a piece of chopped vegetable or cooked meat, and he’d very happily (but quietly!) munch away, his expression radiating warmth and joy. And Lucifer, who seemed to almost be omniscient at times, never once mentioned it. Once the three of you were done cooking, Lucifer placed his hand on your head, patting you gently. 

“Good work, MC. I must leave now, but I trust that the two of you will be able to clean everything up. Your help was much appreciated. You will be paid back in kind for all of your hard work.”

If nothing else, the slight blush on Lucifer’s face as he ever-so-gently pressed his lips to the crown of your head was more than enough payment. 

“Thank you.” Beelzebub cleared his throat, washing the dishes as you dried them. “I… Thanks for helping. And feeding me.”

His smile warmed your heart, and you nodded, bumping your arm with his gently. The small bit of pink that dusted his cheeks compelled you to coddle him, but you resisted the urge. Barely.

“Anytime, big guy.”

After you ate lunch, the only thought in your mind was the prospect of curling up under your covers and passing out. The fretful, broken sleep the night before wasn’t helping at all in keeping you awake, and that on top of the rest of the day’s events had you yearning for the feeling of your pillows. 

Unfortunately, you hadn’t even made it through the door when your phone began to blow up, one notification after the other in quick succession.

GGKKJFLFJG

MC

CMOE QUIC K

PLS

SUPE R RARE EVENT IN MONONONOKE 

PELASE 

YOU HVE TO BE PARTNERED WIHT SOMEONE TO GTE THE PRIZE

MC

MC

PL E A S E

HURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHHHUUURRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY

You found yourself in Leviathan’s room, sat in his lap as he explained the event to you. Your half-asleep brain did its best to keep up with his quick speech, but that, along with the warmth of his chest against your back, became the most soothing lullaby. 

“Hey! Normie! I agreed to let you sit here so I could easily help you through the event, but if you’re going to fall asleep on me, I’m pushing you off—“

“I’m awake! I’m awake. 

...Now, what was I supposed to do?”

The unintentional giggle that escaped your lips at his expression caused Leviathan to huff, exasperated, despite the flush of his face. Diligently, however, he thoroughly explained the event, for the second time, and the method to obtain the rare prize: a level 2000 I’m Going To Murder You So Hard That You’ll Come Back To Life Just To Die Again Death Sycthe, the strongest weapon ever released in the game. It was a partner event, which explained Leviathan’s desperate and urgent request for aid. You didn’t mind though. While yes, you’d probably never be able to get to his level of gamer, you were more than happy to go along for the ride. It made him happy! 

Leviathan rested his chin against your shoulder as he played on his phone, focused to such a degree that the usually easy-to-fluster demon was completely unphased by your proximity. Your phone, set to AutoFight, rested untouched near Leviathan’s leg, abandoned on the floor. You watched him expertly take out enemies that would have one-hit KO’d you through heavy eyelids, and every time he beat a wave of enemies, his attention would momentarily avert from the screen, looking at you from the corner of his eye expectantly. A kiss on his cheek was more than enough to motivate him to continue on, albeit with a pink glow on his cheeks until his attention was once again completely wrapped up in the game at his fingertips. 

-

“Levi! I said open up, goddamnit!” 

The pounding against the door was enough to distract Leviathan from his game, subsequently killing his character in the process. He groaned, cursing the demon who interrupted the two of you as he gently lifted you off of his lap, before getting up to open the door. 

“The hell do you want?!”

To be completely honest, you were so wrapped up in watching Leviathan play his games that you had forgotten about your weekly movie night with Mammon, who had come over to his younger brother’s room to drag your ungrateful ass  back to your own. Leviathan had cleared the event in Mononoke Land hours ago, but not wanting you to leave just yet, invited you to keep watching him play. Setting aside how tired you were, how could you say no? You’d wanted to spend time with him, too. 

Unfortunately, you lost track of time, and your phone, battery completely drained from the event, rested uselessly in your pocket. A consequence of this happened to be missing the countless messages and calls Mammon had sent your way, before he began his hunt for you throughout the house. The last place he checked was, of course, Leviathan’s room.

“Come on, human, I ain’t got all day. No one keeps the Great Mammon waiting!” 

“Except for MC,” you heard Leviathan mumble under his breath, and a laugh escaped you before you had the chance to slap a hand over your mouth. Mammon flushed deeply, before striding into his brother’s room. 

“Hey, wait, you moron! I never said—!” 

The force of Mammon throwing you over your shoulder wasn’t enough to hurt, but it certainly was enough to leave you breathless for a moment. “Let’s go, fragile human. I picked the perfect movie already.” Mammon’s words came out in a bashful mumble, but he had enough courage to lift his head and smirk at Leviathan as he carried you out of the room. All you could do was smile apologetically at the blue haired demon before Mammon turned, bringing you out of sight. 

Mammon was all complaints as he carried you to your bedroom, but you knew it came from a place of love. Even though he’d never admit it, you could tell he was hurt by you unintentionally ignoring him. Because of this, instead of demanding he let you down, you allowed him to hold you like this, not a single complaint leaving your lips. 

When he brought you to your room, you were set on the bed you’d missed dearly and he went to put the movie in the player. 

“Hey! No sleepin’ on me, alright? I wanna watch the movie with ya, and I can’t if you’re passed out, now can I?” 

And so here you are now, bed frame creaking as Mammon climbs onto the mattress. Rubbing your eyes, you nod, and lean into him once he gets close enough for you to. 

“Seriously, I’m gonna hafta have a serious talk with Levi,” Mammon grumbles, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in so that you’re almost in his lap. He pulls the blankets over the two of you as you rest your head on his chest, and hum quietly in return. “He used up all your energy, and now we won’t be able to get to enjoy the movie as much! Honestly…”

The vibrations of Mammon’s words can be felt through his chest, and you simply cuddle into him more and try to train your bleary eyes on the television screen. The Avatar of Greed shuts up completely when you take his hand in yours and press a gentle kiss to it, before doing your best to focus on the movie. As time passes, however, the idea of giving into your whims grows more than tempting, and oh-so-easy for you to do. 

-

“Hey! Yo, MC! Seriously… You’re hopeless.”

A chiding, yet gentle voice draws you from the confines of rest. You puff air from your nose in response, cuddling closer to whatever it was that had been so comfortable in the first place.

“MC… Come on. Ya gotta wake up, ya didn’t even watch any of the movie! It was really good, y’know.”

Mammon’s hand rubs circles on your back as you mumble incoherently, a noise to acknowledge the fact that he‘s been talking, and that you are indeed awake now. 

It takes a good amount of time, as well as some gentle encouragement from Mammon, to get you to finally open your heavy eyes, and even longer for you to be able to apologize to him for missing out on the movie he was so excited to watch. He pouts a bit, but the blush on the highs of his cheeks lets you know that he didn’t mind all that much. You smile and yawn, and his chuckle resonates in your ears. 

“I gotta go now, otherwise Lucifer’s gonna kill me for staying so late. Sorry I woke ya up, but ya look so tired now that you’ll probably fall back asleep right away.”

And so, after a quick goodbye and a kiss on the cheek (which made Mammon turn the prettiest shade of red), you close your door and… sigh. If you had been able to stay asleep, the fact that you aren’t in pajamas and haven't brushed your teeth wouldn't be that much of an issue. Now that you‘re slightly more conscious, however, it’s hard to convince yourself to simply climb back into bed. Your breath is bugging you a bit, and the jeans you’re wearing certainly aren’t at all as comfortable as your pajama pants.  For that reason, to your own dismay, you begin getting ready for bed — properly this time. 

A small “finally…” tumbles from your lips after you finish your nighttime routine. Lacking any form of grace, you plop into bed once more and pull the blankets to your chin, nuzzling into the pillow. Your bed still smells like Mammon’s cologne, and you hum softly to yourself before closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take over once more, and hold you hostage until late in the morning. 

Alas, sleep seemed to be evading you now, similar to how you had ignored it during the day. The mattress you lay on simply isn't comfortable anymore, and the blankets that hug your body cause you to overheat. Unfortunately, if even one limb is out of the blanket, you get so cold you start shivering. None of your typical sleeping positions are anywhere near as effective as they typically are, and you’re left to wrestle with sleep alone, hoping to beat it into submission so you can finally get some proper rest. 

After about 45 minutes of tossing and turning with no results, you finally relent. The nap you’d taken while watching the movie royally fucked you over, and you groan. Eventually you decide to give up on trying to fall back asleep, and huff as you sit properly on your bed. 

Blanket dragging behind you as it drapes from your shoulders, you slowly make your way through the silent hallways of the House of Lamentation. The only sounds floating through the walls were the light buzz of electricity running through the wiring of the house, and your own footsteps as you began walking up one of the many staircases in the large building. 

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been walking, the passage of time different at night to a hazy mind, but eventually you arrive at your favourite area in the house, second only to your lush bedroom. There are no artificial lights, only the gentle cast of the night sky providing the ideas of shape in the planetarium. You’ve never seen stars so vibrant and bright, and there are so many more in the Devildom than anywhere you could go back home. Even though the only light comes from the stars, it’s enough to create soft, fuzzy edges around everything in the room; this includes the bundle of various blankets mussed in the centre of the floor. Slowly, cautiously, you make your way towards the pile. 

Since you’d arrived in the Devildom, the planetarium at the top of the House of Lamentation became your safe haven. Your room, without a lock on the door, was way too easy for intruding demons to enter without permission, and on nights when everything became too much for you to handle, you’d head up to the planetarium to clear your mind. There’s just something so calming about a starry sky on a clear night that releases you of your fears and anxiety, and helps you get a grip on the situation around you. 

After freeing a certain someone from their attic-based captivity, however, you learned that the planetarium was a place favored not only by you. Since he’d been freed, you’d been kind, but there were still fears plaguing your mind, reminding you of everything that has transpired between the two of you. It’s something that you can’t escape, following you even - especially - in your sleep, when you wished you’d be the most at peace. It makes sense, considering the sin he embodies, but you wish it wasn’t like that nonetheless. 

Once you’d learned that this was one of his favourite rooms in the house, especially on nights when he can’t fall asleep, you found yourself avoiding this area. It’s not that you hate him; it’s the opposite, really. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel the tightening of his fingers around your neck, and the burning sensation in your lungs that’s screaming for oxygen, and the desperation to alleviate the seer of deprivation. 

Still, you trek on. Closer and closer to the pile of blankets, your gut cries to you to run away. You ignore it. The nearer you get to the nest of blankets, the faster your heart beats, the more lightheaded you feel. But you continue. 

Eventually you get close enough to make out the shape of a familiar pillow, the cow print on the case worn and well-loved. From the moment you walked in the room, you knew he was here. All the same, you walk on, and the only sounds in the room are the gentle taps of your clothed feet against the tile, and the quiet noises of your quickened breaths.

You’ve avoided being alone with him since… Since you… Since the event. Your heart screamed at you to forgive him, to love him just as much as you love his brothers. That said, there’s nothing in you that can stop your stomach from churning whenever he gets too close. 

Butterflies beat aggressively within your heart and stomach, and it’s years before you get within his range of sight, but you sit down on the floor, holding the blanket tight to your body. 

There’s one beat, 

two beats,

three beats of silence before you can hear him sucking in a breath through his teeth. In your peripheral you can see his lips parting, closing, parting again as he tries to find the words. He heard you walk in, and was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t immediately bolt in the opposite direction. However, this proximity leaves him with an entirely new predicament. He wants to talk to you, he wants to laugh and joke with you the way his brothers do, but one look at your face and he notices the dark bags under your eyes, and the frown that tugs at your lips as you stare up at the stars. He can hear your heart racing, and feel his own in the tips of his fingers. He opens his mouth again, but the crack in his voice betrays his usual collected personality. 

“I’ll go,” Belphegor begins, begrudgingly starting to gather his blankets. His body freezes when his eyes pass over your figure and you’re looking right at him, through him, and he swears he can feel the blood in his veins stop pumping. Your expression is unreadable, almost scary, and he’s never in his life been in fear of a human until this moment. 

The seconds pass as years do, both of your bodies chilled to the bone but neither of you able to look away. In the end, the one who casts their gaze somewhere else is you, and he exhales loudly. 

“Don’t.”

Your reply is simple, but he’s stuck in place. Slowly, he nods, sitting down again the way he had been prior, and pulling his beloved pillow close to his chest. He can’t breathe, the tension suffocating. It doesn’t help that now you refuse to look at him. 

“... If you want,” he replies dumbly, staring at the floor. He feels trapped in place, afraid to move and scare you off. Despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to leave you be, he stays. You told him to, after all. Slowly, you sit down, his blankets creating a low wall between the two of you.

It’s only now that he gets a good look at you. You're tired, he knows, watching as your eyelids droop and your lazy movements when you get more comfortable under your blanket, but there’s more to it than just that. You seem so fragile, like sugar glass, breaking with even the slightest amount of pressure. He feels he can reach over and shatter you with the gentlest of touches, and that thought alone roots him in place. Since you came back, he’s never seen you without a smile. Your genuine smile was the prettiest, he decided rather early on, one that lights up your face and brightens those around you. Belphegor really, truly loves your smile.

He knows there was a point in time, not long ago, where he could have made it so no one saw it ever again. He can’t help but be grateful he didn’t succeed when he sees you smiling at his brothers. 

That’s never the smile you show him though. It’s not for lack of effort; you certainly try, and he loves you for that. But the smile you show him is always plastered on, and he knows you’re doing it for his sake. With Belphegor, your smile never reaches your eyes. Be that as it may, you’re never weak around him. Fake smiles prove exactly how strong you really are, but your heart races every time he enters the room. As much as he wishes your palpitations are out of excitement, he knows better than to give himself false hope. 

That’s why he’s so taken aback when he looks you over and you seem so vulnerable. Never, not in a million years, would he ever let himself believe that you’d allow yourself to look weak in front of him, not after what he did. Even so, here you are, shaking, knees drawn into your chest, and his heart soars because you’re showing him a new side to yourself. It aches at the knowledge that you’re feeling so vulnerable because of him. 

His eyes burn holes in the side of your head. You know he’s watching you, studying you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not when the hands he uses to pull the blankets over his body are the exact same ones that led you to your untimely and violent demise, and not when every time you look at his face, you can also see Mammon’s above you, sobbing as he tries to will you not to fade away into nothingness. 

There’s no putting it nicely. You were murdered, and Belphegor was the one who killed you. As much as he tries to pretend it never happened, to act around you the same as his older brothers do, you would never forget. Neither would he, regardless of the effort he puts into pushing the memory out of his mind. His chosen way of coping was to laugh with you, to get close and have you forgive him without acknowledging the situation. It was too painful to talk about, after all. He willingly, happily snuffed out the life of someone his brothers love, and someone he’d find himself loving too. You became someone who changed him, helped him grow and be better. It was easier, simpler to act as if you’d met him the same way you’d met any of his brothers. 

Belphegor killed one of the last remaining parts of his past, a part that, while once warm and light, mutated and infected him, causing his anger to grow out of control, like a weed that suffocates any flower that tries to flourish. He killed a descendant of his sister, and the fact that you’re here now is more of a second chance than he thinks he could ever deserve in all his millenia of living. 

And yet, here you are. Scared and shaking, but here. The silence has stretched on for longer than he’d like; he wants to be able to love you, openly and happily, but knows it won’t happen. It can’t, unless he does what he thought was the very last thing he’d do. 

“I’m sorry,” Belphegor begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. He can hear your heartbeat pick up, and he curses himself mentally. Your lip between your teeth, you remain silent. His nerves force him to speak more. 

“I know that will never cut, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

There’s more silence. He feels like he can’t breathe, the tense atmosphere forcing its way around his throat and tightening its grip. He doesn’t know how long it takes you to even contemplate replying, let alone allow yourself to respond. Belphegor’s ears ring almost deafeningly loud. He can’t take it.

“You’re right.” 

His eyes, which he trained to the ground, dart up to your profile once more. You pause, wetting your lips. 

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

There’s not enough time to process your words before he really, really looks at you. Almost fearlessly, you meet his eyes. 

Almost fearlessly. 

The shaking of your hands betrays the strength of your voice. Belphegor’s chest aches. 

“But…”

There’s a pause as you speak. He can’t look away again, even as your eyes meet the stars once more. There’s no chance he’ll miss a word you say, even if it tears him apart.

“It’s… it’s really difficult. I know you know that, but…”

Each time you pause, Belphegor’s mind begins storming. He can’t figure out what you’re going to say, or how you’re going to react, and it drives him crazy. He’s usually so good at reading people, but you’re an enigma. It sends a chill down his spine. 

His throat is caught. Even if he had words to say, they wouldn’t be able to come out. So he sits in silence as you find your own. 

“I don’t want you to feel worse than you do.” You lick your lips. “Or maybe I do? I… I really don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you, Belphie.”

The nickname tugs at his heart, more than he could ever admit. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to do anything other than look at your melancholy face, knowing he’s the problem. He wants to run and hide, to sleep forever. He can’t, though. Not when you’re here. Not now. 

Knuckles turn white as he clutches desperately onto his pillow. His breath shakes as he draws in air. 

“I want to love you. I want to love you as much as I love your brothers, and care about you as much as I care for them…”

You struggle to find the words. 

“... But it’s hard.”

You curse your lack of eloquence. Now, of all times, when your words are the only thing that enable you to communicate how you truly feel, they fail you. This might be your only chance to ever properly show Belphegor how you feel, what makes you so conflicted every time he walks into the room with a smile on his face, and yet all you can say is “it’s hard”. Obviously. 

A breath finds its way into your lungs, and the sound of your lips parting in the otherwise silent planetarium echoes in your ears.

You continue.

“It’s hard because every time I see your face, or I hear your voice, or I-”, you falter, heart catching in your throat, “or you touch me, I can’t help but be reminded of what happened.”

Belphegor doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from your form. The grief that settles into his face perfectly matches your own, eyebrows upturned and bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit. Even the trembling of your hands is replicated in his own. He’s never seen you like this, so incredibly vulnerable, and it tears him apart inside to know that he is the cause of it.

A shuddery breath comes from Belphegor, and you fight your instincts to check if he’s okay. You know he isn’t.

The silence deafens you, thundering in your ears so harshly that you're tempted to place your hands at the side of your head to muffle how quiet it is. You don’t, however, and whether it’s because you don’t want to look crazy, or because you’re afraid you might shatter if you move, you’ll never know. Do you want him to talk? Do you want him to say anything? Do you want an apology?

If you had an answer for that, you’re sure that things would have patched themselves up much quicker than this. You caution a glance at Belphegor, and the weight pressing down on your chest gets heavier at his expression. It feels almost as if you can inhale the guilt he feels, the emotion radiating off of him in waves.

“I… Logically, Belphie, I get it.” Again with that cursed nickname. Usually, hearing it from your lips makes Belphegor feel warm and goddamn near giddy, but now it only seemed to drive the knife in his gut further. 

“I understand what happened and why you did it. I may not agree… but I get it, you know?” You swallow.

“In the end, I’m still here. And… and I’ve come to learn that you’re nothing like that anymore. You’ve grown, and changed, and the guilt and anger that consumed you took control, and that's why you-- that’s--” 

You pause, clutching the blanket around you to try and ground yourself. The shakiness in your voice is not missed by Belphegor, and even if it had been, there’s no way he’d be able to ignore the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Slowly, subconsciously, one of your hands comes up to rest against your neck, a phantom of the grasp that once threatened to crush you.

“S-So… I understand why you did it. And I’m alive, and we’re friends, so it should all be okay, right?” Belphegor casts his glance away.

“But Belphie… as much as I want to forgive you, I also know that I’m never going to be able to forget what happened. It’s there in my dreams, and it’s there in your smile, and it’s there every single time your arm brushes mine and I flinch like a total loser.”

A weak chuckle makes its way out of your chest, and the halfhearted smile that follows forces a tear from your eye. You’re quick to wipe it away, hopefully quick enough so that it goes unnoticed by Belphegor.

It does.

What he does notice, however, is the frustration that holds tight to the edges of your sentences. The frustration is not directed at him, no. You would be yelling if that were the case, and maybe that would be easier for him to hear. No, this frustration is directed at yourself. You’ve been trying so hard, and all Belphegor has been doing is running away. His teeth dig so hard into his bottom lip, trying desperately not to show any anger he feels at himself, that he tastes iron.

“And then we became all buddy-buddy, you know? Like I was never lied to, or used, or manipulated, or-- or--”

Belphegor is torn from his self-pity when you continue, and he almost wishes you’d stop speaking. The thought that you might break him with your words has him shaking, and a feeling similar to fear courses heavily through his veins. Please, stop. He wants to go back to running away.

But you continue, as you always have.

“And I’m left not knowing how to feel. I’m so mad at myself for being such a coward and not being able to just get over it like everyone else, and I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t just exist around you like I do for everyone else. I mean, I used to be terrified of Lucifer, too.” Another fragile laugh, and you sweep the hair from your eyes with a shaky hand. Belphegor swallows hard.

“But I… I can’t pretend like nothing happened. As much as I want to be near you, and hug you, and take naps and play pranks on Luci with you… I can’t. I can’t act as if what I feel isn’t real, and what you did didn’t happen. It’s so hard, Belphegor.” You sigh, and finally look at him once more. He can’t meet your gaze, slumped over himself and hugging his pillow so tight to his chest it seems as if he wishes to disappear into it. “Especially because I really, truly want to understand why everyone loves you so much. And I want to love you, too. I want to know why Beel smiles every time you’re brought up in conversation, and I want to smile just the same. But… But right now, I can’t.”

Talking has gotten easier. The words that used to escape you have become accustomed to being used again, and confidence has restored in your gut. You sit a bit straighter as you watch Belphegor carefully, a sad smile lifting your cheeks. 

Belphegor knows that this is when he should swoop in, say something so intellectual that you’re caught off guard, and he can save you from… himself. This knowledge does nothing to save him from himself. He can’t even open his mouth to mime a sentence, let alone actually speak. The thought of how pathetic he must look settles under Belphegor’s skin, and he can feel his irritation rising. Not at you though, never at you. Not even when… When it all happened. His anger was misplaced, but he has never been angry at you.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too much, he forces himself to meet your gaze. The way you look at him, just as vulnerable and bare and scared as he is… he feels safe. He knows, even though your words sear his heart, that you never mean to hurt him, especially now. You’re being honest, and simply expect the same from him.

Belphegor inhales a deep breath, before willing himself to speak.

“I thought--” he croaks, and quickly clears his throat. Fuck. “I thought that if… if I could pretend that nothing happened, then I wouldn’t have to face any consequences.”

He curses audibly. Just how pathetic can he sound? Belphegor’s voice is hoarse and quivering, and weak. “Weak” is never a word that he would have used to describe himself, but now it echoes hauntingly against the confines of his skull. One of the most powerful demons in existence, and he finds himself quaking before a mere human. He cares for you, though, and he cares for you viciously. Something in Belphegor knows that he’s never going to be able to prove that to you unless he pushes his way through this.

So he forces himself to continue, even with every cell in his body desperately screaming at him to stop.

“I did what I did out of a place of guilt… and regret. I couldn’t stand the fact that it was because of me, that it was my fault, that I’m the reason that Lilith--”

Belphegor stumbles over his own words, and he sets down his pillow before he accidentally tears a hole through it. Instead he braces himself on the cool floor, in need of something steady to hold onto. This whole conversation shook him to the core. He can hardly believe he’s talking about his sister. She’s a topic that he’s avoided even around Beelzebub…

But if Belphegor ever wants even the possibility that you’ll forgive him, he knows he has to. Everything is on the line. His blunt nails press against the tiles and he focuses on steadying his voice.

“I couldn’t accept that it was my fault.” A newfound steadiness weaves its way around his words, and he finds himself sitting a bit straighter. “I’m the one who introduced her to the human world, and kept bringing her back. I’m the reason she suffered, and why the war started, and why we fell, and why she…” Belphegor coughs. “In the end, I couldn’t accept that I’m the one who killed her.

Your heart yearns to tell him that no, he’s wrong, it’s not all his fault. You know it won’t help right now, though, and that it isn’t your time to speak. Settling back a bit, you let your blanket fall from your shoulders. 

Belphegor’s heart stutters, and pounds so hard that he feels like it's trying to tear through his chest. Even so, he doesn’t miss the way your hand reaches out to smooth over his own, and for a moment he feels himself wanting to melt just from the simple touch. 

Belphegor pulls away. He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not yet.

“So… So when you said that you’re a descendant of Lilith, I-- I couldn’t help myself. I jumped at the chance to get to know you, learn about what makes you similar and what makes you different. Her blood flows through your veins, and I was quick to ignore what I did in favour of getting to know you, and… and inevitably, becoming just as fond of you as my brothers… but that can’t erase what I did.”

The feeling of understanding floods you and you find yourself nodding at his words. To be completely honest, even now, you’re scared. Your heart beats for many reasons, fear one of them, but you don’t run away. Not anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to even if you wanted to.

Your hand, abandoned next to Belphegor’s, lay dormant. The need to comfort wills you to once again place your hand on his, but you don’t move. When he’s ready, if he ever is, you’ll be there.

Just as he’ll be there for you.

“I killed you, MC. And in doing that, I killed Lilith. Again.”

Countless emotions storm their way through Belphegor’s conscience, despair clawing at his throat, regret snapping his back, and guilt slowly crushing him under its weight. How is it that one can feel so empty, and yet so filled to the brim with misery?

“And not only that, but if I succeeded… I would have completely missed out on getting to know you, and caring about you as much as I do now. It would have been a loss that I never would have understood, but know for a fact that I would have felt. Even… Even when I was proud,” he spits out the word as if it’s poison, “of what I’d done, watching my brothers’ hearts break at the sight of your body… Even then, I felt it. The ache. It’s so fucking stupid.”

His tone, now bubbling with anger, stills you. It’s not directed at you, and you know this, but despite yourself, you freeze. Belphegor notices, and quickly clears his throat, relaxing his shoulders. He allows your heart a moment to slow as he regains his composure, and you find yourself breathing again.

“I know that me saying sorry is never going to cut it.” Belphegor turns his body to fully face you. He’s no longer running from his feelings, or from you. He knows he can’t anymore. Hesitantly, he lifts his trembling hand to place over yours. The muscles in your fingers tense, and he pauses to gauge your reaction. When you slowly nod your head once, he delicately places his hand on yours, using his thumb to gently begin massaging the tension away. “And I know that even if I do everything right from here on out, that there’s a chance that you won’t ever forgive me. And I understand why.”

Your heart sinks at his expression, his gaze locked on your joined hands. As aloof as he normally is, you can see none of that on his face now. When you turn over your hand he quickly pulls away, but your shaky movements to bring his hand back and intertwine your fingers urges him to go on. 

“But I want to try. And really try this time. I want you to be honest with how you feel, whether I’m frustrating you or scaring you or anything like that, and… and I want to be honest with you too. I…”

Belphegor trails off, but you squeeze his hand. He draws in a slow breath. 

“No matter what happens, no matter how you feel, we’re stuck together for the next few months. I want to spend that time getting to know you, and I want us to be as close as you are with any of my brothers… but I also want you to know that you shouldn’t feel forced. If it’s ever too much, I need you to tell me, and I promise I’ll back off.”

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto your face as you quietly agree. Belphegor doesn’t allow himself to try and figure out if it's genuine, out of pity, or sadness, but in spite of everything, it makes him feel a bit lighter. Just a bit.

“This won’t fix everything right away,” you say, and he now knows that your smile is a combination of the three. Along with this, though, Belphegor also knows the small sparkle in your eyes is hope, and he’s willing to take that hope and nurture it for however long he must.

“I know,” he sighs, but even he can feel the small tilt of a smile on his face, “but I’m willing to take as much time as you need to decide how you feel about me. And… And if you decide you hate me, which is fair, and that you never want to even be in the same room as me, I’ll respect your wishes.

Until then...Until you decide that you really, truly hate me, I won’t stop trying.”

There’s no way of telling how long his words linger in the air around the two of you, circling around your heads and making their way through your body. Even so, Belphegor diligently watches you, wanting to make sure he’s not overstepping his bounds. He even contemplates letting go of you, but is reassured when slowly, almost unnoticeably, you begin smoothing out the lines on the back of his hand with your thumb.

As much as you want to tell him that you could never hate him, you also know you can’t promise anything. Still, for now, just as much as him, you’re willing to try. You stay in silence, more comfortable than you’ve ever been in his presence, gently caressing the hand held in your own.

Eventually, Belphegor clears his throat once more. The vulnerability has made him tense and rendered his voice weak. 

“Can… can you hug me?” He all but whispers, fragility making his body quiver once more. He was completely open about his feelings for the first time in a lifetime, and the intensity of it left him craving affection. He knows how unfair this is to you, but he can’t help himself. He wishes to be held, for his fears to be quelled by someone so much stronger than him. “If you don’t want to,” he falters, speaking quickly, insecurely, “I won't even touch you. I-If you do, I promise I can keep my hands behind my back, and I won’t even--”

His words end abruptly as he feels you release his hand, and his heart sinks. He debates running away again, until he hears you moving towards him, and he finds he’s frozen in place. Slowly, but surely, with more courage circulating through your veins than you’ve had all night, you make your way over the blankets that divide you and position yourself right next to Belphegor, pulling him into your chest. Even now, he can feel how quickly, persistently your heart races, and yet you stay. True to his word, Belphegor rests his hands on the ground behind his back, but he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into your chest… and he cries. The complete, uninhibited release of his emotions hit him like a truck, and he sobs heavily into you, tears slowly but surely staining your shirt. You adjust yourself so you can hold him closer, slowly and reassuringly rubbing his back as he lets go of everything he’s been holding on to for longer than you can even imagine. This is a man who’s run from his emotions for centuries, and the fact that he’s willing to face them for your sake comforts you, cradles your heart and presses gentle kisses against the cracks. You know that you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with everything okay, but for now… for now you’re comfortable with his touch. Heaving in a deep, steadying breath, you reach down just enough to take Belphegor’s arms, and guide them to rest his hands on your hips. At this silent permission, he slowly, delicately wraps his arms around your waist, despite craving your body closer, wanting to hold you tight and never let go. He cradles you like you’re made of the most brittle glass, and you smile. The gesture touches your heart, and… and you feel safe. You know that all he wants to do is embrace you as tight as he can, but he doesn’t, even with permission. 

Here, in Belphegor’s arms, you feel safe. Here, where Belphegor’s grip on you is so gentle that it wouldn’t even crumple paper, you feel loved. As he cries into your chest, holding you as if you were an antique, hope slowly fills your heart.

Everything is far from perfect, but it’s still on the right track, here in the quiet planetarium.

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 1 of 2

SPOILER ALERT.

It's probably just the alcohol, but the beats of the music are starting to sound a little bit like a marching drum that's announcing war. She can feel herself dancing along to it, but her whole body is on alert, ready to switch to fight and flight any second.

"So, cool place huh?" The bloke in the leather jacket asks.

She tries to remember his name. Jeff something. Or maybe Jed. No, not Jed, she's thinking of Star Wars again. That's what happens when you binge watch a multiverse of movies in a single day.

Oh, yeah, that's right. She broke the multiverse.

Another shot of tequila, and she takes not-Jed's hand in hers. It doesn't feel right, at least not the way-

No.

She realises he asked her a question, but she can't remember what, and she just laughs, because that always works.

Encouraged, he leans in close and whispers into her ears. "How about we get out of here?"

"And go where, exactly?" She asks, but she's not sure he understands, not with how slurred the words come out.

She laughs again, and this time, it's bitter. This time, she's laughing at how this is so him, this getting drunk in the face of imminent danger and making a mess of things.

(But I'm not you.)

---

She's frozen in her place the second the glowing yellow door appears. But it's not for her, at least not this time.

She hasn't been on the run for a while. Doesn't need to be. Because even though she is the one who unleashed the chaos, it's the chaos that needs to be contained immediately. She's low on the list of priorities.

The TVA will come for her. But not right now.

---

It's extremely easy pretending to be a psychic. All she has to do is take her client's hands and enchant him, find a memory, describe it back to him.

Sometimes she does it just for fun, just to see the look of amazement on their faces.

Other times, she does it for the money she needs to survive.

"And I see a blonde woman. Very beautiful."

"That's my wife."

The way he smiles, loving and proud, makes her heart drop.

"What do you see in her future? Is she happy? Does she get the job at the magazine?"

There is definitely at least one timeline where she does get the job, but The Enchantress cannot exactly tell if it's this one. She can't actually see the future, after all.

She sees the colors drain from his face as her silence swallows the room. "She's going to be okay, right? I just want her to be okay."

(I just want you to be okay.)

There's that bitter laugh again, because-

No. She can't do this right now.

"She loves you very much", she whispers, to the man in front of her, and to the man who is not there to hear those words.

---

Mobius finds her in the middle of a concert by a Nirvana where Kurt Cobain never died. She can easily slip away, disappear into the screaming, writhing crowd if she wants.

Or she can just take him some place quiet and hear him out.

"Help us", Mobius pleads. He sounds exhausted, and not just physically. "We're outnumbered and outwitted. Our world is in danger."

"This isn't my world", she reminds him.

"Yet, you're here", he retorts.

Her smile is pained. "Where else will I go?"

He is sympathetic, like he always has been. And he offers her a new glorious purpose. "Come with me. We need you. He needs you."

She feels the air find its way out of her lungs the same way she pushed him out of her life- painfully, forcefully. "H-how is he?"

"He's okay... all things considered."

Now there's a cocktail of relief and disappointment that will give her months of sleepless nights.

"Tell him I'm-" she starts, but she doesn't know how to finish that sentence. What can she tell him? That she's sorry for not trusting him when she should have? That she's sorry for making the universes collide?

That she's sorry for betraying him and breaking his heart?

(How will I know you won't betray me at the end?)

"Nevermind."

---

It's been really hard facing the consequences of her actions, watching the timelines bleed into each other and destroy people's lives- families torn, achievements gone, every little anomaly delving into death and destruction. Every headline on the newspaper is her fault, and she has to live with that.

But that seems so easy compared to this moment where she has to face him.

The plan was to send him away, kill He Who Remains, give people their free will back, save the world, then come back to him. Yeah, he'd be mad at her at first, sure, but he'd forgive her eventually, she was confident.

Then the timelines started to branch the minute she stuck the dagger in that terrifying man's chest, and she knew she had screwed up.

She had sunk to the ground in defeat as the realisation of the repercussions hit her, and she did what she has always done- run.

She didn't even realise she had sent him to the wrong universe until she teleported herself into another universe as well. The journey back was long and lonely, but she dreamt of him in colors while the world was bleeding red, and that was enough to keep her going.

She doesn't really know what she'll do when she sees him again. Neither does she know what reaction she expects from him. Nothing he can say to her can be worse than what she thinks of herself.

A part of her hopes he would be overwhelmingly happy, he would come running to her, just like he did at The Void, greet her with the smile that has won a hundred hearts- including hers, and tell her everything will be alright. Another part of her fears that he would be furious, and he would confront her with accusations of unleashing havoc on all worlds- especially his.

What she never expected is this eerie calm that makes her feel like she is standing in the storm center.

His walls are up.

And it causes her to redirect the anger she feels at herself towards him. There's venom in her voice. "So you do get to rule, after all."

"I don't feel much like a king." He shrugs. "I'm more of a multiversal janitor. Mopping up multiversal messes."

"My messes."

"Our messes." He corrects, his features softening around the edges. "We made a mistake." He has been saying that ever since he found himself in the alternate TVA, and that hasn't changed even after getting back to his own version of the bureau. Always "we", never "she". He simply cannot bring himself to blame her without taking accountability for his part in the mess.

"Don't patronize me." Her hands are shaking, just like her voice, a sharp contrast to his steady silhouette, and can he just hold her, please? "I don't need you to take the fall for me."

His eyes go cold, like they were forged in the heart of Jotunheim. "Of course not", he says, fully composed. "You don't need me for anything. It's not like we're in this together."

(Maybe we can figure it out-together.)

---

She now knows her walls don't- can't- keep the hurt out- it just keeps her locked inside this cage of distrust and insecurities. And the price she has to pay for it is too high.

They could have been lying on a beach somewhere, sipping mimosas right now. Instead, they're here, in the vast, silent library of the TVA, sitting on separate tables, reading files on variants.

The only thing worse than bearing the weight of his gaze is having him stare at his files without looking in her direction even once. She can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry." She suddenly blurts out.

He looks up, confused. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm sorry for what I did." She repeats. It's difficult to start an apology, but once she finds the strength to begin, the rest of it flows automatically. "I'm sorry I messed up everything. I'm sorry I broke the timelines. I'm sorry the world is in danger." She takes in a deep breath. "And I'm sorry I betrayed you."

His smile is the saddest kind. "A Loki betraying a Loki. That's the least surprising thing in the world. What's shocking is how I didn't see it coming. You really had me going with that kiss. Very nice distraction. Very Loki."

Free will comes with the fine-print of living with the consequences of your choices. And she has to live with hers every day. The tears finally spill out of her eyes. She hasn't let herself cry for a long, long time. But now she's breaking down worse than the multiverse. "I didn't do it to distract you. I did it to say goodbye."

He gets up, and she panics that he's leaving. Instead, he sits down in front of her, reaches for her hand, but changes his mind mid-way and lets them fall to his side. "You didn't have to say goodbye."

"It's all I've ever known." She feels like that scared little girl, far from home, running from minute men, with nobody to turn to but herself. "I told you, I don't have anyone."

"You had me."

That's the saddest part of it all, isn't it? Everything else in her life is the TVA's fault. She's torn from Asgard? Hasn't seen her parents in years? Can't remember her brother Thor? Spent her whole childhood running and hiding? All TVA.

But this? This is all her own doing. This is the one time she had something real, something worth holding onto, someone worth fighting against the world for. Instead, she questioned his intentions, didn't hold on, fought him and ruined everything.

"I didn't want to rule, Sylvie", he finally tells her. "I wanted you."

She has dreamed of this moment when he tells her how he feels. They have come so close to it so many times, the words dangling off the edge of his tongue but never quite finding their way out. She has always known- every word, every action pointed to it. But it was so hard to imagine someone could love her.

It's so hard to imagine someone can love her again. The past tense in his wording terrifies her worse than any danger ever could. "Is it too late to fix things?"

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "We are fixing things. That's why we are here. Saving the universe."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't know how to trust you again, Sylvie." He tells her point blank- no deception, no lies, no Loki-ism. "And you never trusted me to begin with."

That's not entirely true. She trusts him more than she has trusted anyone. "I really thought I was doing the right thing."

"I know."

(Not to be dramatic, but yeah, we're saving the universe.)

---

The Avengers are much nicer than Loki described them, considering they don't kill her for what she has done, instead tell her about their own journeys towards redemption. Wanda tells her about the man she has loved and lost, and the pain she has caused to an entire town. Barnes talks about his past as a brainwashed assassin. Clint tells her the story of Natasha and how she took charge and changed her life.

Thor is the kindest of them all. He talks about how far Loki himself has come. He tells her stories of his version of Asgard, the nine realms, the glorious battles, the beauty of earth.

She still dreams of death, but sometimes she doesn't.

Sometimes, she hopes.

---

(To be continued)

[eelistolvanen]

Bruises that you left behind - Travis Konecny Finale

A/N: HERE IT IS!! Finally got around to finish off the last parts. This chapter is a bit longer but hopefully you like it. Thanks to everyone who read this series, I honestly never thought I would be able to publish a nearly 20k long fic. So thank you for reading, liking, reblogging or sommenting on it. <3

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, no proofread (as usual), don’t know what else

Links to the previous parts:

Part 1       Part 2         Part 3       Part 4     

_____________________________________________________

“Have you looked at the teams that could draft you?” Your voice was quiet, soft. You weren’t entirely sure if this was crossing the line or not, since you knew that he didn’t want to think about the draft to much. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

“No, Y/N. It’s not in my hands anyway.“

“Well I did. And I think-“ “ Don’t Y/N. I could literally go to any team.”

“But some are more likely and some seem nicer than others…” You could hear him let out a deep sigh, letting you know that he gave in. “ Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean Ottawa would be perfect. You already play here and I’ve almost gotten used to this city. Calgary, Edmonton, Winnipeg are around there as well. There not as close as Ottawa but still Canada. Maybe there’s some other smaller cities…”

“Y/N, there are no real small cities. And you can barely tolerate Ottawa and it’s one of the smaller ones… Detroit’s close and-“

“But it’s so industrial and dark and… I don’t know, Travis. I just… What if it’s somewhere far away?”

“You’ll come with me… I’m not leaving you behind and I know you don’t like cities and would rather live here on the farm but I can’t change it.”

You let out a deep breath. “Travis, I just.. I want to come with you, I do. But I’m not made for a big city. I love my friends, my family, everything we’ve got here. And dragging me into some big city far away, feels a lot like locking me up in a cage. And you know how much I value freedom.”

“But you’ll make new friends, and you’ll warm up to living in a city, just like you did with Ottawa. WE can do this, we’re going to be just fine, okay?”

When you looked into his eyes you could see how sure he was of this, so you slowly exhaled.

“Okay. But promise me that you’re not gonna do this to me. If it’s someplace too big or to constricting for me, you won’t keep me locked in a cage. Promise me you won’t clip my wings.”

He gave you a soft smile and slowly caressed your face before his expression turned serious.

“I promise I won’t do this to you.”

 You were struggling to breath, trying to gasp for air.

“No, no no no. This is not…” You didn’t really know where you were going with this. Your heart was aching more than it had in a while. The things was he was right. You could almost hear 17 year old Travis saying it. He had promised you. He had promised you to not constrict you, promised you to not take you into some big dark city. How you hated cities. Or at least used to hate them.

He meant to do the right thing, at the wrong time. And how wrong he had been…

“I didn’t want you to have this life, you deserved someone better. Someone who is there for you all the time. Someone who doesn’t spent most of his time on the road while you are left behind in some apartment, some city that you hate. Before I was drafted I promised you I would never do this to you. Lock you in a cage, clip your wings as you said. You hated the city, you hated the thought of being away from your family and friends. You loved being outside, being in nature. Port Stanley, the lake, the farm. This life here is everything you hate. And I would not put you through this, no matter how much I loved you.”

This felt like a dagger straight through your heart. You really couldn’t imagine yourself living that life back then.

“I moved here for you, Travis. Because I loved you. And…” He took the words straight out of your mouth.

“That’s what I mean, Y/N. I didn’t want you to give up your dream life just for me. Can’t you see that?

“Hah…” your laugh sounded bitter, almost cruel. “How couldn’t you see how happy I was? I wanted that life Travis! You didn’t do this to me. I choose to come to Philly Travis! I made the final decisions. Because I loved you. Because it was worth it to me. But do you know what you really did? You left me! On our wedding day. And I tried to come after you but you already left. And I waited and waited and waited in our house. The house we were supposed to grown old together. Spend our time in the off season. Raise our kids.”

You paused trying to get some air in, now you felt like you were being constricted. Travis’ hand moved towards you, he tried to reach out to you but you pulled back. Took a step back, trying to get some more space between the two of you. You took a deep breath.

“But then Nolan told me where you were and that you wouldn’t come back. You never came back! So when Nolan left I burned the letter and started packing everything up. By midnight of that day I was gone.”  

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t! Sorry just doesn’t cut it.”

There were many moments were you felt broken, shattered in the last few years. But were have you felt this low. And little. And humiliated. You felt like the invisible hand around your neck had tightened. You needed to get out of here.

“I..  can’t do this, Trav. I need… time.” You barely got those words over your lips. You could see that Travis wanted to say something, reach out to you in any way. But he didn’t. He knew better than that. So he watched you get in your car and drive off into the distance. Probably trying to put as much space as possible in between the two of you.  

---------------

You threw yourself into work after that. Week after week. Occasionally meeting up with the girls or some of the guys on the team. You knew better this time than to push Nolan out of your life. You started to help Maddie with the wedding planning, even if you felt a little tug in your heart everytime you did. You felt like you were starting to get your life back a bit. Piece by piece.

It was a Sunday afternoon in late March when you felt a sudden urge to clean your apartment. You went through the kitchen, the living room and were just about starting in your room when your eyes fell onto a drawer in your room. And suddenly you felt like you knew exactly what you had to do. You felt pretty erratic and your mind was racing.

Within 20 minutes you were sitting your car in front of a building halfway through town. And for the next 10 minutes you contemplated whether this was actually the right thing to do. Was this really what you wanted? Should you really go through with it? But you were already here, so you exited the car.

Only when you walked through the lobby you realised that you weren’t sue how to get to his apartment. He wasn’t living in the same building anymore, then you used to live in. The receptionist probably wouldn’t just let you in and you didn’t really felt like explaining your situation to the receptionist.

So instead you exited the building and made your way back to the car. You needed to talk to him, now. Before you run again.

You didn’t have his number either so you texted Nolan to text Travis to come outside. You felt pretty weird, almost like some stalker waiting in front of a building until the person left the building or so. Thankfully, it didn’t take Nolan very long to respond and telling you that he texted Travis. He also mentioned that Travis hadn’t read the text yet.

You were still staring at you phone waiting for Nolan to update you when he exited the building and walked towards you. His steps were cautious and he seemed pretty tired. When he finally was a few steps away you felt your mind catch up.

“Uhh, I was just in the neighbourhood…” What a dumb thing to say, Y/N; you thought. He knew this was a lie. You were never in this area of town. But Travis seemed more confused than anything.

“Ah, yeah okay… What’s going on?” He seemed more nervous than usual. His confidence seemed non existent at this moment. He looked like a deer in the headlights. Well, you came to him so you might as well say what you came here for.

“I thought a lot about us after that conversation, Travis.” He looked guilty at the mention of your last conversation.

“You know, the reason why I burned that letter that day was because I thought that no matter what the reason was, it wouldn’t matter. Because in the end you left me. Yes, I wanted to know the reason why you did it. But it doesn’t change anything. No reason truly justifies what you did to me. Or makes up for all the pain. It just gives me clearance. You know even with that good intention, I just don’t understand why you didn’t ever talk to me about it. We were 17 when we made that promise and I don’t think we ever brought it up again.”

Travis was shaking his head desperately, you were pretty sure he knew where this was going.

“Please don’t, Y/N. Please…” But he knew he was losing this game.

“We’re not the Y/N and Travis that we once were. Not anymore. And we never will be, Travis. Believe me I want nothing more than to go back to that time. To that couple that we used to be. But this is never going to happen Travis and we both have to accept that.”

“You don’t know that, I mean you can’t just give up. I can’t do this without you.”

“You gave up on us a long time ago. And yes, you can. You’ve done it before. Just this time, I’m going to be the one who walks away.”

“Y/N…”

You stepped towards and took his hands in yours as you leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheeks. As you pulled away you placed something into his palms.

“Goodbye, Travis”

You stepped back towards your car as he looked down at his hands.

The little velvet box with your engagement ring.

And he knew that this was it.

Game over.

 ------------------------------------

The rest of the school year passed quickly and soon summer came around. You had been so busy teaching and helping Maddie with the wedding, time had flown by quickly. You hadn’t seen Travis again and you felt yourself heal again. You knew that there would always be a piece of you that would never be over him. A little piece of your heart would belong to him. But slowly you came to terms with the fact the the rest of your heart wouldn’t.

It was mid July now and Maddie’s wedding was finally here. You had been busy all weekend and you finally felt yourself able to relax as you were sitting in a chair getting your make up done.

“He’s gonna be here. He’s invited.” Maddie glanced over her shoulder towards you as her hairstylist send her a glare for moving around.

“I know Maddie, I’ll be fine.” You weren’t sure if that was actually true but at least you could try to make yourself believe that. Maddie didn’t comment on that but you were sure that she wasn’t really believing you.

The ceremony was drawing closer as you helped with Maddie’s dress and later slipped into your dress as well.

Eventually there was a knock on the door from Kevin, who was picking you up to walk you downstairs to the ceremony. He offered to be your date. He was one of the only single guys that you knew and you were sure that I wouldn’t hurt to have him by your side.

“Ahh, of you’re you look absolutely beautiful.” He gave you a beaming smile as he escorted you to the down the stairs and outside.

“You look sharp too, Kev. A real suit guy.” You winked at him as his booming laugh shook his body.

“Okay, calm down with that roasting.” He wasn’t really serious though, he loved when you chirped him.

“When your big day coming anyway? Ever gonna settle down?” Your eyes glinted, you knew how much he wanted to get married and have kids.

He just scoffed before replying,

“Yeah, yeah. One day I will find the right girl, you just wait.”

You started to mix with other guest as more people were drawing in, since the ceremony was coming closer. You spoke to some of the guys, found Nolan and Kelsey before going of to the side the catch some air.

You overlooked the seats and the aisle leading towards a little podium and you felt that heartache again. You just couldn’t quiet shake that wedding sadness. You were lost in thought when you felt someone approaching.  

You knew it was him behind you before you even turned around. The two of you had seemingly always had that. That special connection. That buzzing feeling you would get if he was close to you. The way you would always find each other in a crowded room. Like two magnets pulling towards each other.

And knowing that you would never get that with anyone else, ever, made your heart feel heavy. Travis had always been the one for you and no matter how hard you tried nobody could ever take his spot. You could love someone, yes. You could even see yourself spend your life with someone. But this person could never be him. They would never be able to make you feel what he did. You could never get that special connection, that buzzing feeling with anyone else, ever.

“I’m sure you’ve already been told but… You look stunning, Y/N!” He stepped beside you while you turned to face him. He was dressed in your favourite navy suit and a crisp white dress shirt. He wasn’t wearing a tie, the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned instead. He gave you a shy smile. One that told you that he wasn’t entirely sure whether he just stepped over a line or not.

“Thank you. You don’t look to bad yourself, Travis.” An you meant it. He did look good. Better than he had in months. The bags under his eyes had disappeared, he looked younger now. More like his actual age. And there was a glint in his eyes. The sparkle that you used to love so much.

He stayed silent for a bit. You could see he was deep in thought, somewhere else even though physically he was beside you.  Just when you got used to the silence between you two, he spoke up again.

“You were right. We’re not the same people we once were. And we never will be. We will never be the Y/N and Travis we once were. And we will never be the couple we were then. People change and people grow. You’re not the same person at 20 than you were at 17. And you’re not the same person now than what you were at 20. And I just know that the person that I am now loves you just as much as the person I was at 20. Or the boy I was at 17. And I know that I will still love you when I’m 40. Or 70. I will never stop loving you, Y/N.”

He took a deep breath, trying to sort the words that were swirling around in his head into a sentence. His little speech left you breathless. You were sure he had been thinking about this for weeks. And he was right, people do change and people grow. But that doesn’t always mean that people grow in the same direction.

“I’ve always wanted this, you know?” He was gesturing around him. “Since I met you I knew that you were the one for me. That you were the one I was going to marry one day. You were the person I wanted to have kids with. I wanted this life for us so bad, I lost sight of us. I lost myself and the person I used to be. And when I realised that I felt like I had already pushed you into it. So I did the only thing I knew. I ran.”

Your heart felt heavy and looking at him wasn’t helping. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were trained on the ground but you could see the glazing over his eyes. He was close to tears and this truly hit home to you.

He had told you so many times that he didn’t intent to hurt you but you never believed him, how could you? But now you understood that he truly thought it was the only way. That he had already pushed you too far into the cage to retrack what he had done. That the only way to keep you from losing your freedom was to let you go. To leave the cage open and walk away.

He got it all wrong though. Because you didn’t feel like he was putting you in a cage or clipping your wings.

“I wanted to marry you, Travis. You weren’t pressuring me into it.” He had to know that, the last thing you wanted was for him to carry that guilt around.

He finally turned his gaze towards you and looked you in the eyes. His lips were pressed into a pained line.

“I know. I know that now.” His eyes searched for yours before he slowly took a step towards you.

He brushed a hair out of your face before giving you a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Enjoy the wedding. I might see you later.”  

The gesture was so sweet, so intimate. It felt so domestic, like something he would do everyday. A painful thought crossed your brain then. It felt so domestic because he used to do it everyday.

“You ruined weddings for me.” You didn’t mean to say those words out loud, you weren’t even consciously thinking them and to be honest you thought he was out of earshot already. But he stopped in his track and turned back to you. You didn’t dare to fully turn around, only just looking over your shoulder.

“I’ve ruined a lot of things for you, Y/N. I wish I could undo it.” And with that he vanished into the crowd.

You endured the ceremony. Well maybe that’s a bit harsh. You were happy for Maddie and Provy and the ceremony was incredibly beautiful. But you couldn’t help the bitter taste in your mouth. This should have been Travis and you, 3 years ago.

You let the wedding pass over you, you enjoyed hanging out with the team, catching up with the girls, you even let Kevin drag you to the dance floor.

You tiredly let yourself fall into a chair besides Kevin. You followed his gaze to another table. Travis was sitting there, seemingly without much company. You didn’t know whether he had  a date or not but by the looks of it was he here by himself. Kevin must have noticed that you were looking at Travis.

“If you’re ever going to forgive him and give him another chance, might as well do it now. I know he will wait for you for as long as you want but… you never know how long someone is going to stay in your life. Take it from someone who had both parents go through cancer and nearly lost a leg, okay? Life won’t wait around for you. Don’t let it pass you by.”

With that he rose from his chair beside you. You wanted to make some funny remark about him being all poetic and shit but he had already made his way towards the bar. You followed his advice non the less and made your way towards Travis.

“This seat taken?” He nearly fell off his chair once he realised who asked the question.

“Of course! Uh, I mean, no it’s not taken.” You chuckled at him stumbling over those words. You sat down.

“You seem lonely, no date?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Was this to much? Did you step over a line? Travis seemed to relax himself and smiled.

“Ah haha, yeah no date. You came with Kevin?” It was nonchalant but you knew the deeper meaning behind his question.

“Yeah, always better to come with a friend than alone, you know.”

He nodded agreeingly before an uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you.

The songs were a slower than before which meant they weren’t as tiring as before. And before you could stop yourself your suggestion had already crossed your lips.

“Do you wanna dance?”  

An immediate smile spread across Travis’ face. “Yeah, of course. I mean if that’s what you want.”

You laughed quietly and nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that. Just don’t step on my feet.”

“I try my best.”

For a bit the two of you swayed quietly to the music. It was already rather late so there weren’t to may people on the dance floor. The song changed and you let out a dry laugh as you realised what song had come on. Travis must have notice your reaction too.

“What?” He looked confused. “What’s funny.”

“Nothing, just the song.” He stilled and listened to the music. It was a Lewis Capaldi song. And it hit closer to home than you liked.

I've been holding on to hope That you'll come back when you can find some peace 'Cause every word that I've heard spoken Since you left feels like an hollow street

 The song perfectly seemed to portray you and Travis. You felt your emotion dwelling up, as you heard the next verse.

I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind But I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind Oh my lord, oh my lord, I need you by my side

 You let out a choked laugh. “I wish I could get you off my mind, but I can’t. Part of me will always be yours, Trav.” You gave him small smile before singing that verse again as it was repeated.

“I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind, but I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind. Oh my lord, oh my lord, I need you by my side.”

Travis seemed to understand your involvement with the lyrics as he gave you a sad smile.

“I was such a coward. I’m sorry Y/N.” He brushed a tear away that had started to roll down your cheek. “I should have fought for us, instead I gave up on us. I thought that the only way to give you the freedom I promised you, was to let go of you, to leave you. I was too much of a coward to let you fly free, because I thought you’d slip away and then I lost you anyway. I know you wanted to get married too but I should have never put that much pressure on it. I’m truly sorry.”

You leaned you forehead against his as you still slowly moved with the music. The song had changed now.

“I know Trav. I know. Do you think that one day we can be Y/N and Travis again? I mean not the same as we used to but a grown version. Do you think it could work again?”

You could hear Travis holding his breath as he patiently listened to you. His eyes were trained on yours, searching for meaning behind your words.

“Yeah, I think so. If you give me another chance I will prove it to you. Okay?”

You felt your heart speeding up at his words. Take a chance, you thought, before life passes you by. But instead of answering you leaned in and slowly connected your lips with his. The kiss was slow almost shy at first before Travis started to deepen it. Once you broke apart Travis slowly stroked your cheek before murmuring,

“You’re my always, you know that right?”

 Epilogue:

The two of you took it slow afterwards. Both of you needed to get to know each other again, ease into each other again. But it felt right. Being with Travis had always felt right. Once your lease was up you move in with him and you were thankful that he wasn’t living in your old house anymore. As much as you loved your old place that you had together and all the memories that came with it, you needed something else. After all you weren’t the people that you used to be then. And that was a good thing.

He never asked you to marry him. One day a little box with an new engagement ring had just been placed onto your nightstand. Travis only comment to this was that he had already proposed to you and that this time you were calling the shots when you felt ready to marry him. And whenever you felt ready the ring would be there. He let the old engagement ring be made into a pendant since it was to meaningful to your relationship to give it away and to pretty to just let it sit in a box. And now you were wearing one around your finger and one around your neck, close to your heart as Travis liked to say.

And then the day was here. You knew you were ready but that didn’t mean that you weren’t feeling a tiny bit anxious about your wedding day.

Maddie looked over your shoulder and soothingly rubbed your back.

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.” She gave you one of her bright smiles.

You quietly laughed. “As if Maddie. You looked like some top model or something at your wedding. But I’ll gladly take second.”

Maddie erupted in laughter while you gave her a sly smile. Her expression turned serious again as she eyed the object in your hands.

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually, Y/N.”

She was right, of course. And you knew you had to tell him sooner or later. You couldn’t keep it from him forever.

“I’ll go and get you something to drink, some water or something.” Maddie gave you a soft smile before making her way to the door. Just before she closed the door behind her you heard her say:

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here now…”

You felt like your heart stopped beating for a moment. An unwanted flashback crossed your brain.

The mental picture of Nolan making his way towards you with that cautious expression on his face.

“He’s not coming, Y/N.”  Those words would probably haunt you forever.

Just as you felt yourself starting to panic Travis appeared in the doorway and quickly closed the door behind him.

“Travis?!” You probably looked like you just saw the lochness monster or something. What was he even doing here?

He approached you with a sly smile on his face.

“Hey, babe.” “You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony..” Your words lacked any kind of force or enthusiasm. And before you knew your soon to be husband had engulfed you in a hug.

“What? Who said that?” His voice was light, almost joking.

“It brings bad luck or misfortune if the groom sees the bride before the ceremony.” Your explanation sounded lame and you were actually happy to see him even if your initial surprise might let him believe otherwise.

He chuckled before giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Ahh, that sounds pretty stupid. And you can’t blame me for wanting to say good morning to my wife.”

His eyes searched for yours while he gave you his brightest smile. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics. Then you remembered the object you’d held in your hands just a few moments before and you got serious again. Now was as good of a moment than ever.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” You felt yourself grow nervous, you knew there was no reason for it but you couldn’t help it.

“Don’t tell me you want to run away this time.” He was joking, a smirk plastered all over his face.

“Travis I’m serious!” At that his smile dropped. Uncertainty crossed his features.

You grabbed the little square paper you had put down moments ago.

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out while handing him the ultrasound. His eyes nearly popped out of his head while he stared at the picture.

“I.. I … You..” He seemed lost for words and you were almost starting to get worried when he lifted him head up and looked into your eyes. He seemed to explode with happiness.

“I’m going to be a dad? This is not a joke right? We’re having a baby?” You could just nod as he picked you up and spun you around.

“Oh my god, this is the best day of my life.” He nearly knocked his head with yours as he dove in to give you a deep kiss. Once you pulled apart and you found your breath you spoke up.

“Promise me something, Travis. Promise me you won’t run again. Promise me that you’ll fight for us no matter what we face. Don’t ever let me go again, Trav.”

“Never! I promise.”

~ the end ~  

[ibijau]

Concubine nhs pt11 / on AO3

It is odd to exist in this little house and not have a purpose, Nie Huaisang decides a few weeks after being discarded. For three years his entire life has revolved around the emperor, his only wish being to distract him from his duties to make him happy. Now the emperor is miserable whenever he visits, and Nie Huaisang isn't allowed to do anything about that. Not when the emperor has made it very clear that he is now disgusted by the idea of any intimacy between them, and talking feels so awkward.

If he cannot kiss him, or please him in bed, if they cannot laugh or even talk, Nie Huaisang doesn't know what the point of everything is anymore. 

His days are emptier than ever. His nights no longer bring any comfort. Nie Huaisang is miserable.

Worse, Nie Huaisang is bored. A deep, insidious boredom that taints every moment he’s awake, that even pursues him in his dreams sometimes, or makes it impossible to sleep, denying him even that relief.

If he weren't so constantly bored, Nie Huaisang wouldn't have started checking those documents the emperor now brings with him when he visits. He’s perfectly aware that he shouldn’t do that all. It’s not his business, it’s politics, it’ll land him in trouble, but... 

But the emperor always falls asleep long before him, and always ends up in terrible positions in that stupid sofa, and half the time he forgets to use a blanket. Nie Huaisang has to make sure the emperor doesn't catch a cold. And then those documents are right there, and he's so bored. 

The books Lan Qiren sends him don't last as long as they used to, now that he doesn't have to stop reading them at night. They're also less interesting, at least those newest batches: treaties on how to analyse texts, or write essays. It's all so painfully boring that by comparison, official reports filled with numbers are pretty interesting. 

Nie Huaisang doesn't mean to read that stuff, it just happens. And the first time it happens, he stops as soon as he realises what he's doing. It's politics, and he's sworn to himself he'd never get involved in that. He scolds himself very hard that first time, and the second one too. Even the third time. But the fourth time… 

The fourth time is different.

The thing is, Nie Huaisang is pretty good with numbers. That's the reason why his father relented and finally recognised him. Nie Huaisang can't read the classics with ease because he’s still learning some of those less common characters. He values fun stories over respected ones, which isn’t what a real scholar could do. And he can't quite say what makes a good poem better than a bad one, he just likes them or he doesn’t. But he's quick at counting and has a natural knack for arithmetics. That's why his father put him in charge of organising banquets and overseeing finances, and he likes to think he saved them some good money in the time he held that duty.

So when he starts noticing discrepancies on those imperial reports, Nie Huaisang doesn't really think. He does what he would have done for his father, and writes down everything he notices. Because he doesn't quite understand what those reports are about, Nie Huaisang doesn't dare to guess why the numbers are wrong. He just knows that they are. So he leaves his notes on the table for the emperor to find when he wakes up, and hope that will be helpful.

He just so badly wants to be helpful. Maybe if he shows that he can still be useful, the emperor will start smiling at him again, or even talk to him.

Nie Huaisang just feels so lonely and bored. 

Later, when it is light again and he's alone in his little house, Nie Huaisang wonders if that was the right thing to do. Since nobody comes to drag him out of his cage to publicly whip him as an example to others, it can't have been wrong. But the emperor doesn't visit for a full three days after that, so maybe it wasn't right either. 

On the third day, the emperor's brother visits, and sheds some light on that long absence. 

"Brother has been given proof that the magistrate in the region of Yunping City was corrupt, and hindering the war effort," the prince explains, which might be the most Nie Huaisang ever heard him say at once. "Urgent measures had to be taken."

Nie Huaisang doesn't dare to ask, and stares at his glass of tea. That report he wrote notes on was definitely about Yunping City. It means he might have become involved in politics after all, against his will. As if he can afford to be making enemies, in his position. 

"Due to this situation, I will leave for Yunping City," the prince announces. "I will work with Lord Jiang to restore the situation. Consort Nie knows him?" 

"Only a little," Nie Huaisang meekly protests. "He is a friend of my father. This humble one knows his children a little, and his ward Wei Wuxian, but not that well." 

The prince nods, and takes a sip of tea. That should be the end of it. The prince never speaks much, and he’s just used more words than he usually does in an entire month. Surely he’s told Nie Huaisang everything he had to say on that matter.

Right?

"Jiang gongzi and Wei gongzi are to assist me," The prince explains, putting down his glass. "Will consort Nie tell me about them? I want to know what to expect." 

Nie Huaisang frowns at that request. 

"Surely there are many others in the palace who can tell you that? This one is only a humble servant's son, his knowledge is too imperfect to be useful." 

"Others can have their opinion," the prince retorts. "I wish to hear consort Nie's." 

A direct order from the imperial prince cannot be denied, least of all by a concubine fallen out of favour. Sick with worry at the prospect of being again dragged into politics, Nie Huaisang still does what he's told and gives as honest a portrait of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin as he can. He makes sure to point out their qualities, which are many, but also acknowledges their faults: Jiang Cheng's temper, Wei Wuxian's overconfidence, and the way they only really shine when they work together. 

It appears to please the prince, who thanks Nie Huaisang for his answers before taking his leave. He will write from Yunping City, he says, and might ask again for Nie Huaisang’s opinion in the future. 

"Please don't," Nie Huaisang begs. "This humble one is unworthy of such an honour." 

The prince doesn't reply, and Nie Huaisang is left alone to wonder if he's made another mistake. 

That night, the emperor visits again. He doesn't speak about those notes Nie Huaisang left him, though several times he stares at his concubine as if he were on the verge of saying something, only to change his mind at the last minute. His expression is so intense each time that Nie Huaisang ends up pretending to fall asleep just so the emperor will stop looking at him like that.

He takes notice of the fact that this time, the emperor brought a book with him, not reports. Nie Huaisang figures it's a message that his intervention, though perhaps useful, is resented. 

Nobody wants to owe anything to a mere concubine. 

After that one incident, life returns to normal. Or at least, as what passes for normal these days. 

Nie Huaisang is lonelier than ever. The emperor ignores him when he spends the night in the little house. The emperor's uncle, who was supposed to visit and find him a teacher, is too busy to do either due to having to take over some of the prince’s duties. And since that same prince is far away in Yunping City, even that last illusion of companionship has been torn away. 

Nie Huaisang is lonely. 

Nie Huaisang is miserable. 

So miserable, in fact, that he can't even rejoice when the aviary the emperor built for him is finally complete. Of course he puts on a smile when there is a banquet to celebrate this happy occasion, and plays perfectly his role of a cheerful concubine. He almost fools himself into feeling grateful and happy. Maybe he is happy, sitting again with the emperor, seeing him smile like this. It's easy to pretend, when Nie Huaisang so dearly misses how happy they used to be. 

But the next day, when he visits his aviary again, alone this time, Nie Huaisang only feels more depressed than ever. He wants to open every door to every cage, and let those expensive birds fly away. They all look as sad as he feels. But of course just like him, they probably wouldn't know how to survive outside a cage anymore.

If it were up to him, Nie Huaisang would never look at his aviary again. 

It isn't up to him. 

If he doesn't go, it will be noticed, he knows, just as it would be noticed if the emperor stopped coming to see him. If Nie Huaisang doesn’t check on his pretty new birds, people will say that the emperor spent a fortune spoiling a concubine who won't be satisfied with even the most expensive of presents. They will say the emperor is weak and foolish, or worse things even, and Nie Huaisang can't bear it. 

So he visits his birds daily. It is a punishment for fooling the emperor, for playing his father' s games. For being foolish enough to fall in love, when Meng Yao once warned him it is the one mistake a concubine should never make. At the time, Nie Huaisang hadn't understood. He does now. Being discarded would hurt so much less if he could only stop caring. 

But that's life now. Reading boring volumes selected by the emperor's uncle, spending time with birds he doesn't want, being ignored all night by the emperor himself. A new routine, much worse than the old one he used to have. 

A routine that finally shatters when one day, Nie Huaisang finds a stranger in his aviary, looking at his birds. 

Although there were many guests at the celebration to mark the completion of that aviary, the emperor made it clear that no one but Nie Huaisang, himself, and the servants attached to the aviary are allowed to come there. If the emperor were to have given permission to anyone else, he would surely have warned Nie Huaisang. And that boy's clothes are just good enough to make it clear that he cannot be a servant. 

He definitely is just a boy though, probably younger than Nie Huaisang by a few years. And yet there's a certain air to him, as if in spite of his youth, that boy knows more about life than some people much older than him. He just sounds so sad as he greets the talking birds. 

If that boy had been cheerful, or confident, Nie Huaisang could easily have chased him away. Happy people annoy him, when he has so little left to be joyful about. But seeing someone as depressed as himself makes his heart ache, reminding him how very lonely he is. 

Nie Huaisang watches that boy trying to chat with a pair of mynahs in a gentle voice that borders on hopeless, and comes to a decision.

"They're not very chatty," he says, startling the boy. "At least, not yet. I'm still working on teaching them to talk." 

The boy stares at him for a moment, then bows quickly and a little clumsily, betraying that he hasn't been trained for the imperial palace. Nie Huaisang remembers how he struggled as well when his father acknowledged him, when he came to the capital, and feels his heart swell again with sympathy. 

"Are you in charge of training them?" the boy hesitantly asks.

Since the emperor has made it clear that he no longer enjoys seeing Nie Huaisang covered in fineries, most of the time he dresses quite simply. It’s easier to put on, and it makes him feel a little less like a liar. He misses the fine silks and heavy gold sometimes, but plain clothes are more honest. Still, his clothes are only plain by comparison to the more extravagant outfits he used to wear for the emperor. Anyone glancing at him would take him for the privileged son of a great family… which he is, he supposes.

The point is, that boy must have already guessed that Nie Huaisang isn’t just one of the servants looking after the birds, so he doesn’t see any point in hiding.

"They're mine, actually," Nie Huaisang says, only to instantly regret it. 

The boy's eyes open wide, his face turning ashen before he falls to his knees and kowtow before Nie Huaisang, his entire body shaking with terror. 

"T-this humble one didn't realise! This humble one begs for your highness's mercy!"

Distressed by that strong reaction, Nie Huaisang takes a step back.

"I'm no highness."

"Your highness must be consort Nie!” the boy cries out. “This humble one never meant to intrude! This one knows no one is allowed here, but I really had to check, and… may his highness show mercy, though this one is undeserving!"

Nie Huaisang blinks. 

He knows, of course, that he's technically someone important. Servants are always very careful around him, and he has (had) the emperor's favour, which he could easily use to get his way, if he were so inclined. But since he lives in such isolation, and only leaves his little house for official occasions where everyone’s behaviour is strictly regimented by custom, it's rare for him to actually encounter anyone who might feel they owe him such open deference. 

He doesn't particularly enjoy it, he quickly decides.

"Please get up," he orders. "I'm guessing you came here by accident?" 

Refusing to stand up, the boy nods. 

"I was looking for my young master,” he explains in a pitiful voice. “I am a companion to a young lord called Ouyang Zizhen, and he escaped from me a little while ago when playing." 

The name Ouyang is familiar, but only vaguely. They might be related in some way to the emperor's late mother, though Nie Huaisang doesn't think the emperor is particularly close to them. Lord Ouyang is just closely related enough to be allowed to live inside the palace, but his son will likely not be allowed to remain there after his death. Anyway, the emperor rarely mentions them, and Nie Huaisang is pretty sure their son is a lot younger than this boy. 

Noble families like to bring in companions for their sons, as was done for the emperor, because they think it makes them look important.But sometimes what they really want is just a glorified nanny they don’t have to actually pay.

"What's your name?" Nie Huaisang asks. 

"This humble one is Mo Xuanyu." 

The name Mo doesn't ring a bell at all. They must be very minor in rank, or just rich merchants. Either way, people like that would take it as an honour to send one of their sons to the imperial palace, even if it’s just to serve an unimportant family. Being a young lord’s companion would give Mo Xuanyu the chance of a free education, at least if the family he’s serving treats him with any decency. They don’t always, as Nie Huaisang knows. The emperor complained about that sometimes, saying some families were very cruel to their sons’ companions.

But that was back when they would actually talk.

Nie Huaisang can’t remember when was the last time anyone talked to him.

He misses talking.

"Do you like birds, Mo Xuanyu ?" 

"Y-yes, your highness." 

"Me too. Do you know what species are here?" 

Puzzled by that question, Mo Xuanyu dares to look up as he shakes his head. Nie Huaisang grins, and kneels next to him, grabbing the boy's arm to force him back on his feet. It might be a mistake, but he’s been lonely so long, and Mo Xuanyu, in spite of his obvious fear, is actually talking to him.

Nie Huaisang wonders if that’s how the emperor felt that night, when he spoke to him with such insolence in the Unclean Realm. He quickly pushes the thought away. The situations are completely different, because Mo Xuanyu knows who he is.

"Do you want me to give you a tour?" Nie Huaisang asks.

After some hesitation, Mo Xuanyu shakes his head and bows away.

"I should really go find my master," he mumbles. "It's not that I don't want… I mean, this humble one would be honoured, those birds are all so pretty, and I really like… but I can’t, I have to…" 

"Duty calls, I understand,” Nie Huaisang replies. “But then, do you think you might come here again another day? I give you permission, so you won't get punished if you do. And then I can tell you more about the birds, if you’d like." 

Mo Xuanyu's expression is so funny as he eagerly nods, full of awe and wonder. Nie Huaisang almost laughs. 

He hasn’t wanted to laugh in so long.

He knows he probably shouldn't talk like this to a near stranger. He should be prudent, check the status of the Ouyang family, find out who the Mo are, and ask about Mo Xuanyu's reputation. But it has been so long since Nie Huaisang spoke to anyone, and he can't help the sense of kinship he gets when he looks at Mo Xuyanyu. They're the same, he can just tell: small and lonely, thrown into a world where they don't belong, forced to make the best of choices others made for them. 

But Mo Xuanyu shyly promises to visit the aviary again, and Nie Huaisang is happy. 

He hopes they can be friends.

[mxvladdy]

Ey, could you make food source reactions for Mammon & Levi like you did with the others?

I've read it like 3 times now, they're all so sweet and believable you did a great job!

You got it Fam! Glad you like them so much lol. (I got a lot more angsty with Mammon than I thought I would but I love him sooooo)

Mammon

This poor man. He gets to spend so little time alone with you. He has to make every second count. Between the hustling, modeling, and running from Lucifer, he’s a pretty busy guy. 

So he plans date nights. Just you, him, and his leather couch. Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear? He looks forward to this every month. He pins it on his calendar too just so he doesn’t double book himself. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. Just cause he plans this doesn’t mean he necessarily has a plan. Not that you care. Most of his activities turn into trouble anyway, even when he is not trying.  

 Sometimes he teaches you how to play cards (also shows you human ways to cheat-just in case you need it). The hours are spent pleasantly sitting in his lap while he teaches you how to count cards.

But, most nights, he just wants to talk. He enjoys his time with you. You and him cuddling and chatting away the hours before passing out for the night. 

He has a lot of things he wants to know about you. To him, he feels like if he knows you better than the other brothers he’s won. 

Won what? Idk, your affection? Approval? He already has it, but he is insecure about his place in your heart regardless. 

This evening starts out like any other. Mammon dashing to the kitchens to pilfer some snacks and drinks before Beel can steal them all, and you bring your cute self over to his room. 

You two toss back a few drinks and spend some time looking over his latest photo shoots before going on to the main event. Tonight you brought one of your favorite human card games. It was like 20 questions, but some questions were more risque than others. Was it meant for more than two players? Yes, but whatever- Mammon wants to play it so you are.

You both are relaxed and drowsy by the time you start playing. Your stomachs are full of junk, and the morning moons are just on the horizon. It’s the perfect mixture for loose lips and secrets, before falling asleep in each other's arms. 

You pick easy cards first, jumping from silly innocent questions to one that made him blush from ear to ear. The hours pass quickly and Mammon’s answers become more slurred and accented as he tires out. 

He was on the verge of sleep when you ask,  “What’s your favorite dish?” 

It was a slip of the tongue, a long-lost memory pulled up from the dregs of his exhausted mind. He remembers a savory dish Barbatos use to make way back when. He can still smell the savory smoky spices mixing with the fresh vegetables and meat- Oh shit.

He feels you stiffen and he ain’t sleepy anymore, that’s for sure. Immediately up and apologizes. He stumbles over himself in his haste to explain himself. 

You spend the rest of the evening with him in your arms trying to comfort him as he tearfully swears he hasn’t eaten a person in a couple of hundred years. 

Mini Fic

He regrets it the moment the words slip out. His sleepy remark hangs out in the chilly air of his room. He feels you jerk in his arms as if punched. “Shit! I-I didn’t mean.” Mouth agape, he backtracks, tongue working faster than his overtaxed brain. He looks down at your head on his chest. 

Your eyes are wide. Their surprise reflected in the bright blue moonlight. His heart sinks to his stomach. Gods, he ruined it. “I’m sorry- I.”  Pushing you off of his chest he goes to grab his shirt and redress, ignoring the prickling heat growing at the corner of his eyes. He could sleep somewhere else tonight. You could have the room if you wanted, or at least give you a minute to flee in terror from the demon that masqueraded as your friend. He can’t look at you. Hells, he was too ashamed to even glance in your direction. What kind of idiot let’s slip that? They even had a council meeting about this very thing before you arrived. 

So lost in his panic he doesn’t notice you trying to get his attention. It wasn’t until you forcefully grab his arm did he hear you. “It’s ok Mammon.” You engulf him in your warm and comforting scent. Strong arms dragging him back to the crumpled sheets of his bed. Your soft fingers wipe at the silent tears streaking down his cheeks. 

He dislodges himself from your light grasp to rub at his own eyes. “How can ya’ say that?” Where was your sense of self-preservation? Ain’t humans supposed to be aware of such dangers? The irony wasn’t lost on him though. Being your ‘protector’ and all.

You shuffle closer, hellbent on comforting. His pack mark hums gently on his chest when you touch it. As much as his body wanted to run, your pact mark cemented him to his seat. He sits while you fuss over him slowly breathing through his mouth to calm his racing heart. He can’t help but drift closer to you when he feels your hand on the top of his head. When had he become so weak for you? 

“Well-How can I not?” You shrug. He closes his eyes when you start ruffling his fringe. “You’ve been nothing but sweet to me. Yes, you have,” You cut him off firmly before he can object. “Always my number one anyway.” That pulls a wet chuckle from your demon. His eyes clear up at your admission. “I trust you Mammon, honestly. I mean, I kinda knew that you’ve probably eaten a human or two in your life. Knowing, and knowing are more different than I thought.” 

 Mammon cages you in his arms, his nose brushing along your neck and jawline. “Damn-.” He huffs covering you in his warm body, arms tight around your sides. “I’m sorry. I ruined tonight.” Mammon sighs into your skin. 

You hug him back. “Nonsense, if you want to get technical I think you won this game. I can’t top that answer.” You push away with a wide yawn. “Now can we go back to bed?” With a nod, he flops over pulling you down with him. You bully your way into his arms again. Sighing constantly you snuggle in for the night, ready to drift off. His eyelids began to feel heavy again too. Your soft weight on him like a security blanket. He listens to your slowly beating heart, matching his breathing to yours. The rhythmic thumps working to calm him better than his noise machine. He basks in your presence, rubbing his broad hand down your back for a moment before you speak again.

“Hey, Mammon.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you think I would taste good?” 

Leviathan 

Awkward boy. Of course, he has had his fair share of humans. Not particularly his favorite through. A lot of the time it wasn’t on purpose. His demon form is big and sometimes more than just fish and other demons get swallowed up. Course when that happened, they weren’t exactly fresh either. Bleh-just thinking about it makes his stomach turn. 

No, he never got a taste for it, even when it was served in the royal palace. The memories of the sea are still pretty vivid. It never really crosses his mind anymore. Till you bring it up.

He invites you over for a game night. A new VR game he had been saving up for just dropped and he had to play it with you.

It was a horror stealth game. Heavy on critical thinking and solving puzzles in real-time.

Your two characters were on a race against time against a flesh eating cult that had invaded a small village. He thought it was a fun concept and you both liked horror games. He didn’t notice how quiet you had gotten until you had set your controller down. 

You ask during a loading screen after a pretty graphic cut scene of a npc getting caught. How realistic was that cut scene? Had he ever eaten a human before?

Boy is a brighter pink than Ruri-chan’s signature outfit (and twice as cute lbr) 

He gets so flustered that he misses the start of the next round and gets you both eaten. 

He doesn’t take conflict well. Like at all. He much rather slink off into his fish tank and hide than answer you. In fact, that sounds like an excellent idea.  

He slithers back out of his tank hours later thinking you had left or found a better brother to hang out with. Yucky people eaters like him aren’t good company for humans. 

You jump him the minute his feet are back on solid ground. Have an answer now you must! Yrssss. 

Mini Fic

“L-Let go!” Levi shrieks, caught in your sneak attack. He locks up when you jump him, all four of your limbs wrapping around his soaking body like an octopus. 

“No!” You squeeze him harder taking full advantage of the fact that he won’t remove you himself. You feel the heat of his blush through his soaked clothes as you cling closer. If he could blush any harder you were pretty sure steam would be wafting off of him. 

“Why do you want to know anyway?” He wiggles gently, trying to loosen your tight grip. 

“Morbid curiosity.” Well, at least you were honest. He was still going to say no, you didn’t need to know that about him. He opens his mouth to shut you down but makes the mistake of looking at you. The words die when he catches the pout growing on your face. Oh no- his one weakness. Your way your lower lip pops out adorably, accompanied by slightly puffed-out cheeks. It was a one-two punch to his defenses. 

“I-they weren’t on purpose.” He pleads. Nevermore in his life did he wish he could turn into a mist-like his brother. He feels you slip off of him. Your bare feet don’t make a sound on his carpeted floor. “It just happened sometimes.” He admits. You accept it for a few seconds before his words fully hit you.

“Wait? How do you accidentally eat someone?” You ask incredulously. “All though- that’s something Beel might do.” You ponder the logistics and step back to give him some space.

He rights himself, wicking the moisture from his coat and pants with magic until he is completely dry again. You start asking a dozen more questions in rapid fire. It was enough to make his head spin. You were too curious for your own good. “Ever heard of basking whales?”  

You blink. 

Levi sighs and waves a hand to himself.  “When I lived in the ocean… I’m big ya know. I kinda would just open my mouth and swallow. Whatever I caught I ate.” He waits for you to get the jest. Most of the time it was smaller fish and aquatic mammals. When a demon encroached on his territory he would eat them too. The dead were meant for his army, but sometimes they got sucked into.

Instead of nodding in understatement, you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand and snort. His eyes grow big and his blush turns brighter. You were spending way too much time with Asmo. “No-Not like that!” His flailing only makes you laugh harder. Great, as if he didn’t want to die of embarrassment already.

“Well word it better, nerd.” You laugh retreating back to the mound of pillows you claimed for gaming, VR headset in hand. “Come on, we have to start over now- thanks to someone.”

“You started it!” Levi shoots back grabbing up his gear as well. He fiddles with it for a moment before glancing back at you. You were oblivious to inner turmoil over this admission. A naval admiral was one thing. Humans had them too, that wasn’t too much for you to comprehend. Being a devil was easy enough to understand too, at least in his mind. But eating people? Shouldn’t you be more concerned? “So-that’s it?”

You look up questioningly. “What’s it?” 

He raises a purple brow. “You have nothing else to say? I just admitted to eating people!” 

“Not really.” You shrug. “I can’t get too pressed about it. It’s not like you are human. I’m like what-at the bottom of the food chain to you, right?” Levi nods. “See! So no point stressing over it. ‘Sides, you haven’t munched on me yet.” You turn your attention back to the screen, flicking your controller to wake his flat-screen back up. “Unless~” He gulps at the sly eyebrow wiggle you throw at him, the shit eating grin that accompanied it only made him worry.  “Perhaps you just have an appetite for seamen.” 

Your peals of laughter mix with his shrill yelps of objection, as he tackles you. His previous worries were completely forgotten by your teasing. 

[chuckbass-love]

20,39,42 with Andy Barber?

Hey, lovely anon. First of all i hope you’re doing well and second of all, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it. It’s been a hot minute since i last wrote for Andy.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Prompts Used: 

20) “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are”

39) “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

42) “I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Warnings: Smut. Sexual intercourse, vaginal sex, spanking, daddy kink, love making (kinda), arguing, swearing, angst and a sprinkle of fluff for good measure. That’s right, used all 3. 18+ you know the drill.

Word Count: 6,796

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @cassercole go check them out💕

Do You Feel What I Feel?

After a long and interesting weekend, you’re a lot less eager to get back behind your desk to work for Andy Barber than you usually are. One reason in particular being that you’ve been dating other people behind his back. See the thing with you and Andy is that you’ve known him for 2 whole years, worked for him for 1 year and been fucking him since the evening of your very first day. He got you the job to work with him after you got laid off.

You met him after he showed up for one of your seminars at college and he gave a presentation on what it’s like to be a lawyer and you just clicked. But it was strictly platonic...until you showed up on that first day dressed in a knee length skirt, a semi sheer polka dot blouse with stockings and heels. He was shocked to say the least. You looked entirely different and he’d never seen you this way before. It turned him on and he let you know it. 

As you were packing your things away and bidding him goodbye for the day, he called you back into his office and instructed you to lock the door behind you before he began to inform you of the effect you had on him. Starting slowly by telling you how he was taken aback by your ability to think on your feet, use your initiative and then just like that, it all came out and he couldn’t control his hunger much longer. 

He kissed you so hard that night that the breath was knocked from your lungs but you loved it, you yearned for more of that feeling and he fucked you so good that you made it a regular thing, without even realising it was becoming one until it was too late. You’d just show up at each others places without a warning and before you knew it, he was fucking you into the mattress and making you cum with a cry of his name.

Now back to the present... you like Andy, in fact if you’re being truthful with yourself, you’ve fallen so madly in love with him that you know it’s time to quit him. He’s like a drug, an addiction and you need to stop going back for more. Hence why you decided that enough was enough. 

You met a guy online, his name is Ashley and he was more than keen to take you out so you happily obliged and sure you had a nice time but there’s just one issue lying in your way. Andy is unsuspecting of your little date and it’s been eating away at you since said date walked you back to your apartment. You know that you need to tell him but you fear that it’ll cost you your job, he did hire you to help you out after all.

Before you can wallow more in your choice to keep things from him, he calls you into his office and you haven’t even gotten any work done yet, you only sat down 5 minutes ago.

What could he possibly want so early on?

“Yes, Mr Barber?” you ask flirtatiously, making him glare up at you before gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. Which you do.

“So today i’m gonna need you to file this paper work into the data base for me” he starts, lifting up a pile taller than the length of your forearm and now you’re annoyed for real this time. He knows full well that you’re still finishing off the stack from Friday and yet here he is presenting more work for you to do “get it done by the end of the day” he finishes, flashing you another stone cold glare as he looks back down at the paper on his desk, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence for a second longer.

Until you speak up “Andy, you know i’m still finishing off Frid....”

“That’s Mr Barber to you and you can leave now” his rude and snappy interruption makes you scoff as you shake your head at the tone in his voice, he’s not in any mood today to help you out or make exceptions. So you do as you’re told, hauling the heavy pile into your arms and lugging it back to your desk outside. Once it’s on your desk, you walk back to shut his door before he asks, making sure to slam it harder than needed to make it known that you’re angry with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice or care though.

Now to get started on all of this work that’ll probably mean you staying later tonight, just brilliant. Guess your second date with Ashley will have to be rescheduled.

------------------------

You finish off half of the pile by the time it gets to 1:30pm and you’re due a lunch break round about now so seeing as though Andy hasn’t left his office all day, you decide to pop out for some food with one of the other assistants, Stacey. Thank God you don’t have to face him since you have absolutely no clue what could have possibly rattled his cage this morning to make him snap at you like that. The two of you have always had this ongoing joke of you calling him Mr Barber and he usually allows you to call him by his first name until today when that alone was enough to anger him.

It’s obvious that you’ll have to put off telling him about your date until he’s in a better place to receive the news. You’re hoping that since he’s always been opposed to commitment that he’ll take it well but the halt in your fooling around might annoy him a little. It’s not your problem though, he always knew you were planning to eventually settle down.

Upon your return to your desk you find Andy sat in your chair, looking through your work “where the hell have you been?” he mutters as he avoids your eyes “you know what, don’t even bother making excuses, my office, NOW” you jump out of fear as he raises his voice slightly at you for the first time in the whole 2 years you’ve known him. Your anxious body shuffles into his office, scared of what’s about to happen.

“Was i not clear enough earlier Y/N? Hm? Because i specifically remember asking you to have this work done by the end of the day. You get off at half 4, it’s now half 2 and you’ve only done half. Do i pay you to galavant around town with Stacey or do i pay you to do your goddam job?”

In the 2 years that you’ve known Andy, he’s also never made you cry, yet here you are trying your absolute hardest not to let these tears fall in front of him.

“You pay me to do my job and i’ve tried my best to get it done. I-I’m sorry” you stand there awkwardly, picking at the torn skin around your fingernails as you stare hopelessly at your stilettos. “Well your best isn’t fucking good enough Y/N, try harder. You can stay here until all of the paperwork is done and that includes Friday’s load too now close the door on your way out”

Is he actually serious? He can’t be, surely. What is wrong with him?

“No” you stand tall, hands on your hips as you talk back and if he was angry before then now he’s livid with you “What do you mean no?” he questions, stepping towards you, hands in his pockets as he awaits your answer.

“I said, no. Just because you’re in a bad mood for whatever reason does NOT mean that you get to stand here and humiliate me. I said no and that’s final. I’ll do my best to get today’s work done before i leave but Friday’s work can wait and i don’t care what nasty comment you have in store to throw back at me”

His face screws up as he clenches his jaw again, you should feel really scared right about now, that comment might have just cost you this job but you don’t care. If that’s the case then you’ll walk out of here proud of yourself along with one less so called friend in your life.

“Bad mood? I’m furious and you don’t even know the half of it” he picks his phone up, tapping a couple times before handing it to you and walking back to his desk to sit down. You watch the clip in his camera roll, squinting as you try to make out the faces in it and then you realise that it’s you and Ashley. Fuck. He was there that night at your apartment, he was obviously coming to see you and you didn’t even know it. He must have seen you with another man and changed his mind. You feel awful as you look back at him, he just sighs once you place the phone onto his desk.

“Andy, i-i”

“Save it. If you wanted to cut our little deal off then you shoulda just said. I don’t appreciate being lied to Y/N and i don’t fancy talking about it with you for a minute longer so just do as your fucking told and get back to work”

All you can do is turn around and walk away since you’ve done enough damage already. But all you can think about is the look on his face after you watched the incriminating clip. He looked sad, broken even and it’s replaying in your brain over and over. Torturing you. 

This is why he’s been so nasty today, so demanding and harsh. He’s hurt that you lied to him, hurt that you were with someone else, even if it was just dinner. You still arranged a date with another man and went and what Andy has never wanted to admit before, not even to himself is that he really likes you. In fact no, he’s fallen madly in love with you. 

Every waking moment of his life is spent with you on his mind. You even corrupt his dream world too and it’s gotten out of control. Saturday he decided it was time to cut your little deal off and start over. He was going to do it right, confess his feelings, ask you on a date and then take you out and treat you like a princess.

Ever since he laid his blue eyes on you that first time when he was doing the presentation in your class at college, he liked you. You asked so many questions, engaged a lot in the debates and he knew then that you were going to play an important role in his life. And you have. You became close friends, going out regularly and doing things like bowling and eating dinner together more than a handful of times. He enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his but there was this unspoken rule that you had to remain just friends. He wasn’t ready for anything serious and you were still not over your ex.

But then when you walked through his office door on your first day dressed in that skirt, those heels and stockings and lets not forget about that blouse. He was trying his hardest not to drool. One things for sure though, he was painfully hard for you.

When he came to your apartment Saturday and saw you outside your door with some preppy douchebag who was around your age, he felt this lump in his throat form as his heart ached. Sure he expected you to get a man eventually after all you are 24 and he’s in his 30’s. But he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He also didn’t expect you to have such an effect on him the way you have but here he is, angry at you for moving on without telling him and angry that you aren’t his anymore. 

He feels bad for shouting at you today, for being so harsh with his words. He could see the tears pooling in your eyes right away but he was too pissed off to stop and now he’s almost certain that any friendship the two of you had is gone for good thanks to his vile actions.

Another 2 hours tick by and you’re still working at your pile, you’ve still got a lot left being that he’s included Friday’s in your load too. It’s going to be a long night so you pick your phone up and call Ashley.

“Ashley hey, it’s uh, it’s Y/N. Listen, i have to work late today so i won’t be able to make it” you announce and as he responds, Andy opens his door but you don’t notice.

“Rain check? Uh...” you trail off, trying your hardest to decide if you even want to see him again. It’s like you’re torn. On one hand you have Andy, your dream man. A man who knows your body like the back of his hands and a man who can more than likely take care of you if you just took a leap and told him about your feelings but then on the other hand you have Ashley. A guy who is your age and who makes you laugh a hell of a lot. Before you can even decide though, you hear a cough behind you. It’s Andy.

“Ashley can i call you back? It’s just now’s not really a good time, i have a lot of work to get done”

You hang up the phone as your eyes are locked onto Andy’s and the moment your phone is placed back onto your desk he wraps his large hand around your wrist, lifting you up off your chair and tugging you into his office. You watch as he locks the door behind him before going back to sitting behind his desk.

“You gonna see him again?” he asks, jaw clenched.

“I-I uh, i don’t know. I’m a little torn right now” your eyes settle on his plump pink lips, wanting nothing more than to bite down on his bottom one as you sink down onto his cock but you’re dirty thoughts come to a staggering halt as he speaks. “Torn with what? You like him right?” why is he asking you these things? Is he trying to torture himself with the details.

“Yes i mean no i mean I don’t know. I like him but i don’t think i can date him”

“How come?”

“Because i like someone else, in fact i love someone else”

Andy feels his heart sink further as more cracks appear threatening to shatter it completely. You love someone else and now he’s truly out of the game.

Rage works it’s way back into his body and he can’t help but take it out on you “did you sleep with him? Huh? Did the douche bag get to fuck that tight cunt of yours?”

At first you find him funny, laughing as you look around the room, anywhere but his eyes but then your own rage sets in.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, he didn’t. We had dinner and that’s it” you state, matter of factly as you place your hands back onto your hips..

“Bullshit”

“Is that what you really think of me Andy? You think i’d just give it up to any guy that even looked my way. Wow, i knew you were a lot of things but vicious was definitely not one of them and what’s that i smell? Is it jealousy? Surely not.” you tut, shaking your head “I don’t think i even know you at all by the looks of things if you thought lying to me was better than being honest and trust me, i’m not jealous in the slightest, in fact i pity you. It’s your sex life that will suffer” he doesn’t falter for even a second as he stares you down and just as he anticipated, you’re the first one to break, looking away from him. You can’t help the way your heart starts to race from all of the fury filling up your body. How dare he.

“I was only keeping it from you until i found the right time to tell you. And don’t you dare think for one second that just because we’ve slept together that you have any right to comment on my sex life. You made it perfectly clear that monogamy wasn’t your thing so don’t be mad when i finally want to move on from being someone’s fuck buddy” you spit, heat rising to your cheeks as you realise what you just said. Fuck.

“I’ll comment on whatever i fucking want to so quit the bitching and yeah, i don’t do commitment but i sure as hell wouldn’t be with you even if i did”

You don’t respond to him this time, there’s no quick comeback to fire his way, no insult that could mean you having the upper hand again. Nothing is left but shock and disappointment. He really said that, he really played on your biggest insecurity. He played on it and used it to his advantage, to get the upper hand and win the argument.

“What? Got nothing to say?” he snorts, smug grin on his face. Watch his smile disappear now...

“I love you, Andy” you finally get the words out and you feel as if you’re going to choke on them and die right here in his office. Cause of death, unrequited love.

“W-what?” he’s practically speechless, his words barely audible.

“I’m so madly in love with you and i have been for a while now. But i continued to shut my feelings out and reject other guys because i came to the realisation that having you in any way that i could would be enough for me even if it meant that i couldn’t have you in the way that i’ve always wanted. But none of this matters now, right? Because you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel and where you stand. You wouldn’t date me even you did date and that’s fine but at least now both our cards are on the table”

He looks up at you, using his index finger to force you to look back at him and when you do, he looks so deep into your eyes almost as if he’s attempting to see into your soul. Like he’s trying to search for any signs of dishonesty.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Instead of going out with other guys you shoulda told me and been honest about it?” is all he can say and that’s the last response you expected but what catches you off guard the most is how he said it, almost like he was hurt and relieved simultaneously.

“Andy, you’re my boss and you made it clear that you didn’t want a relationship” he has absolutely no right to lecture you about honesty when he’s spent the entire time he’s known you blabbering on about how the single life is better for him and how he’d hate to be tied down again. You roll your eyes as you move away from him when he attempts to move closer.

Silence falls upon the two of you and it seems never ending, leaving you no choice but to leave. The moment you turn around to walk away he’s on his feet too “where are you going?” the tone his voice makes it sound as though he’s pleading for you to stay without actually saying the words.

“I’m going back to my desk to do my fucking job, just like you told me to do earlier” you turn back around but just as you expected, he stops you “look. I’m sorry, okay. I was just mad that you”

“Mad about what? That i went out on a date? I’m a single woman Andy and despite our little deal, i don’t belong to you so you have no right to be mad at me for doing what any other single person does”

He bites down on his bottom lip as he runs his fingers through his perfectly styled locks, messing them up instantly “God, you’re so fucking infuriating”

“I’m infuriating? You really are clueless to your own behaviour aren’t you? I just told you that i love you and you still haven’t told me if you feel the same. So i think that says it all, don’t you?” you stop yourself before continuing your rant, trying your hardest to prevent something worse slipping out. Right now in your state, you’re bound to say things that you don’t mean and will later regret. “you know what, i think i’m gonna take the work load home and complete it there. I’ll see you tomorrow, if i still have a job that is” you raise your brows at him, praying he doesn’t fire you for your attitude alone. But to your surprise he doesn’t.

“You really think that low of me? That i’d ever fire you because of what’s going on between us outside of this office? Wow” he leans back on his desk and his shoulders drop as he slumps over, looking down at his large calloused hands.

“It’s what i assumed would happen. You’re really gonna pretend like you don’t want me gone after today?”

“I don’t, believe it or not. But i have no time to deal with this discussion any longer, i have to leave early today” he says as he goes back to sitting behind his desk again and turning his computer back on “i don’t expect you to stay any longer, you can take that work home and finish it after your date” he mutters the last few words, pulling a face as if they make him sick.

“Really? We’re back to that again. God i’ve had it with you” you spit, biting down on the inside of your cheek before strutting over to the door but his hand stops you before you even get yours on the lock.

“Let me go Andy. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone be stuck in a room with you” harsh, but in this moment it’s true. He’s done nothing but upset you all day long and even after your stupid decision to confess your love for him, he’s still doing it. You feel so defeated right now that you can’t take another second of his shit.

“Just one more thing and then you’re free to go and fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. How many guys have you been on dates with since we started hooking up?” the desperation is evident in his eyes as they pierce into yours, searching again but this time for the answers before you can even open your mouth to give them to him “one. It was only one date on Saturday night with Ashley” and that’s the truth. You would never repeatedly date behind his back, this was a one off. A one off you’re regretting more as the seconds tick by.

An awkward silence falls upon the two of you once more as he walks back over to his desk, pacing next to it and creating a draft. “Are you planning to see him again?” and he’s back with more questions. Why does he care so much?

He clearly doesn’t love you too otherwise he’d have said it once you confessed your feelings for him. Instead he left you looking like the biggest joke ever, the clown. And you feel so mortified for even believing he’d say it back.

Silly little Y/N, always catching feelings for men who don’t feel the same way back. You’re starting to feel as though you’ll never find someone.

But still his behaviour has you second guessing him. Maybe he does like you and that’s why he’s acting so hurt.

“Maybe i will, after all i am single. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it Andy?” you know full well that you’re pushing down hard on his buttons and you can see his cheeks turn red as his knuckles turn white from his tight grip on the side of the table.

“What you don’t like that? You don’t like the thought of me on top of Ashley, sinking down onto his cock as he touches my body and kis -”

Out of nowhere he interrupts you, slamming his fist down onto his desk “dammit, Y/N, what is it with you? Trying to make me jealous? Because i’ve had just about enough of you running your mouth” he pulls one of the chairs out, falling into it and spreading his legs “In fact. I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use? Huh? Maybe then you’ll shut up about that fucking douche bag” he is jealous, it’s so obvious to you now. He’s jealous of Ashley, jealous of the possibility of him spending time with you and he hates the thought of someone stealing you away from his tight grasp.

You can’t quite believe your ears or your eyes as he spreads his legs further, grazing his hand over the tent in his dress trousers and you can’t help the gulp that follows.

“Andy”

“Shhh, enough talking. I don’t have it in me anymore to argue with you, just come here” he insists but you stand your ground “no. i can’t keep going round and round in circles with you with absolutely no end in sight and with no hope for you to reciprocate how i feel. I’m sorry but i’m leaving”

Yet again, as expected, he clears his throat “fine. I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Like they always do around Andy, your legs turn to jelly and your eyes glaze over along with your better judgement being clouded by x rated thoughts of him railing you. The idea of him touching himself, working his hand expertly around his girthy cock causes arousal to flood your panties. How dare your body betray you like this. How dare your mind do the same. It’s not fair that every time you think you have the upper hand and the dominance, he comes along, snatching it away from you and proving you wrong.

You have absolutely no idea why you’re about to do what you’re about to do other than the fact that your body gravitates toward him like a magnet and it’s out of your control.

So without a second longer to fester or overthink, you spin around on your heels, charging towards him. Andy watches in awe as you drop to your knees and make quick work of his belt. Once you free his cock from the confines of his black Calvin Kleins and into your small hand you spot the droplets of precum oozing out of the slit on his red bulbous head. You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them as you give the tip a couple of kitten licks before spitting all over his shaft and pumping him agonisingly slow.

“Fuck” he groans, rolling his eyes back as he grips the arm rests on the chair when you take him into your mouth “attagirl, sucking daddy’s cock like a fucking pro” his hands grip your face as he continues to watch you go to work, making a mess of yourself as you gag around him,

You don’t bother to issue a warning before taking all of him in your mouth, all the way down to his balls over and over. Making sure to hollow out your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, your tongue licking the underside of him as your hands grasp his balls. He starts bucking his hips up, attempting to fuck your mouth but you push him back down as a whole batch of unholy sounds that only you can elicit from him fall from his perfect lips, the sounds that are so loud and downright filthy that he has no option but to cover his mouth with his hand, biting down one of his thick digits to keep from exposing himself to his unsuspecting colleagues outside.

He soon pulls you off and you do so with a pop. He forces you to look up at him, his hand grabbing your cheeks and squeezing aggressively “no matter what undeserving boys you go out on a date with, no matter who flirts with you. You’re mine, always have been and always will be” he moves you to straddle his lap before he stands up to move the two of you to the couch.

“So no more dates princess, no more other guys. Because i’m the only one who gets to have you. Is that clear?” he cocks his brow up at you and you nod in response before mumbling a quick “yes” to satisfy his need for confirmation and assurance.

He lifts your knee length dress up to your stomach before he gets to touching you, squeezing at your ass cheeks a little too hard for your liking but you secretly love the way he gets so rough with your body, the way he smacks both ass cheeks repeatedly until you wince from how sore he’s made you.

“God, these clothes drive me crazy. Ever since that first day i met you, i’ve wanted you and when you started working here, i was so desperate to fuck you as you wore these stockings and these heels. You’re so fucking hot, princess and you have no idea how crazy you drive me when you bend over, shoving this ass in my face”

He starts to kiss your neck, sloppy open mouthed kisses on the spot that has your back arching as you grip onto the back of his neck to steady yourself. He’s working you up all the more, turning the pool in your panties into a river. You’re dripping wet for him, desperate for him to just fuck your greedy pussy, desperate to clench down around his cock as he pounds into you.

“You’ve done it before Andy. Many times in fact”

His kisses halt as he smirks at you, that devilish look in his eyes. It always drives you wild “do it again, please, i need it” you beg pathetically and much to your surprise, he does exactly that. He takes your panties, tugging them to the side and playing with your soaked core a little as well as touching your bundle of nerves. You whine into the crook of his neck as you urge him to hurry before he eventually pulls his pants further down his legs to position himself at your entrance better. You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks himself to the hilt inside of you.

The way his pace continues to pick up until it’s rendering on animalistic is causing you to let out the loudest and sexiest sounds, it’s like music to his ears but he can’t have anyone hearing this. He flips the two of you over so that you’re below him, your legs pushed back to your head and you hold them in place. His hand covers your mouth as he slides himself back in, not making any effort to start slow “you’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are” he continues with rough snaps of his hips as he fucks into you with reckless abandon and causing the sweet music you make to vibrate onto his hand.

“Yeah, like this? Like the way i fuck this pretty little cunt?”

Thrust

“Bet his cock couldn’t even touch what mine does to you, the way you cry out for more and scream my name every time. The way i can make you cum with just my words and my fingers. God, such a dirty little girl for me, ain’t that right, princess?”

Satisfied hums follow his questions along with a frantic nod as you feel the coil tightening in your stomach, like a knot twisting and pulling, you’re so unbelievably close that you can almost taste the impending orgasm. “Don’t make a fucking sound when i move my hand, okay?” again you nod in response and he moves his hand, smiling down at you with adoration in his eyes before moving his hand to your aching sex. His fingers pressing down onto your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles on it and as soon as your walls flutter around him, he knows your close.

“Gonna cum, huh? Gonna make a mess all over my cock? My filthy girl, go on baby, cream all over me”

Just like that, along with his permission you let everything go, allowing yourself to really feel the pleasure. Your walls flutter around him again and again and each time he pulls out of you he spots your juices as they cover his cock beautifully. The sight alone has his hips snapping harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours bounces off of the walls in his office and you accidentally let out a lewd moan that he swallows with his kiss as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer “cum for me daddy” your encouragement sends his entire world spinning as his thrusts stagger. 

His cock jolts inside of you, twitching like crazy before his cream fills you up deliciously, painting your walls in thick ropes. You arch your back as your arms wrap around his neck. You need to feel his lips on yours.

He kisses you so hard that your teeth clash, making the two of you chuckle into each others mouths before attempting again. This time his tongue forces it’s way past your lips, battling with yours as he rides the two of you through your dramatic and intense highs.

Once his hips still and he pulls out, he flops down next to you. The two of you are nothing but a panting mess. Chests rising and falling along with your erratic heart beats.

“I love you too” he confesses, making you gasp as you turn your head to look at his spent body, the way his eyes meet yours and tears pool in them has your eyes doing the same.

“Andy”

“I’m not finished. I’ve felt this connection with you since the day i first met you, it caught me completely off guard. When we made the deal for it to be just friends, i was upset. I wanted a lot more but i know i wasn’t ready just yet. But the way you’d draw out laughter from me that no one else has ever been able to and the way you’d boss me around only made my feelings grow. Then we fucked and it was like confirmation to me that i was well and truly screwed. But i kept coming back for more because it was like an addiction, i had to have you in any way that was possible and if sex was the only way then i’d have stayed single forever just to keep you close. I’d have done anything to be able to hold your body and kiss your neck and make you feel good. If doing that as just your fuck buddy was the only way then so be it. But i got to a point where just fucking you wasn’t enough. I wanted something real with you. So on Saturday-” before he can even finish you sigh, sitting up.

“You came to tell me how you felt? Andy, why didn’t you just say that earlier?” you don’t know how to feel right now. You’re so consumed by emotions that your head is spinning. One one hand you’re angry, annoyed and upset that he kept this from you and didn’t just tell you he felt the same when you confessed how you felt. But then on the other hand you’re relieved and happy that he does feel the same. This was never some unrequited love, it’s always been reciprocated and real. 

All the lingering stares you’d catch, all of the compliments thrown your way and the insults hurled at random guys who’d ogle you whenever you were out in public with him or whenever another guy at work would take an interest.

“I saw you with that guy Y/N and i broke down. Then today, i expected you to come in and talk to me about it but instead you sat down at your desk, acted normal and didn’t say a word. I was hurt that you’d keep this from me. I know we both felt these things and i know both of us were unaware of the feelings being reciprocated but you still didn’t tell me you’d even thought about seeing other people and i guess i just expected more from you, more honesty”

He’s right. You don’t have it in you to argue because he’s right. He might have had his reasons for hiding his true feelings but you hid your date from him and that’s a lot worse. How was he supposed to just come out with it when all he could think of was you with Ashley.

“You’re right. I was wrong, i didn’t even think about the effect it would have and i was selfish. To tell you the truth i only went out with that guy because i was trying to move on from you, i didn’t want to keep feeling this strongly with no possibility of you feeling the same so i did the first thing i knew to do, date some other guy”

Andy can’t say he isn’t relieved to hear you admit that preppy college boy means nothing to you but it’s bitter sweet, you saying that you thought your feelings were one sided so you wanted to move on to avoid getting hurt further makes him hurt too. You’ve always meant more to him than just some friendship or some steamy sex. You’re the first woman he’s even looked twice at since Laurie and that means a whole lot more than you’ll ever know or understand.

“So what now?” you ask, puppy dog eyes showing as you await his response.

“I know it’s a bit backwards but how about a date tomorrow?”

God, he really is so handsome, so sweet. His deep and raspy chuckles make you giggle along with him as you straddle him once again, crashing your lips to his, his beard scratching at your face just the way you like.

He pulls away for a second “is that a yes?” once more you shake your head, tutting at him “a thousand times yes, Mr Barber. Yes i’ll go out with you” he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you flush against his suit clad torso, kissing you eagerly and smiling into it. He finally got the girl.

---------------------------------

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[wearenot7withu]

Random things with boyfriend koo v.

summary: One morning when you're daydreaming you slip up in front of your boyfriend. The little slip up ends up with you facing your biggest fear with your boyfriend behind you - literally.

pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

word count: 900

genre: fluff

rating: G

warnings: mention of thalassophobia (fear of sea/ocean) and acrophobia (fear of heights)

This drabble was written for BTSGoldNet’s End Of Summer Escapade Event with the following prompt “It’s only six in the morning, and I haven’t had any coffee yet. Anything that I say or do cannot be held against me until I am caffeinated.”

a/n: So... I have been absent I know. Life came in the way. The dad!jk au comes in September, I promise. I don't really have time right now, kind of in the middle of a light writers' block buuuut yeah. I might post one RTWBK part before the big story. Your feedbacks are appreciated. Reblog, reply, like. Even if you criticize you can do it nicely and kindly, building feedbacks are always a good thing.

series masterlist | masterlist

Your boyfriend, Jungkook and you made a budget and went on five days four nights long vacation in Italy. It was the middle of summer, when the days are unbearably hot, the wind if there’s any super warm and the sun’s always out shining down from the sky.

Your first days were spent on the beach, and during the nights you went for a little sightseeing. Every day there was a new building, a place to see. And of course let’s not forget those cosy, little Italian restaurants either.

Today – or rather tonight – cruise shipping was on the agenda. The small ship left the dock just before sunset. There were jacuzzies, candlelit dinners and the music was provided by a classical band. This all happened while the sun was setting in the background and the stars slowly came out.

The sunset cruise was your boyfriend’s idea. In the morning when he went to the restroom while having breakfast he saw a billboard that was advertising this activity. “Babe, we have to go. It’d be so romantic” Said your boyfriend with a smile on his face.

That’s how you found yourself on a ship. You were slightly terrified. It’s not that you didn’t know how to swim, because you did… but the depths of seas scare you.

But oh well, if only you knew what’s next to come. “Look there” Jungkook’s voice pulled you back from your daydreaming. The sea, the waves were so mesmerizing, you could watch them all day every day. “Parasailing”

You scoffed and let out a low laugh “Yeah, no”

“C’mon, will you let me go alone?” He asked, making his lips into a pout.

“Sure I will”

Surely the night went on great. Just like Jungkook said, it was indeed romantic. When you returned to the hotel you two were so tired, the moment you laid on the bed you fell asleep.

In the morning rays of sunshine woke you up. Last night you forget to close the curtains, which lead the morning sun into the room. You started the coffee maker and stepped outside to the little balcony. You watched the sea, the unknown open and the people who were already parasailing over the water.

“Good morning” Arms caged you and a raspy morning voice greeted you. You were too deep thinking about how beautiful the view was for the parasailers. Therefore the first thing that came out of your mouth wasn’t a greeting, but a

“I want to try parasailing” The moment the sentence left your mouth you tensed. Jungkook was shocked too. You’re scared of heights and he knows that, but he won’t pass up on this opportunity. If even by accident but you let that thought slip, you probably want to try it somewhere deep down.

“Good thing I wrote us up yesterday.” You looked at him over your shoulder with an alarming look in your eyes “We’re on at 10 babies” A firm no left your lips “You just said you want to try”

You peeled his arms off of you and made your way towards the coffee maker. “It’s only six in the morning, and I haven’t had any coffee yet. Anything that I say or do cannot be held against me until I am caffeinated.”

„Yeah, no. That’s not how we’re playing babe. We are going, it will be fun” He said excitedly.

It will be fun, he said. Well, you’re not having fun. Currently, you’re on the back of a little boat, with ropes around you and a parachute behind you. Of course, your boyfriend was with you, you were sitting in front of him. Ever since you stepped onto the boat he’d been drawing little circles on the back of your hand, trying to soothe your nerves this way.

You thought your fear was under control, but when you started to move away from the boat and towards the sky, a scream left your lips. You were grasping Jungkook’s hand with one hand and the other was holding onto the ropes with dear life. Tears were forming in your eyes, which were shut closed. No matter how curious you were, you won’t open your eyes.

Jungkook felt your distress, he saw and felt you shaking in front of him. „Shhh, open your eyes baby” You shook your head. „It’s beautiful, don’t you wanna see it?” You shook your head again. „When have I ever done something which could be counted as harmful for you?”

You answered with a shaky never. „Then open your eyes baby. You don’t have to look down, just look straight ahead. I’m here, you won’t get hurt.”

Jungkook repeated the word I’m here until you took a deep breath and opened your eyes. The view was much more beautiful than you imagined. Although you were still scared, you took Jungkook’s advice and only looked in front of you.

After fifteen minutes, your session ended. The moment your feet touched solid ground, you threw yourself into Jungkook’s arms. Your action took him by surprise. „Woah, what’s going on?” He asked curiously.

„Thank you for you know… Always making me crawl out of my shell” Jungkook kissed your forehead and left his lips pressed there „You’re welcome”

While your boyfriend adrenaline-seeking trait can drive you up on the wall, you have to say the truth… Sometimes it’s the same thing which gives you unforgettable memories.

[herstarburststories]

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face. 

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert. 

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point? 

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day. 

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years? 

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be. 

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that. 

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back. 

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson. 

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons. 

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light. 

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache. 

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

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[meat--grindr]

I can request a story of Yandere Brahms with his reader, where Brahms kidnaps the reader by taking her inside the walls of the Mansion to be loved and protected. How did you come to this situation, maybe you can have a little NFSW?

Ahh, Brahms. How I love him so. I just wanted to let you know before we get into anything too serious, that this might be a little different than you were expecting, and for that I’m going to apologize right off the bat. I’ll admit I’m a massive weeb, but I never really saw the appeal of yanderes. Cringe, I know. So, I’m going to do my best here and take yandere more as ‘possessive’ if that’s alright? Also, I took some liberties with ‘kidnapping’ as you’ll see, just because I don’t want to walk too far into non-consensual territory when there’s NSFW involved. I don’t want to write anything explicitly non-consensual here, so it was a fine line to walk, but I think I found an okay solution. If this isn’t at all what you’re looking for, maybe drop me a PM and we can try to work something out? Anyway have like 5000-ish words of Brahms smut :)

Possessive (Yandere [?] Brahms (Female Reader) – NSFW

·       Standing at the foot of the stairs, you are struck, though certainly not for the first time, by the beauty of the house in which you find yourself. The golden hue of the wood which panels the walls reflect and amplify the soft glow emanating from beneath frosted glass lampshades. The diffused amber glow is cast about the room, throwing elongated shadows against the walls and into the far corners. From your place at the very bottom of the stairwell, the ceiling, now several floors above you, is lost to the early darkness of a winter evening.

·       Through the window, you can see the first soft flakes of snow drifting through the air. But here, inside, with your back braced against the newel post, you are warm. Tipping your head back, you gaze up into the yawning void above and cast your mind into it, losing yourself in daydreams of the beautiful rooms it conceals; your bedroom with its fourposter bed, all draped in velvet and silk—the dark, lacquered wood of the study, which still smells of cigar smoke, though as far as you can tell one hasn’t been lit in there for years—and, of course, the library.

·       Dark shelves line the walls, so tall they stretch from the wooden floor to the moulded ceiling. They stand, filled nearly past capacity with volumes of every shape and size, from encyclopedias so large you can lift only one at a time, to pocket novellas no bigger than your palm. Pages and spines alike, embossed with gold and silver shimmer from both the shelves and the tables set beside each of the overstuffed armchairs. The plush rug which lies beneath those tables and chairs makes even the floor a comfortable place to stretch out and lose oneself in a book. And the smell. Old leather and paper, printing ink and glue, dust and the very passage of time itself. It’s like every crooked old bookstore you’ve ever entered tucked away in a cozy corner of your own home. Whether or not you remember having dreamt of owning a private library, you were quite sure you could never go back to life without one and find yourself contented.

·       Even now, you long to curl up in one of those plush chairs and sink into another world until bedtime. You knew a soft blanket and a half-finished novel waited for you there, begging you to come back and see to them. And why shouldn’t you? What else was there to do on a chilly night such as this? The day’s chores were completed—the rat traps were checked (empty as always), the laundry was done, wood for the fire was stacked in the shed, and the supper dishes had been washed and put away. There is very little else that requires your attention. So why not?

·       Your socked feet sink into the plush, green carpeting as you mount the stairs. The banister is pleasantly cool and smooth beneath your fingertips. As you ascend, the light from below begins to dim, unable to reach any further into the darkness above. The difference made by the two flights of stairs between the lighted foyer and the dark second floor leaves you light-blinded and blinking in the shadows.

·       When again you regain your sight enough to behold it, even in partial darkness, the hallway that stretches before you is beautiful—the wooden paneling on the lower half of the walls takes on a sleek shine, while the deep green wallpaper above it fades into a stately and sober black. The paintings and portraits that line the walls are somber; muted without the proper lighting to show their colours, but they are no less impressive or imposing. A ship, barely visible, save for the canvas sails, is tossed on a rapidly darkening sea, lighting flashing far in the distance—a bright brushstroke of pure white, clear even in deep shadow. An old woman, her name rendered illegible in the gloom, stares down her nose at you in deep disapproval. Her eyes, like the rest of her, are severe and grey, and they seem, through either a trick of the light or the mastery of the painter, to follow you down the hall.

·       It is very dark. A thin, watery light filters through a small window at the end of the hall, but it does little to help guide you. You suppose you could turn on one of the many lamps that line the long and ponderous hall, but you know you can find your way just find without one. You’d spent several adventurous afternoons and many restless nights exploring the house and grounds. Though in the beginning you could barely follow the straight hall from the front door to the kitchen without getting lost, these days, you rarely, if ever, found yourself wandering the halls with no idea where you were.

·       You reach out, brushing the wallpaper with the tips of your fingers as you walk, grounding yourself in the darkness. It’s almost rough to the touch, stiff with age, though it’s clearly been well taken care of. In the daylight, there is little sign of aging at all - no scuffs or faded sections. You knew the house itself was well over a hundred years old, but it showed its age in astonishingly few places. Sure, the phones were ancient and the lack of wi-fi was irritating but—

·       Thump.

·       You freeze in place. You’re sure the sound had come from within the wall, just to the left of where you stood. There is something in there. The blood roars in your ear as you press it up against the wallpaper, straining to hear even a hint of movement, be it the shifting of the wood as the house settles, or the pitter-patter of something living. The seconds stretch on into minutes, but no further sounds come. You scrunch up your nose, feeling rather silly. It’s probably just a mouse…or maybe a rat. It sounded big. Perhaps those traps were good for something after all.

·       Your gaze lingers on the spot for a moment longer, but still, there is nothing but silence. Maybe it had been the house creaking in the wind. Old houses were prone to groaning after all. Either way, it couldn’t hurt to move some of the traps further up into the house for a little bit, just to be on the safe side.

·       You turn and continue down the hall, mind once again turning to the blanket, the book, and the comfy glow of the library. You press your palm flat against the wall as you walk, the whisper of your skin sliding over the wallpaper barely audible, even in the quiet that envelops the house at night.

·       Then your fingers catch against something—an indentation in the wallpaper. It’s subtle, but definitely there. You stop to inspect it closer, worried that perhaps your assessment about the house not showing its age may have come a little hastily. Your fingers explore the seam with care, and you decide it’s not a crack—it’s too regular, too straight. It feels intentional in its design. And it’s practically invisible in the darkness—likely just as difficult to spot in daylight considering how frequently you find yourself in this hall and your failure to take notice of it before now.

·       You crouch down, following the seam with your fingers. It stretches all the way down to the floor. Why…it’s almost like…a little door…

·       Almost at the same moment this thought trickles into your mind, the little section of wall gives way beneath your touch, swinging inward on silent hinges.

·       From within the inky darkness beyond, a pair of long, thin arms surge forth, snaking around your waist. The grip in which they envelop you is bruising as you are pulled back into the darkness beyond the secret door.

·       It slams behind you hard enough to rattle the picture frames in the hall. You scream, long and hard, struggling against the arms that cage you. You flail your limbs, lashing out blindly with fists and feet and nails, hoping desperately to strike your attacker, or at least wriggle enough to squirm from their crushing grasp. But the grip around your midsection only tightens, squeezing the very air from your lungs.

·       You lurch into motion, the figure in the darkness half-carrying, half-dragging you along a narrow passageway. You try to scream again but find you can’t get enough air to do so. Instead, you lash out, legs kicking against the walls, knees and shins colliding painfully with rough, wooden support beams and sharp corners.

·       While rounding a particularly tight corner, you manage to kick the opposite wall hard enough to throw your attacker off balance. A hissing shower of dust and plaster rains down on the pair of you. The figure stumbles, grip relaxing for only a moment, but it’s enough. You wriggle from their crushing grasp and dart back the way you came.

·       The figure recovers quickly, and you can hear them bolting after you in the darkness. It doesn’t take long before they’re on you again, one large hand fisted deep in your hair, wrenching your head back. You cry out in pain, stumbling back against the intruder. The hand in your hair doesn’t relinquish it’s hold as their other arm wraps around your chest, locking in place like an iron bar. You struggle uselessly, hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you’re dragged back the way you’d come, seemingly with even less regard for your physical well-being.

·       Not far beyond the corner where you’d made your escape, you’re shoved to the ground unceremoniously. As you make to crawl away, the figure circles around you, blocking your path of escape. Even as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can’t see much more than an outline. Even so, you can tell they’re much bigger than you. You feel a large hand sliding beneath your knees, and another on the small of your back and suddenly, the floor beneath you drops away. Instinctively, your arms shoot out, fumbling in the darkness for something solid to grab hold of. Your grasping hands find a fist-full of the intruder’s shirt. It’s soft and well-worn in your hands, and you clutch so tightly to it that you can feel your fingers beginning to cramp almost immediately. A soft rumble rolls through the figure, and after a moment, you realize they’re laughing at you. You want to let go, but the fear of tumbling backward into the darkness stills your hands.

·       With the way you’re being jostled about, you get the distinct impression that you’re ascending a flight of stairs. Secret tunnels and staircases in the walls? Under any other circumstance, you would be ecstatic, ready to drop everything and explore them. But caught as you were, in the arms of a stranger, there is nothing but panic within you. Taking advantage of your new position, you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the intention to scream, though you’re sure there’s no one around to hear you.

·       “Don’t.” So, it’s a man? His voice is soft, a half-whisper that thrums through your body where it’s pressed up against his chest. There is a distinctly British tilt to his voice, and it’s oddly muffled, as though something was covering his mouth. You’re reminded of those old cartoon bandits who wore bandanas across their mouths. He doesn’t want to be identified. The though sends a cold chill through you. This isn’t good. “Scream and I’ll drop you.”

·       The scream dies in your throat. While you certainly don’t like being caught in a strange man’s grip, the thought of lying broken at the bottom of a secret staircase no one else seems to know about hammers a worse kind of fear into your gut. You could die…or not and that might be the worse option: injured and completely at a stranger’s mercy. No. As it stands, if you follow his instructions, you remain unharmed, and the longer you remain unharmed, the better your chances of finding a way out.

·       At the top of the steps, you find yourself in front of a rough wooden door. Here he readjusts his grip on you, bracing your weight against his hips as he taps the door open with a gentle kick.

·       Suddenly, you’re bathed in a soft, golden light cast by the dozens of candles that lay scattered about the room. After so much time spent in the dark, the burst of light dazzles your eyes. In spite of your fear, you curl up against the strange man’s chest, turning away from the light that blinds and burns your eyes. It’s too much too soon.

·       The man laughs again, bouncing you gently in his arms, like one would a small child, “No hiding.”

·       His tone is light, but it is still a command. Sensing scant room for disobedience, you turn your face up towards his, cracking one eye open, then the other. You had been told not to, but in the flickering light, as you blink up at the face of your kidnapper, you can do nothing to stop the scream that builds in your throat.

·       His face is hidden, not behind a bandana, but a porcelain mask. The pale white surface is littered with a spider’s web of thin cracks and what looks to be dried blood. Your eyes sweep over the soft curve of the mouth, the delicate nose which turns up at the end, and the empty spaces behind which dark, human eyes burn into your own.

·       The moment the scream leaves you, ringing loud in the enclosed space, the man snarls, striding into the room with purpose. As he weaves through the maze of dusty old furniture, you beat your fists against his chest, squirming in his grip, trying with renewed desperation to escape his clutches. “Let me go! Let me go!!”

·       Ignoring your pleas, he stalks to the far corner of the room, where a low-slung cot waits, tucked close against a rough brick wall. He dumps you none too gently onto it, and you scrabble backward, knocking your head against the wall behind you. Your ears ring with the force of the blow, but your eyes remain trained on the masked man as he clambers onto the cot with you.

·       You jam yourself back into the corner, as far from the menacing figure as possible. He comes toward you slowly, laughing, as though this were all some silly game the pair of you were enjoying. You kick at him, and he swats your leg away, his shoulders shaking with laughter. His eyes, however, aren’t laughing. Where they peak out from beneath the mask, they blaze with only one thing: hunger.

·       You kick out at him again, catching him, this time, on the jaw, just beneath the edge of his mask. And just like that he’s not laughing anymore. He goes frighteningly still, and there’s a change in the air. You know he’s done playing.

·       He lunges for you, and you shriek, cowering back against the wall, the rough bricks digging into the flesh of your arms. His hands close around your ankles and he pulls you down toward him.

·       He slots himself between your legs, pinning your thighs down with boney knees. You squirm beneath him, but he’s too heavy for you to shake off. He looms above you in the candlelight, breathing hard, his eyes flashing behind the mask. With a jolt, you realize he’s going to hurt you. You’re so sure, you flinch, cringing away from him as much as is possible, bracing for the pain that’s sure to come.

·       But, when his knuckles brush against your cheek, it’s not in anger. It’s a gentle caress that jolts through you like an electric current. You turn to look at him, as he brushes the damp hair back from your forehead. He stares at you for a long moment, drinking in your shock, before leaning down to press cool porcelain lips against yours.

·       The kindness of his gestures surprises you almost more than any blow he could have delivered. When he promised to play rough, he usually meant it. With shaking hands, you reach up to touch his face. Your fingers slip beneath the mask, brushing the hair and skin beneath with feather-light touches. You want to see his face, want kisses from his real lips, want—

·       But the man’s fingers curl around your wrists, wrenching your hands from his face. “No.” There is force behind the word equal to the force with which he pins your wrists against the sheets, indenting the mattress beneath them. His voice, in that same soft whisper from before, rasps in your ear, “Not even when we’re playing, Love.”

·       You swallow hard, all the pretenses of your little experiment dropping away in an instant. You realize you came dangerously close to crossing a line. “Okay. Brahms. I-I’m sorry.”

·       You expect that he’ll want to stop now, and you wouldn’t blame him if he did, but he surprises you by nuzzling against your neck, “Not ‘Brahms.’”

·       So, he still wants to play. You smile up at him. “Oh, right! Sorry.”

·       He bends over your neck again, pressing porcelain kisses against your neck. You crane your head back, eager to make up for your misstep with the mask. There’s something about these kisses that makes your heart flutter—perhaps it’s simply the rush of a new sensation against sensitive flesh, or maybe it’s the knowledge that his real lips lay just beneath that hard surface, so close and yet completely out of reach.

·       When he lets go of your left wrist, you’re so caught up in these kisses, that you barely register it. That is until you feel the mask slide in an unnatural direction against your skin, and you feel Brahms’ real lips against your neck for the first time. Your whole body jerks forward, pressing against him with a soft sigh on your lips. His mouth is softer and warmer than you ever could have imagined. Even his beard feels good where it scratches against you.

·       His teeth scrape over your pulse, drawing another sound from you. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him down on top of you. His laugh rasps out against your throat, as he stamps warm kisses all across your collarbone.

·       You roll your hips against his and he groans, the sound rumbling deep within his chest. He surges upward fixing his teeth into the meat of your neck as he grinds down against you, letting you feel just how badly he wants you. His name slips between your teeth as a hiss and you feel him smile against your neck. His tongue flickers over the mark he’s left, though it’s more to lay further claim than to soothe the ache his teeth pushed into your flesh.

·       When he pulls back, he’s already pushing the mask back into place, though you catch a quick flash of the smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth.

·       He looks down at you, eyes sliding slow down your body, head cocked to the side like he’s thinking. He has that hungry look about him again and it lights a white-hot bolt of desire in your gut. You lift your hips, rolling them against his, relishing both the spark of pleasure that shoots through your stomach, and the shiver that rolls down his spine. A little whine escapes his lips, and you feel your heart leap. God, you’d do anything to hear that sound again. He meets the roll of your body with a stuttering jolt of his own.

·       You can’t help but beam up at him. “What are you thinking about Brah—Mister?”

·       He sighs deeply, running his hands down your chest, his fingers tracing along your ribs. “About all the things I could do to you…”

·       A breathless puff of laughter escapes you, “Oh, yeah?” You guide his hands down to your hips, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Like what?”

·       “Hm…let’s see. I could, hold you down,” His hands, still resting beneath yours tighten against your hips, pushing you down against the mattress. You try to buck up against him, but he holds you fast, “I don’t think so, Love.” He grips you hard, dipping his head to whisper into your ear, “I could just hold you here, and you’d have to take whatever I decide to give you.” His thumbs trace the seams of your hips. Even through your jeans it makes you shudder.

·       “Or, I could give you very little at all,” He lets go of your hips in favour of ghosting a hand down your thigh. His other hand presses gently against your zipper. His fingers trail down the seam, until you feel the pressure against your clit and jerk against his hand. He pulls away, “Just enough to keep you interested, but not enough to satisfy you.”

·       You whine, feeling a damp patch growing in your underwear. You know he’d get such a charge from dragging this out, teasing you until your arousal had soaked through the denim of your jeans. You could hear him now, ‘A few kisses and some dirty words…it’s that easy?' While you’d usually be willing to indulge him, you weren’t willing to give him that satisfaction today. He was already so uppity as it was. “Or you could just toss my legs over your shoulders and take what you want.” You toss an arm over your forehead in an attempt at playing toward his flair for the dramatic, “Look at me, baby. I’m defenseless.” You roll your hips against him again, nice and slow. You can tell by the hitch in his breathing that you’ve almost got him convinced. You can barely keep the smirk from your face as you arch your back, and whimper for him, “Please?”

·       That one word is all it takes to break him. In a flash he’s slipped out of his cardigan and tossed it off into the darkness of the attic. His suspenders follow suit with a metallic clinking. It isn’t until he’s unbuttoning his trousers that you realize you have mere seconds to undo your own before Brahms falls upon you and tears them off himself. You’ve lost more than one good pair of jeans this way and you don’t intend to lose another if you can help it.

·       Your shaking hands fumble with the button, managing to pop it only after a few tries. Taking them off from your position underneath Brahms is no small feat, especially considering his reluctance to move, now that his trousers rest about his knees and he’s rolling his hips against your still clothed thigh, his cock already leaking against the denim.

·       “Want you now.” His voice is rough, breaking in time with the thrusting of his hips.

·       “I know, baby. But you’ve gotta wait.”

·       Brahms huffs in irritation. ‘Wait’ is not a word he likes to hear at the best of times, let alone when his dick is this hard.

·       You tap his hip gently. “C’mon, up.”

·       He drops his head against your shoulder with a petulant whimper, his hips stuttering against your thigh.

·       “Brahms…” You sigh, half-frustrated, half-amused. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find it incredibly sexy when Brahms acted like a brat, but your pleasure was at stake here as well. “You can’t fuck me properly with my jeans on.”

·       His hips slow for a moment, and he whines again.

·       “C’mon, be a good boy for me.” You feel his cock pulse against your thigh, and he relents. He scoots back just enough for you to push your jeans and underwear down your thighs. Brahms takes care of the rest, tearing the offending fabric from your legs and tossing it from the bed to join his cardigan on the floor.

·       His hands are on your shoulders in an instant, shoving you back against the mattress, all patience spent. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and barely have a time to take a breath before he’s pushing inside with a single, smooth stroke.

·       “F-Fuuuck…”

·       “Yeah, that’s the idea, baby.” Your hands are fisted tightly in the sheets, your voice tight as your body grows accustomed to the stretch once again. You’ve taken Brahms with little preparation before. You know you can handle it, but somehow the girth of him almost always comes as a surprise.

·       To his credit, he does his best to keep still until you give him the ‘okay,’ though you can feel his hips shaking with the effort. He’s mouthy while he waits though, any trace of the gentleman within him his gone, replaced by a cursing, dirty-talking stranger, “Gonna pound you into this mattress, gonna fuck you like—fuck you’re so wet—like your my whore…mine, mine, ah fuck! Mine.”

·       You roll your hips, testing the water, and he bites back a string of curses. His hips stutter forward unbidden, and you moan low in your throat.

·       Behind the mask, you see his eyes roll back. He starts to beg then, changing his tune entirely, “Please, Love, let me fuck you, please, please, please. I promise I’ll be good. I will, just please!”

·       You reach up, carding your fingers through his hair, “Show me what a good boy you are, make us feel good, baby.”

·       Without missing a beat, Brahms’ hips take up a frantic rhythm, tearing a litany of pretty sounds from your throat. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair as he drops his head to press doll’s mouth kisses against your throat.

·       Your hand slips between your bodies, spreading your lips to circle your clit. You buck against him, gasping his name as the pleasure courses through you two-fold.

·       A strong hand grasps your wrist again pulling it away from your clit. “We mustn’t touch what isn’t ours.” You nearly whine in frustration, but your displeasure is quickly forgotten when you feel the soft pads of Brahms’ fingers against your sensitive flesh.

·       “You,” he groans in pleasure, angling his hips to push deeper inside of you, “You belong to me.” He punctuates the sentiment with a sharp snap of his hips. “That means I am the only one who can make you feel good.” He presses his fingers hard against your clit, and your thighs begin to shake. “Tell me who you belong to.”

·       It takes you a second to find your voice. “Y-You, Brahms.”

·       “Yesss,” the rhythm of his thrusts is beginning to fall by the wayside as his hips buck and stutter. “Say it again.” His fingers circle your clit faster, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm.

·       “Fuck, Brahms! I’m yours! A-All yours! You’re gonna make me cum.”

·       “Mine.” You feel the mask slide to the side again and his lips are on your neck. You feel his teeth graze the bite mark he’d left. His teeth are in your throat, his fingers on your clit, his cock in your cunt, and you’re cumming. His name tumbles from your lips, the only coherent thought in your mind.

·       He groans against your neck, trying to fuck you through it, but you’re too tight around him, forcing him into an agitated stillness. His fingers work your clit feverishly until you push his hand away, too oversensitive to stand another second of it.

·       You’re still almost painfully tight around him when the rhythmic pulsing of your own orgasm begins to push him over the edge. He thrusts into you once, twice, thrice more, before pulling out and shaking apart, his cum painting your thighs and stomach. He whimpers and trembles, fisting his cock through the aftershocks of his orgasm, desperate to chase every last ounce of pleasure.

·       Only when he’s well and truly spent, nearly sobbing from the agony of the overstimulation does he flop down on the cot beside you, panting heavily, cock still twitching against his thighs.

·       He kicks off his trousers, and curls up by your side, throwing an arm around you. For the longest time, the only sound in the room is that of your breathing slowing in tandem as you each come down from your high.

·       Brahms’ voice is small when he speaks up at last, “Did I do okay?”

·       You turn to face him, laying on your side. You reach out a hand and readjust his mask, before pressing a soft kiss against the delicate bow of his lips. “You were perfect. Thank you, Brahms.”

·       He nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. There’s tension in his shoulders, and he won’t look you in the eyes.

·       “What’s wrong, honey?”

·       He shakes his head, burrowing against your side. “Nothing…”

·       “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. It’s okay to talk to me about things like this, you know.”

·       He’s silent for a little while longer, and you wonder if he needs a little more prodding to use his words. But then, he speaks, “I wasn’t…too rough? In the passages?”

·       “No, baby. No. It was exactly like we talked about.”

·       “Okay.” There’s a little touch of a frown in his voice, like he’s trying to puzzle something through in his mind. “I didn’t expect you to fight me so hard. It felt…real.”

·       “I wanted to make it seem real. Did I upset you?”

·       There’s a long pause, but when he speaks, he sounds genuine. “I don’t think so. It was a little…thrilling.”

·       You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, “It was, wasn’t it? Where did you get an idea like that? Pretending to kidnap me and all that?”

·       He’s quiet for a moment, as he remembers a time not so long ago, when the idea was meant to be more reality than fantasy. He was supposed to have that girl. He should have done better, should have fought for her harder, should have killed her and buried her in the yard with the others. He should have done a lot of things. The scar on his stomach burns with the memory of all the things he should have done. But they don’t matter now. She doesn’t matter now. He has you.

·       He presses another kiss against your neck and lies, “Recreation of a scene from 'Jane Eyre.' You know how I adore that novel. And you being such a pretty lady, simply had to fill the role of the damsel in distress.”

·       “If you say so.” You snuggle closer against his chest. He really was a very strange man. A yawn blossoms in the base of your jaw, but you do your best to fight it off. You know you’ll be sore later, but for now you’re happy and sated and perfectly content to doze in the arms of the man you love.

·       Then a thought hits you, “Hold on, Jane Eyre doesn’t get kidnapped, Brahms.”

·       He chuckles softly against your shoulder, “So you have been reading my books after all.”

[httpbread]

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pairing: mikaela hyakuya x reader

words: 3921

i havent written anything coherent in. some time. also this wasn’t a request but mika is my all time favorite character. my HEART requested this.

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"Do you and (Y/n) have some weird staring contest that no one knows about except you?"

The question is so sudden, so out of the blue, that he looks away from the aforementioned soldier only to find himself squinting up.

His target takes a step to the side, blocking the sun from his view, but he still blinks a few times before he can clearly make out the boy.

"What on earth are you talking about?" despite no longer staring at the sun, this sight also makes his eyes narrow unhappily.

Much like the sun, Yuichiro smiles down at him brightly. Much more toothily. Though, thankfully, Yuu also didn’t make him burst into flames, which was also a plus in his book.

However, maybe not so much right now.

"You and (Y/n)," he says, his voice uncharacteristically low, further adding to Mikaela’s growing suspicion about this conversation, "What else?"

He says it so casually as if they were discussing no more than the weather. But Mikaela knew damned well this went deeper. A sense of deja vu padding in the from the corner of his mind.

So, albeit reluctantly, he leans over to the boy, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, his ruby gaze leaves Yuu to return home where they had been and often were.

Thankfully, they’re none the wiser about what’s happening, still sitting a couple of yards away from them, their hands animatedly gesturing before them like their life depended on it as they explained something to the Hiragi settled across from them.

He says, very quietly to Yuu, "Did Shinoa put you up to this?"

To which, Yuu responds, just as hushed, "If I say yes will you still tell me?"

He fights back against the small upwards tug of his lips at his friends’ reliable antics as he sits up straight again. Always so honest.

"Mika?" Yuu quickly worries, his voice growing a little higher in pitch as he begins to clumsily backtrack, "I meant- no. Shinoa didn’t say anything. It’s me. I’m asking. Why would Shinoa ask?"

"So, Shinoa did say something?" He muses, mostly just to mess with the ravenet.

As if to further stir the pot, the lavender haired leader’s eyes briefly flicker over to them, coming dangerously close to meeting his own gaze, before focusing back on the soldier before her.

(Y/n) doesn’t notice this occurrence either, now making an odd motion that made Mikaela’s brows draw. Their face is a little intense now as they try to clearly convey their point. One hand was splayed out flat and the other made a swirling motion above it. Mikaela briefly wonders what they were rambling about this time.

"Fine, fine," Yuu huffs, drawing his attention again but not enough to make him look away, only continuing to watch the pantomime of the (h/c) haired individual, "Shinoa maybe- uhm, sort of, shined a light on your problem."

At least, he continues watching her until those last words reach his ears, making Mikaela abruptly turn, "My problem?"

Yet, Yuu only grins at him, happy as ever, meeting Mikaela’s gaze with those big emerald puppy dog eyes without a care in the world, "Yup."

Mikaela only offers him a displeased look rather than an actual answer.

The only problem he had was that Shinoa was poking her nosy little nose where it didn’t belong, directly in Mikaela’s personal business.

(Y/n), on the other hand, was never a problem.

As long as they were smiling- and they often were- he was sure everything was right in the world. Over the months they had spent together, getting stuck in confined spaces, shoving back to back during combat, and even bickering with each other on the rare occasion, Mikaela could probably even write an entire guidebook on how to properly handle and care for the individual.

He was still considering the silly handbook idea when he found himself looking at a familiar shade of (e/c).

(Y/n) was looking at him, he realized, and judging by the teasing nudge Shinoa gave their shoulder this wasn’t something they had originally thought of.

Despite this, their strawberry lips curve upward at the corners to give him a toothy smile. Their (e/c) eyes twinkling as they hold his under the warm sun shining high above them.

They lift a smaller hand and wiggle it at him.

Mikaela does the same, subconsciously smiling back at them, but only a smidgen.

Mikaela had many problems, but not (Y/n) and that was certain.

However, an elbow suddenly burrowing between his ribs does add to this list of dilemmas, "Oooh! Did you see that? They’re looking at you!"

The sudden rise in Yuu’s voice makes him return the favor, except he’s significantly more gentle, "I would have never noticed."

Even though Mikaela is sure they couldn’t have heard his grumble, he watches the way their eyes light up, the hand they were waving at him with quickly darting up to muffle their laughter.

It makes his heart soften the same way it always did, ready to slip through the cracks of his rib cage like slow dripping honey.

However, Yuu nearly knocking his head into Mikaela’s forces him to divert his attention to the believed idiot next to him as he all but theatrically whispered to him- hand cupped around his mouth and everything- "Shinoa thinks they have a crush on you."

Well...

Mikaela sure hoped so.

He doesn’t cup his mouth like a dumbass, but whispers back, "Really? What makes her think that?"

This seems to stump Yuu, because he leans back, causing Mikaela to look over at him and watch as he scratches his head.

The ravenet quickly glances over at Shinoa, giving her a puzzled look.

Mikaela’s eyes draw to the lavender haired girl who catches Yuu’s gaze and makes a face back, her brows furrowing.

Then, he looks back at Yuu who shrugs at her in response.

Before then again at Shinoa who flashes him a scowl. He could practically hear her exact thoughts. Definitely something along the lines of ‘Do I really have to do everything myself?’.

Mikaela snorts quietly. She should’ve known and picked someone else to interrogate him. Almost anyone other than Yuu might have made her some inkling of progress.

"Okay, well, I don’t know about that," Yuu says, as if it weren’t obvious he had no idea what he was talking about, "But I know about you."

Mikaela raises a brow at this, "Me? What about me?"

Those ivy eyes find him, glinting with a sense of determination, "Do you like (Y/n)?"

Mikaela almost smiles.

"Of course," he responds dutifully, "They’re part of your squad. I have to."

A little bit of a white lie but it’s more than worth it to watch Yuichiro’s face twist in distaste, obviously expecting a different answer.

"No!" He huffs, lifting his arms with a flurry to cross them over his chest, "I mean- do you like like them?"

Mikaela tilts his head, looking at his age-old friend under his lashes with an all but teasing smirk, "You sound like some kind of schoolgirl, Yuu-chan."

This only serves to frustrate the boy more, "Mika."

"Yuu," he chirps back mockingly.

His eyes have drifted back to (Y/n) though, who is oddly looking at Shinoa with a disturbed expression, making Mikaela pause. That is- until Shinoa leans forward with a grin stretching across her delicate face from ear to ear. He can probably guess what’s happening there.

Mikaela decides he’s thankful Shinoa chose Yuichiro to interrogate him about this matter rather than taking a go at him herself.

He also takes a second to silently apologizes to (Y/n) who clearly does not have this luxury.

"You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, you know," the boy next to him declares uselessly, "I need answers, Mika."

Unfortunately for Yuu, Mikaela had watched him do a multitude of stupid things for many years now. He had even been dragged into most of these stupid acts as an accomplice and impulse control.

Meaning...

Mikaela could play dumb all day.

"Answers about what?"

-

(Y/n)’s eyes narrow.

They take a step to one side.

The mirror across from them does the same.

(Y/n) takes a step to the other side.

Again, the latter follows in suit, toe for toe.

(Y/n) takes a step back.

They take a step forward.

"Would you stop that?" They finally huff, squinting at their opponent unabashedly.

Shinoa was damn near shameless, asking without missing a beat, "Have you guys kissed yet?"

"No!" They squawk, still unused to her bold questions, despite having been her subordinate for at least a year now.

"Oh, oh! What about this?" Shinoa’s lips curl upward in such a grin that puts the Cheshire Cat to shame, "Has he... Y’know?"

She taps her neck with a delicate finger.

(Y/n) voiced her inquiry flatly, "Has he sucked my blood?"

Her coffee-colored eyes light up in response, so they quickly shoot this second wind down.

"No, of course not," they wave away the idea with their hand, "Do I look like a chew toy to you, Shinoa?"

(Y/n) suddenly wasn’t so sure they wanted to know what Shinoa thought they looked like, so they quickly turn on their heels, "Actually, never mind, don’t answer that."

"Oh come on! You’re telling me he hasn’t put the moves on you at all?!" She asked, as if it were an outrage, "Not even one singular move, (Y/n)?"

They don’t even warrant her with a response, continuing to walk along the cracked and battered street.

After a short meeting after breakfast this morning, they had come to the notion they should probably go scavenging in the nearby area for supplies. They would divide and conquer and be back at the rendezvous point in an hour.

Unfortunately for (Y/n), Shinoa had practically thrown her arms around them and strangled them as she declared them as their partner for the day.

Even more unfortunate, most of the area they had agreed to scavenge had turned out to be inaccessible due to debris and overgrowth, so only forty minutes later they found themselves at the place they agreed to meet at.

Alone.

With Shinoa.

This, of course, was after they thought they had escaped this morning’s weird Shinoa-involved-shenanigan.

Everything had been fine. They had just been talking about (favorite hobby) and (Y/n) had maybe gotten a little distracted explaining the details, when suddenly things took a turn for the worse.

Shinoa had nudged them and brought to their attention Mika was looking at them, and like an idiot, (Y/n) had turned to stupidly smile at him and wave.

...

Okay, so, (Y/n) didn’t regret greeting Mika but they definitely regretted the unprecedented consequences of that action.

Ever since then, Shinoa had been pestering them about some silly crush they had on the blond vampire. Asking them ridiculous questions and poking and prodding and doing the most to mess with them.

(Y/n) could only hope their apparent Prince Charming would swoop in and save them from the she-demon’s grilling.

"At least tell me you’ve held hands."

(Y/n) lifts both their hands to their face.

And buries a very quiet, very repressed yell into them.

Shinoa is, of course, unfazed by this and only giggles at their misery.

"You know... all this would go away if you just told me the truth~"

(Y/n) did know one thing- and that one thing was Shinoa. If hypothetically, they did slip up and say something, anything, they knew damned well that would only result in a million and one more questions.

If Shinoa got even so much as a centimeter on them, she would assuredly take a mile.

So, they find their composure and bluntly reply, "I already told you."

(Y/n) turns to face Shinoa, crossing their arms over their chest and flashing the girl a sour look, "There is nothing going on between me and Mika. I don’t know what else you want me to say."

Shinoa gazes back unwaveringly, holding their gaze like a lifeline, staring into the depths of their very soul as she tried to pick them apart like a broken clock.

(Y/n) is reminded to glance down at their watch. They note there is still a good ten minutes left until the rest of their team needed to be back.

But Shinoa’s sudden rise in voice makes them immediately look back up.

"Well, if it isn’t thing one and thing two," she cheerfully sneers at guests behind themself, making them glance over their shoulder curiously, mostly just relieved to have the girl’s attention off them for now.

They’re not surprised at all to find Yuichiro marching along, fists swinging at his sides with a bounce in his smiling step as he makes his way over.

Mikaela trails behind him, looking nowhere near as amused with the world, seeming a little more withdrawn into his white cloak than usual, like a little hermit crab.

The sight instantly makes their lips quirk upward.

"Took you guys long enough," they greet, more than happy to turn away from Shinoa and all her prying questions to see them, "Find anything good?"

Yuichiro nearly cuts them off before they’re finished asking, "I found a chocolate bar!"

It’s more than enough to make a big smile break out across their own lips, but it’s nothing compared to the proud way Yuu is beaming about his discovery.

"That’s... great... what about actual food? Clean water? Toilet paper?" Shinoa deadpans next to them as the two boys slow to a stop.

(Y/n) hums at this. She was only joking, but she did have a point. Maybe this area was too war-torn to effectively scavenge. It wasn’t like it was uncommon. Sometimes the only good thing to come from a place like this was a really good sneeze from all the dust or a cool looking rock.

But this idea is dispelled from their mind at a sudden rustle, before their eyes focus again on Mika who pushes a gloved hand past his cloak, revealing a plastic bag of what appeared to be some kind of supplies.

(Y/n) claps their hands together, smile returning to their features, "Oh! Nice job, Mika!"

Only for Shinoa to ‘accidentally’ shoulder check them as she reaches forward to take the bag, not so subtly mocking, "Yeah! Nice job, Mika."

However, before they can look away and rebuttal, Mikaela looks up at them, his brows knitting together and flashing them an odd look as if to ask them what the hell Shinoa was on about this time.

And just like that (Y/n)’s annoyances fizzle out instantly, a match dropped into a puddle, replaced by a laugh stirring from their chest as they muster a subtle shrug in response.

They swear for a split second they can see the corners of his lips tug upward before he forces them back down, shaking his head back at them.

Though he doesn’t say anything, they nod in agreement, silently sharing his exasperation.

"Hey, quick question-"

Their attention shifts from the blond vampire to find Yuu squinting at them, brows furrowed as he leans forward to peer at them.

It makes (Y/n)’s brows knit too, mirroring his expression but with worry instead of curiosity as they leaned back in response.

"Why are you covered in dirt?"

(Y/n) groans, quickly reaching up to shake their fingers through their usually silky locks, hoping to get most of the dust out.

Damned end of the world debris.

-

The next time Mikaela got to talk to (Y/n) was hours and hours later, much to his dismay.

It was nightfall now and the Shinoa squad had hauled up in a small easily defendable inn that Yoichi and Kimizuki had stumbled across during their own scavenging earlier in the day. The last few hours had been spent securing it as a temporary base of operations.

(Y/n) had volunteered for the first watch, but claimed the room at the end on the bottom floor.

Mikaela had decided on the room next to theirs and had waited there for an hour and a half until he was sure all the others were fast asleep in their beds. He was sure none of them were skipping out on this luxury, since they usually slept cramped up in the car or on the cracked and uneven concrete.

The wait was worth it because when he silently stepped out of his temporary room, he found the (h/c) haired individual standing outside like they had agreed, poking at a small fire they had started with a stick.

The firelight casts a golden crown on their silky (h/c) locks much like a halo and paints their familiar face an expensive flickering shade as they gaze down at the flame in boredom.

"Long day?" He speaks up, but that’s an overstatement. His voice is almost as quiet as the fire crackling and the distant chirping of crickets filling the warm summer night air around them.

Still, those (e/c) eyes flicker up and brighten instantly at the sight of him.

"You could say that," they respond evenly, a welcome hint of amusement tinging their softened voice as they all but throw their stick elsewhere, revealing to Mikaela their barrel withheld excitement. It warms his heart to know they’re so happy to see him, but he saves them the embarrassment of voicing it.

As Mikaela draws closer to them, the gravel crunches under his feet and also with their own movements when they take a seat next to the fire, quickly motioning for him to sit down too.

He does so, unbothered by the heat that greets him, but knowing their affinity for not freezing to death, being alive and all. Proof in the pudding, they were already shuffling closer to steal his warmth, wrapping their arms around their figure.

"I feel like I haven’t gotten to see you all day," they comment suddenly, making Mikaela look over at them with a slight alarm.

But he forces himself to relax when they nudge his shoulder with their own, listening to their gentle words, "Thanks for coming out."

Mikaela can’t help the small smile that finds him as he nudges them back ever so lightly, replying just as softly, "I wouldn’t miss you for the world."

"Oh, so you don’t miss me?" They snort, turning their face to look up at him blankly under their dark lashes, keeping their face carefully clear.

He scrunches his nose up at their silly antics, feeling the urge to shove them playfully but repressing it in fear of them actually moving away, "You know what I meant."

(Y/n)’s lips upturn with a small grin, "Maybe, maybe not..."

They lean closer daringly, nearly bumping noses with him as they tease, meeting his icy gaze with their (e/c) one, "Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it."

Mikaela indulges them, trying to convince himself that he could resist their charms if he really wanted to.

"I missed you too, (Y/n)," he breathes quietly into the air, lightly leaning forward to further decrease the space between them, resting his forehead lightly against theirs.

They gently push back against his head with their own, playful as ever, "I know."

"Do you?" He mocks, lashes sinking against his cheeks as he recalls, "Because I distinctly remember you telling Shinoa earlier that I meant nothing to you."

This time, they pull back a little to head butt him, adding a smidgen more force with faux annoyance, "That is not what I said and you know it."

"You told her I was gum on your shoe," he retorts, cracking his eyes open a smidgen to peer at them smugly, "You said you’d never seen me in your life."

"I did not, shut up," they whine, reaching a hand up in the minuscule space between them to rest his chin in the area between their pointed finger and thumb which came up to squish his cheeks.

It’s a funny feeling smiling as someone messes with your face.

"Besides, what was I supposed to tell her? The truth?" They utter, looking up at him under their lashes and arching a brow, "Because I’m sure she’d be over the moon if I waltzed in and woke her up right now to tell her that I like like you.”

Mikaela watches them steadily as their hand travels up his face to cup his cheek affectionately, "You like like me?”

(Y/n) smiles at him lazily and he admires the way the fire next to them flickers and reflects in the shine of their lively (e/c) eyes, “Shinoa’s words, not mine.”

He hums, eyes sinking closed again as he melts into their warm touch, “You know, she tried to rope Yuu into it too. Maybe she thought she could cover more ground that way or something."

The idea almost makes him snort, but he holds back, melting further into the quiet moment shared between them.

"Did you tell him?" They inquire, brushing their thumb lightly along his cheekbone. Mikaela didn’t need sleep but was certain if he ever did fall asleep again this would be how.

"Not yet," he mumbles, but saying it out loud lets a small prickle of guilt finds him, "I’d rather tell him when he wasn’t being peer pressured to ask me."

"It’s not like he’s going to notice by himself, Mika," (Y/n) retorts, but he can hear their lovely smile in the way their voice draws.

"I know," he responds lightly.

He turns his head in their hand and lovingly presses a kiss to the soft of their palm.

"Let’s not worry about them right now though. Tonight is ours."

Instead of swooning at his YA romance worthy one-liner, (Y/n) instead snorts, as if dumbfounded, "Wh- You cannot be jealous. They’re not even out here."

Mikaela’s eyes flutter open a crack only so he can flash them a sour look.

To which (Y/n) only pulls their hand away to fondly smile at him in response.

While he cherishes this look dearly, mentally taking a photograph of it to join the many others of their beautiful smile, he tells them point-blank, "Look, if you’re not going to cuddle, I’m going back to my room."

"See, that’s just cruel, you don’t even need sleep!" They argue, even as they wiggle closer to him, but they make sure to ‘accidentally’ nudge him a little roughly.

Mikaela hides his smile by resting his head on top of theirs as he welcomes them to his side wholeheartedly, lifting his arm and his cape before wrapping both snug around their figure and pulling them nearer, eliminating all space between them.

"But you do," he reminds them, patting their side fondly, "Now be quiet and close your eyes. I’ll keep watch instead."

"Quit being mean to me or I’ll go to my room," they mutter, and then add pointedly, maybe even a little quieter, "and I will sleep."

It’s not long before Mikaela realizes the reason why is because they were already halfway to snoozing, even as they mumbled that poor argument to him.

He can barely keep the smile off his lips long enough to press a feathery kiss to the top of their head.

"Goodnight, (Y/n)."